Hat Trics

With our kids grown and gone Sharon, my wife of over 20 years, and I had taken to trying to put some of the sexual zing of our early marriage back into our lives. One of our new games involved tying the other up and then doing whatever we felt like. Within the limits of not inflicting any injuries or significant pain, we could play out our fantasies on our helpless partner. This game had the attraction that the one who was tied up didn't have to approve of or actively participate in the other partner's plans; acquiescence was all that was required. The main point of being tied up, after all, was to be "helpless" at the hands of the other, and to be able to lie back and enjoy it even if "it" was something that we'd not normally be a part of. And for the dominant partner, the main point of having a "helpless victim" was to be able to act out in ways that went beyond the convention ally acceptable.

We weren't stupid about this. We had agreed that nobody would be left tied down out of earshot, or out of view for more than a minute or two. We had also agreed to be bound by the rule that whoever was tied down could always stop the action if things really did go beyond what he or she was willing to tolerate. We had our stop word, and after decades of living and loving together we both trusted the other to honor it if "The Word" was ever uttered. But we had also agreed not to use it casually, and so far neither of us ever had.

Further, even though our Southern Baptist ancestors would no doubt have seen us as perverts, additional protection lay in our view of ourselves as essentially moral people: not intentionally harmful; careful of others' rights; people who lived by our word.. For example, while Sharon has never used "The Word," there was one time when I had pulled myself back before pushing things to the point where she might have done so. After I had her naked and tied down, I told her that I'd arranged to have someone else come over and fuck her, because it had always been one of my fantasies to watch that. Sharon didn't say a word at that point, just clenched her jaws tight and started staring at the ceiling, appearing to me to be the verge of tears. In fact I hadn't arranged for anyone to come over that night; I'd just planned to go through the motions of "letting someone in" down stairs and talking to "him" in muffled voices as "we" came upstairs. But from the look on her face it was clear that, while Sharon was steeling herself not to stoop to the level of pleading or arguing or using The Word to stop me, she was already intensely unhappy, and that following through with this deception was going to make that even worse. So, as soon as I saw those tears starting to form I had to confess to her that I was just making it all up. I really would like to watch her in bed with another guy, but not if in her mind she was being raped. That fantasy would have to be on hold until she wanted to share it.

This new game had given me a chance to go down on Sharon, whose lack of fondness for being eaten out I'm trying to overcome, to fuck her in the ass (which, surprisingly, she likes much better than being eaten out, though not as much as getting laid in the old fashioned way) and to employ various toys, textures and temperatures on her body as much as I felt like.

In return, Sharon had treated me to some nice all-over body massages, the occasional spanking and lots and lots of top riding. And, just as I'd done for her, we'd had fun with butt plugs, vibrators and dildoes. Once she even fucked my ass with a strap-on, which I quite enjoyed. She particularly liked giving me hand- and blow-jobs to the point where I was just short of coming, then cooling me down until she was ready to tease me again to the point of almost blowing my load. After a half-dozen or so of these ups and downs, she would take me to an absolutely ball- and mind-blowing orgasm, after which she would lick up my cum and feed it to me with her tongue.

Tonight it was once again my time to be tied down and I was anxious to see what Sharon had come up with. As part of our usual routine she'd insisted that I take a dump (which didn't necessarily imply ass play; Sharon had learned not to tip her hand). Then we'd taken a shower together, and she'd been all over me with her hands in the slippery soapsuds, but not to the point where she got me off. Nor, as usual, would she let me give her a quick poke, as much as I begged for it. "No," she told me, "this is my night to tie you up, so you won't get any until I get you tied down, and only then if I feel like it. And besides, the soap on your dick burns my cunt when it gets inside." After the shower we dried each other off, then Sharon started pushing me through the bedroom until I toppled onto the bed.

First she bound my hands together and attached them to the center post of the headboard (an arrangement that we had found was much better for flipping someone over than a four-point spread eagle). Then she spread my legs and tied my feet to the posts at the foot of the bed. When that was done Sharon asked if everything was tight but comfortable. I gave a couple of tugs on each, trying to free my hands and feet, and everything stayed the way it was supposed to be: not tight enough to cut off blood flow, but not likely to come loose without a lot of work.

