This is a "stand alone" story, but the characters have been introduced in earlier tales. Particularly, Kathy (aka "Petey") Denise (aka "Dene") and Chad ("Beebe") were introduced in Chapter 1 of 9-chapter series that follows those three young lovers as they discover and explore their sexuality. You can
read the first one here
. This story also references
Chapter 8, "A Thanksgiving to Remember" which you can read here
and
"Petey and Dene on the Town" here
Hope you enjoy this oneβthere will be at least one sequel!! --Val
Four for Fridayβwith a pair of surprises
Andy and I headed for Chicago on the Thursday night before Memorial Day weekend. I drove to his house about 30 miles south of Effingham, picked him up after work and we headed north on I-57. I wanted to arrive at Dene and Rex's Evanston home around 10 PM. We had a good start and with Andy at the wheel I was daydreaming about the foursome I hoped we'd finally have this weekend. I was startled out of my rising horniness by a massive traffic jam. We hadn't even gotten as far as the I-70 exit toward St. Louis! Traffic crawled, or more accurately just stayed stopped, then suddenly surged forward and just as suddenly stopped again. It felt like we were already on the friggin' Dan Ryan!! Andy wasn't surprised--he said that there was construction further on, and that this wasn't particularly unusual. Just after we crawled past the I-70 West exit, we heard an Effingham station report a jack-knifed semi at the I-70E/I-57N interchange. It had triggered a chain reaction of semis and cars in the northbound I-57 lanes. 3 hours later, we finally made it to an exit and pulled off. It was pretty clear that people getting off at exits were the only reason traffic was moving at all.
We found a Culvers Restaurant, had some very fine burgers and fries, and thought maybe things would have cleared by the time we finished. They hadn't.
By then:
It was 9 o'clock;
there were hotels close to the exit; and
we were tired and disgusted.
We simultaneously turned to each other and said: "Let's just spend the night . . .!"
I called Dene to let her know we were stuck while Andy got the room. Dene was disappointed, of course, but understood. We chatted pleasantly for a while. Then as we said goodbye she added: "I've got a surprise--think you're going to like it!" She was gone before I could quiz her, but the smile in her voice hinted at something we'd never tried before. Hmmm.
By the time we settled into the room it was almost as late as we had hoped to get to Dene's. Sheesh.
"You've been pretty quiet," I told Andy, "something on your mind?"
Andy and I had talked over the last few months about swinging with Dene and Rex. I'd been honest with him about the period when my 2nd husband and I were in the lifestyle. He got worked up when I talked about my experiences with 3-somes and 4-somes, but he wasn't sold on the idea.
"I've got conflicting feelings, that's for sure," he replied.
"Say more?" I asked.
"Well, from any guy's standpoint, Dene is hot. I'll confess having some fantasies about her. But from a lifelong "good guy" viewpoint, cheating on you with your best friend sounds scary. And before you say it, yes, I know it would be OK with both of you and you wouldn't think it was cheating--but I can't help the aprehension."
"You know I don't want you to do anything that makes you feel bad, don't you?" I asked.
"I know."
"Dene feels the same way. This weekend is an opportunity, that's all. Not a command performance."
"I know that too."
"But you wouldn't mind seeing Dene's tits, would you?" I grinned.
"I could probably stand that," he grinned back. "Just to see how the surgery turned out, you know?"
"Sure. And if her gown accidentally slid open and you caught a glimpse of her bush, that would be OK, wouldn't it?"
"You're going to keep up this progression 'till she's hypothetically blowing me, aren't you?" He knew me pretty well, but he was still smiling.
"Welllllllllll, mayyyybe," I allowed, snuggling up to him, "and I'm damned certain you wouldn't mind Dene's blow jobs--she's at
least
as good as I am."
"Don't quite see how that could be, Kath," Andy kissed my forehead, "if blowjobs were an olympic event, you'd take gold."
"Mmmm. Wonder how may dicks I'd need to suck on the way the podium? And who'd judge? I mean, would the judges just watch me do the same guy over and over, or would I have to suck fresh ones each time? Would there be some uniform standard for dicks? And how much time it had been since their last blow job? Maybe the judges' dicks would be the final performance?" I reached down to give his balls a gentle squeeze as I speculated. "I wonder if it would be a team sport with individual events, like gymnastics, or "head-to-head" contests. Ooo--guess it'd have to be head-to-dick, wouldn't it? And would I need to swallow all the cum? If I had to do a lot of guys, I might start getting fat!"
"I think you'd need an expert trainer--somebody that could keep you focused and give you good feedback on technique," he continued the sexy goof.
"Hey, could you do that for me?" I begged. "You could tell me just how deep to take each guy and how long to stay down, and how fast to bob my head . . ."