My wife, Gina, and I have always had open minds about matters sexual. This probably stems from the fact that we are very secure, self-confident people, especially in our marriage. During our two decades of matrimony, we've had lots of affairs. We abide by one basic rule: no secrets. She went to Bermuda for a week with her boss a few years ago. When she got home, she told me everything about the trip down to the last sperm cell. When I took my secretary to Las Vegas, Gina heard all the juicy details. I believe relating the details of our escapades heightens our desire for each other. I know I get turned on hearing her tales of the screwing she gets. She certainly reacts enthusiastically when I tell her mine. Our bedroom life seems hotter after one or both of us has had extramarital fun.
You can't call us swingers. We don't go out as a couple looking for other couples to swap mates with. Chance encounters have occurred. More than once, we've met another couple and traded partners in front of each other. We've done threesomes and moresomes too. We've never bought another man, woman, or couple.
One evening, we went to our favorite restaurant for dinner. Our waiter was working his first shift there. He introduced himself as Armand. He was a good looking man with a well-tanned complexion. When he took our drink order, he made lingering eye contact with Gina. Her speech was slurred when she asked for a glass of white wine. It sounded more like 'swine.' After he walked away, I asked her what was wrong.
"He makes me weak in the knees," she said. "He's hot."
"Should I go to the men's room while you pick him up?" I asked.
"We don't have a cover for where you went. Also, we don't know if he'll go for a threesome."
"Ask him. When did you become shy about getting laid?"
"I don't know. He's so damn sexy, yet he's so aloof, like an untouchable Greek god."
"I never thought I would see the day when you'd be afraid to go after a guy you wanted."
"Believe it or not, I'm afraid he'll say no. He could have any woman in this room, and most of them are younger and prettier than me."
Gina may be in her early forties, but ugly she is not. Her 38D breasts are still full and firm. She still passes the pencil test. Like any other night we went out, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her cleavage was on display as usual. Being on her feet all day in a department store kept her legs in shape. Twenty sit-ups a day kept her tummy flat and firm. Her long blonde hair contrasted nicely with her deep blue eyes. High cheek bones and wide ruby lips completed her heavenly beauty.
Armand returned with our drinks a minute later. He made eye contact with Gina when he placed her wine before her. When he handed me my scotch I said, "Armand, you seem to find my wife attractive."
"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I meant no offense. You are right, sir. She is a very beautiful woman. You are a fortunate man. All the waiters envy you."
"She finds you attractive as well," I continued. "Would you like to join us after you get off work for a little fun?" Gina discreetly opened a button on her blouse to expose more of her creamy bosom. Armand swallowed visibly.
"It is against policy for the staff to socialize with the customers, sir. I'm sure you can appreciate my position. Are you ready to order?"
"Yes," Gina said, "I'll have a sheepherder's breakfast." She opened another button. This time her dark areolae became visible.
"I'm sorry. I don't think that is on the menu."
"It's on mine."
"I've never heard of such an entreé."