"Seems fine," I said."

"So, what's it to be tonight, blindfold or no blindfold?"

"Whatever you say. I'm not really making any decisions tonight, remember?"

"Right. In that case, raise your head," she said as she reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a sleep mask. She put this over my eyes and then for good measure, slipped a headband over it to snug it in place. "How's that?"

"Nice and comfy and I can't see a thing.,"

"Okay, then, I think we can get ready to start," Sharon said." Do you remember that time you said you had asked someone to come over and fuck me?"

"Sure, I remember it. You weren't very happy with the idea, and besides, I was just kidding."

"Yes, well I think you did the right thing. I wasn't ready for that then. But it gave me some ideas and I've thought about them a lot. So, tonight I'm going to have someone come over and fuck you."

"Why, I think I can handle that," I said with a leer. "When does she get here?"

"Oh," Sharon said, "whoever she is, she isn't coming tonight. But Bob should be here in about 10 minutes."

"Bob, as in a guy Bob"," I wasn't quite sure that I was hearing what I was hearing, even though it was pretty clear and simple.

"Very quick, as usual, big boy," Sharon said with a smirk in her voice, as she settled on the bed and started stroking my cock. "After our little discussion about your fantasies, I figured we might as well see whether you were really serious about them."

Sharon was talking about a discussion that we'd had a couple of months before, partly fueled by a little booze and the warm glow from a great time in bed. I'd asked her what her fantasies were and she, as usual, said that they were all being taken care of with what we had been doing (which was not exactly what I was looking for, but not the worst news a guy could get). When she asked me what mine were, I rolled out the old standard of wanting to see her being fucked by someone else, and that a full blown orgy with several couples would also be nice. Then, after thinking about it for a little while I also told her that I had often wondered what it would be like to suck off a guy, and to feel a real dick fucking my ass.

I'd had these two fantasies from time to time over the years, but the fact that I was brought up in a strict Army family had always kept me from acting on them. That was in a time and an Army well before "Don't ask; don't tell;" the Army of "Don't do it, period," in a society where closets were for staying in. And so, while I've felt intellectually for a long time that bisexuality was the normal state for humans (or at least for human males), my bi-curiosity was still in the curious stage, with little prospect that I'd ever move it beyond that.

What Sharon was telling me now, unless she was also bluffing as I had been when I started to play this scenario on her, was that I was literally in a position to let these fantasies become reality. If she wasn't shitting me, she was proposing to get past my hang up that had kept me from actually doing these things by having them done to me. All I would have to be is passive, not using "The Word" to bring things to a halt.

Part of me, the part that had been brought up in those military houses and went to schools for military kids until I was 18, sill lived inside my brain, and it was struggling with this idea. But the best it could do was struggle inside my big head with those other thoughts and desires expressed in my very honest, if somewhat alcohol greased, confession of my fantasies. Added to that struggle was what was happening with my little head as Sharon stroked me into a state of yearning hardness, plus the fact that I was in the game where anything short of injury was supposed to go. Under these circumstances, the reluctance caused by my early socialization didn't stand much of a chance.

"Looks like your little friend is fine with this idea," said Sharon, still stroking my now rampant prick.

"I guess I'd be silly to deny that. "Out of curiosity, though, what's in this for you?"

"Oh, I don't know for sure. Part of it is to make you happy, I think. After all, if you've been fantasizing about this for years, it's probably something you really want to have happen." She gave the head of my prick a little lick then said, "And besides, I might find it kind of sexy."

"Alright," I said, "I can go with that; and you're right about the idea being exciting. But just because I want it and you want it doesn't mean it's a good thing to do as opposed to an exciting fantasy. What do we know about this 'Bob' of yours, assuming he really exists? I'd really like to know that he's not an axe murderer, given I'm kind of tied up here. And it would be comforting to know that he doesn't have AIDS or the clap."

"Bob, he's real enough. Well hung enough too, though nothing that would make him a porn star. But he certainly knows how to use what he has, and he has lots of stamina, too."

"Right, I suppose this is all on his resume and testimonials from former lovers."

"Could be, but I haven't seen them. Actually, I just found it out the old fashioned way. You see, Bob and I have been fucking each other a couple of times a week for the last month."

