My buddy George and I Simon have this ritual where we hit up this bar once a week or so to throw back a few beers and catch up on life. After knocking back a couple, I brought up that I'd just ended things with this woman I'd been seeing. I shrugged it off saying she was pretty lame in bed, but hey, at least she was wet and warm.
He laughed, claiming he was lucky--his wife was like some kind of sex-crazed animal, always in the mood. He started spilling some pretty explicit details, then dropped this bomb on me: they'd never tried swinging or threesomes. I was floored, thought he was pulling my leg, so he kept going.
"What's so strange about it? It's becoming more and more common. A lot of guys secretly want to watch their wives get it on with other dudes," he said with this huge, knowing grin.
I figured he was just messing with me, so I played along, "Yeah, right. When I get a new girlfriend, I'll totally get off on watching other guys do her, but it's like finding a unicorn to get a girl who's into that." I was cracking up.
But George was serious, "They're out there, man, in bigger numbers than you'd think. Not everyone's into it, but you'd be shocked at what goes on behind closed doors or in motel rooms. Ever heard of swingers?"
"Of course," I replied, still chuckling. "Well, if you ever need a volunteer, I'm your guy." I was joking, but he just smiled and said he'd talk to his wife about it.
We went our separate ways that night, but later he called me. Said he'd spoken with his wife, and she was down for it. Then he invited me over for dinner that weekend. I was like, "Are you serious?" He laughed and sent me a picture of her, naked, sitting with her legs spread wide open.
I'd never done anything like this before, but the thought of getting with his hot wife got me all riled up. I had to jerk off just to calm down. I told myself I'd go over for dinner and, you know, "dessert."
I pulled up to George's place on Saturday evening, a little uneasy but with a buzz of excitement. His house was that classic American dream, with a white picket fence and lawn so green it looked like it was painted.
George answered the door with a grin wide enough to split his face. "Simon, glad you made it," he said, clapping me on the back as he ushered me inside. The house was filled with the scent of home-cooked food and those fancy candles that make you feel like you're in a spa.
Then Lisa walked in from the kitchen, and I swear, my jaw must've hit the floor. She was wearing this little black dress that clung to her like a second skin. She had this hourglass figure, hips that swayed with each step, a waist you could encircle with your hands, and breasts that were just the right size to fill out the top of that dress. Her hair was a cascade of chestnut curls, her eyes twinkling with mischief, and her smile could've lit up a room. Her legs, man, they went on forever, accentuated by these strappy heels that I bet cost more than my last paycheck.
"Simon, it's so good to see you," she purred, leaning in for a hug that lingered just a bit too long, her perfume enveloping me.
We sat down for dinner, and it was like something out of a fancy restaurant--steak so tender it melted in your mouth, with sides that looked like they'd been styled for Instagram.
"So, Simon," Lisa said, her voice smooth as the wine she was pouring, "George tells me you're single again. How's that going for you?"
I laughed, feeling the wine loosen my tongue, "Well, let's just say I'm on the market, but the selection seems to be lacking."
George chimed in, "Oh, come on, you can do better than that. What do you look for in a woman?"
Lisa cut in, her eyes locked on mine, "Besides the obvious, of course." She gave a playful wink, her hand brushing against mine as she passed the bread.
The conversation was laced with flirtation, with Lisa dropping hints like she was laying breadcrumbs. "You know, Simon, sometimes it's about finding the right... chemistry," she said, her gaze intense.
Dinner wrapped up, and we moved to the living room, glasses of wine in hand. Lisa stood up, stretching in a way that made her dress ride up just enough to tease, "I think I'll turn in early, boys. Don't stay up too late."
She left with a sway that was almost hypnotic, her voice trailing behind, "Goodnight, Simon. George, don't wear him out too much."
Now, it was just George and me, the room feeling smaller, the wine bottle almost empty.
"Man, she's something else," I said, my head spinning a bit from the wine.
George laughed, pouring the last of the wine into our glasses, "Yeah, she knows how to make an impression. We've always been pretty open, you know. We trust each other enough to explore... new things."
He looked at me, his eyes a little glassy but earnest, "You good with this, Simon? I mean, really good?"