This actually shut me up for a minute. Sharon and I had always had an open marriage, and we'd done a little swinging in our early years together. We'd been quite open with each other about this, telling each other about our affairs when we were playing solo rather than swinging as a couple. But after the kids were born Sharon had pulled out of that game, apparently forever. Or at least I'd thought so up to now.

Finally I said, "You know, for someone who hasn't been able to come up with any fantasies, you're suddenly coming up with a lot of them, if only by adoption. I wish I could see your face to get a better read on whether you're making this all up."

"Well, you can't, and in a couple of minutes you won't need to, because Bob is due any minute now."

"In that case, maybe you'd better reassure me real fast that I'm not going to get throttled or infected with something neither of us wants. Or, for that matter, that in the morning I won't be tied up here while you and Bob ride off into the sunrise laughing your heads off at what a fool you'd just left."

Whatever my voice and my words were conveying, Sharon didn't have to hear them to know that she had really riled up my insecurities, because while I was saying all this my prick had gone completely limp in her hand.

"Look David, all I have time for now is the Reader's Digest version," she said. "Bob is a trainer at the fitness center. He's 25. Yeah, don't say it, almost young enough to be my son. But he's also kind and gentle and considerate and he can fuck for a very long time and come back for more in about 15 minutes. He's also very clean and neat and his body is as important to him as ours are to us - probably more so given how much better care he takes of his. Because he's bi he tests himself every week for HIV and he gets a blood test every month for STDs. I've seen his lab reports for the last year and he's clean. He's very selective about who he screws, and he won't screw anyone without a condom until he's had at least a month's worth of their HIV tests and they've had a blood test. For the past month, I've been taking saliva samples from you while you were asleep, and from myself as well, and Bob has been testing them with his home HIV test kit. That blood draw I had last week that I told you was for my lipids test was for a STD screening. I passed, of course, and he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt based on that. He wouldn't be coming here tonight if we hadn't passed those tests. And," she said more passionately and a little breathlessly, "if you don't believe that I love you and you don't trust me to look out for our interests, you can just say The Word and I'll untie you and you can go fuck yourself rather than having your fantasies fulfilled."

At that point the doorbell rang and Sharon said, "Either that's Bob or the Watchtower people are working kind of late tonight. What'll it be David? This was your idea after all. I'm sorry about the 'you can go fuck yourself if you don't trust me' thing. I realize that this may be a bigger deal for you than either of us thought until we got to this point, and I don't want to put you under that kind of pressure. If you want to call this off, please go ahead. I know how I felt when I thought you were going to bring someone in here to fuck me whether I wanted it or not. I was really happy with you for not playing that out when you saw how I felt. I do love you, and I don't want you to feel that you have to do anything you don't want to do. So, it's your call, and I'm totally okay with whichever decision you make."

What could I say when she put it like that? The facts were that I did love her and I did trust her. Mother of our kids, friend and lover of my youth, nearly 10,000 nights sleeping side by side, my partner in most of the experiences of my life, my savior in some of them. And she was right: those were my fantasies that she had made her own here.

There's risk in everything. Sharon was more than bright enough to know that any change in our relationship was risky for her as well as for me. The introduction of any new lover into our equation might wreck what we had. We'd been willing, even anxious, to take such risks early in our marriage, when we had a lot less basis to trust each other to handle them well. Shit, if she was telling the truth, and by now I was 99.9% certain that she was, she'd returned herself to a level of sexual liberation that for years I'd been encouraging, even pressuring, her to return to. No matter that she said she was totally okay with me pulling out at this point. There was no way I could back away from her offer to fulfill my fantasies without risking harm to our relationship, maybe as much risk as was posed by bringing in this guy that she said she'd checked out so thoroughly. ("Man, I've got to hear more about that month of fucking Bob," I thought, "but not right now.") And besides, if this worked out, well, before the night was out I'd satisfy those long-suppressed urges to find out what it would be like to suck off a guy, and to feel a real dick fucking my ass.

"I guess you better go down there and hope it's Bob and not the Jehovah's Witnesses people," I said.

With that, Sharon gave me a big, deep kiss and got up off the bed. While she was gone I gave the ties that were holding me down a good workout. Just as I'd found the first time, they weren't going to come loose. I was, indeed, helpless as long as I didn't bring things to a total stop with The Word. Truth to tell, once I'd bought into it this idea excited me a lot, and I could feel myself growing hard, especially when I heard feet climbing the steps and the murmur of voices, one of which definitely sounded male, coming up the stairs.

The voices went silent until the footsteps entered the room and Sharon said "David, this is my friend Bob from the fitness center. Bob, I'd like you to meet David." A couple more footsteps and suddenly a hand, cool from the outside air, was gently shaking my cock and a pleasant baritone voice as saying "Pleased to meet you David." I was so surprised by this that the best I could manage was a weak "Hi," and a wave of one of my bound hands.

Sharon said, "Bob, I've told David a little bit about you and that you're here to help him fulfill his bisexual fantasies. Now, just so he'll know that we're all on the same page, I'm going to repeat the ground rules that we went over earlier this week. Basically, you can't hurt him beyond what might fall within the realm of light bondage. He likes a little spanking, but you can't do anything that leaves marks or injures him. And if he ever says the word "Hoover" you have to stop what you're doing immediately and the game is over. Are you okay with this?"

"Absolutely," said Bob. I wouldn't have it any other way. Out of curiosity, though, why 'Hoover'?"

Sharon explained, "Well, it's actually kind of personal. You see, once when we were in college we were at an anti-war meeting and we'd signed a petition agreeing never to work for the government or give any money to our university, which had a very aggressively pro-war administration at the time."

"Somehow," I interrupted, "that paper never made it to the back of the room, and we figured that some spy for the FBI had collected it. Even before that I'd never liked that little prick, J. Edgar Hoover. Since he's the last thing that I'd associate with sexual fun and games, I suggested that we use his name to call off any game that was about to get out of hand."

"And besides," Sharon finished, "it doesn't sound like anything else we might say in the heat of pain or passion, so there's not likely to be any confusion."

"Okay," said Bob. "A little weird, but I understand. Hoover is the sexual turn-off. I can handle that. Until I hear it though, we're going to party on, right David."

"I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't want to try this, as you can probably tell from what you have in your hand - and that feels very good, by the way," I heard myself saying. "So, give it your best shot, Bob, and I'll try to hold up my end." I have to confess that I go for the lowest form of humor when I'm uneasy. But however low it is, it's still humor, and Sharon and Bob were good enough to give little laughs.

Bob let go of my dick and I heard him taking off his clothes and shoes. Next I felt the edge of the bed tilt and then the weight evened out as he passed one knee over me and he was straddling my head in a 69 position. At the same time I could hear the chair from the vanity being moved over next to the other side of the bed and Sharon said, "David, this may be your fantasy, but I want you to know that this is probably one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

From farther down the bed Bob said, "Sharon says that this will be your first time giving head. She also said on our way upstairs that she'd told you that we'd been screwing each other for the past month. I probably don't have to tell you that she's an excellent cocksucker, since I'm pretty sure that she's given you a lot of head over the years. Just try to remember what you liked best when she was sucking you off and use that as your guide. And definitely remember to be careful with your teeth."

With that his knees moved a little more apart and I could feel the rubbery head of his cock brushing against my lips. My first reaction, I think more from surprise than anything else, was to turn my head aside. But then my own prick gave a jerk as I realized that I was excited rather than repulsed, and I turned my head back, opened my lips and took the head of his cock into my mouth. With just that little bit of contact Bob's dick started to lengthen and grow in my mouth. I quickly ran my tongue around its head and tickled the opening at its end, just as Sharon had done so many times for me. Almost immediately he became fully hard, and as he moved farther into my mouth whatever qualms had been left over from my Army childhood were swept aside by the thought that I was actually doing this, that I had brought him to this state, and that I could make him get there. I don't think I was rationalizing here. Yes, I was tied down and he wasn't. Bob was on top of me. To Sharon it might look like he was starting to fuck my mouth, that he was the doer and I was the one being done. All of this was true, too; after all, it was at the heart of the tie-down game. But in my mind at that time not only was I getting something that I had wanted for a long time, I was making his body react to me. I had made him get hard. I was going to make this guy come.