Fun with Dic and Jane

I didn't hear from Jane for more than a week.

After our interactions at my house (see "Fun With Dick and Jane-01: Gee Spot Run"), I wasn't sure how to interpret this silence of hers. Was she boggled and speechless by the turbulence of her newly awakened lust? Or was she beginning to think about publicly branding me, her neighbor, as a wicked witch? Perhaps the years of rigid, puritanical training would win out over the libidinous thoughts that were welling out of her subconsciousness. I worried about the risk I had taken in confiding in her, but I thought, "What's done is done."

Finally, almost a week and a half after our afternoon walk and masturbation lessons, I got a call from her, inviting me over for dinner on Saturday. After a moment's hesitation -- was this a setup, so that she and Dick could "save" me from my wickedness, or even worse, was I to be tied to the stake and burned like Joan of Arc? -- I agreed to come over. When I asked if she had read more of my stories, she said, "Oh yes, but I can't talk about it now," and in the background, I heard Dick speaking, so I let the subject drop.

I asked if I could bring over anything for dinner.

Jane told me, "No, I'll have all the food ready, but it would be so nice if you could possibly bring over any more of the stuff that you loaned me last week." I hadn't ever given her anything other than the stories, so I knew what she meant, and I was reassured to some extent.

Saturday evening came, and I arrived at their doorstep with a few more of my stories folded into a plain manila envelope. Since I had given her the more tame ones the first time, I was now left with the ones that I had worried were too explicit and unusual for her awakening tastes. But she had the milder ones already, so this is what was left. When she and Dick opened the door, I shook their hands, and Dick took my coat.

While her husband wasn't paying attention, I handed Jane the package, which she placed behind the lamp on a side table. We went into the living room, and I was introduced to a friend of theirs who was a professor at the local college. Charles was a tall and handsome looking guy, but I knew right away that he was a little too smug and pretentious for my tastes. He was smart, and he wanted us to know it. Every subject that came up evoked an opinion from Charles that was carefully constructed like a fortress, unable to be assaulted by anyone else's perspective. Even a light-hearted disagreement with his dogmatic position would be scoffed at, then destroyed by a condescending defense of his point of view.

I started to get more and more irritated by his attitude, but I held my tongue and behaved like a good guest. Dick seemed enthralled by Charles's great store of knowledge, admiring his conversational confidence. Jane appeared preoccupied, and she said very little. I wanted so much to ask her about what had been going on for her since I last saw her, but she certainly wasn't offering to bring it up the subject in the presence of the men.

Eventually, Jane went into the kitchen to prepare dinner -- actually it was already to go, and just needed to be put on serving platters. I joined her, with the offer to help with the chores. When we were finally alone, I asked her what was going on, and she quickly recounted her frustration at the fact that Dick just didn't want to even talk about sex and her anxieties. He just refused to discuss it, and Jane was afraid to push him further. As for the stories and masturbation, she had been stealing moments throughout each day to read and play. At least that part of her life was improving. Yet in the presence of her husband, she found herself reverting to the obedient little girl, filled with the guilt of her dirty little secret.

When we moved to the dining room, Charles was seated across from me around a round butcher block table. Not surprisingly, the table was set meticulously with fine linens and polished silver.

After Jane had served the soup, Charles asked, "How is it that you know Dick and Jane, Susan?"

I replied, "I'm their neighbor from down the street. Jane and I run into each other from time to time at stores and local events. She and I enjoyed a particularly nice walk in the park just the other day."

Dick turned toward Jane and remarked, "You never mentioned that you saw Susan in the park recently." Jane responded wordlessly and sheepishly by casting her gaze down at her plate, and I could see her twisting her napkin nervously. Her discomfort was obvious to all, and I wanted to draw attention away from her.

Jane finally stammered, "We only met for a few moments that day. It seemed too trivial to mention."

Dick was not satisfied with that answer, and wanted to know more. He persisted in asking about what we had done that day, what we had talked about. Typical of so many men, he wanted to know everything, and he surely sensed an opportunity to exercise his manly dominance and power.

Jane offered very little in response, and eventually, she looked up at me and our eyes locked. I gave her a totally reassuring and warm smile, trying to give her the strength to stand up for herself. Charles laughed, and said, "These girls are up to something, Dick, and if I were you, I'd get to the bottom of it."

Calling us "girls" was the last straw (after all, we were all in our early forties), so I responded quickly, "For someone who knows so much, you know so little." Beginning to steam, I was off and running now, and any ideas of maintaining my social graces had flown out the window.

Charles came back with, "So what is it exactly that I am failing to grasp?"

I just had to let him know. I told him,"Jane, and many other women, are living their lives as slaves to an image of sanctimonious womanhood that just misses the mark completely. Can't you see that Jane is not a happy person, that she is yearning for more excitement and more freedom?"

I went on for a bit more, and then took a look over at Dick. He was shell-shocked, I think, for he had no idea about the feelings that Jane was struggling with. He said to her, "Jane, what's going on? I know you're happy with your life. We have so much to be grateful for. Tell Sue that she's mistaken. Tell both of our guests that she doesn't know what she is talking about."

As he spoke, Jane shook herself out of her trance, and she looked back at me for another spoonful of courage before interrupting Dick with a long and spirited explanation of what was really going on in her life. At first, she talked haltingly and in generalities, about her discontent with their predictable and rigid existence. But eventually, Jane let the word "sex" pass by her lips, and then a floodgate opened up within her, and she spoke emotionally about the emptiness of their sex lives, and the need she had for stimulation and excitement.

Dick's face was expressionless, and his mouth hung open. Charles listened attentively, with a little smirk. This was none of his business, but Jane could care less if he eavesdropped on her confession. She was staring holes through Dick's head, as she finally got around to mentioning my stories, and how they opened up a brave new world for her that included fantasies and concepts that turned her on, liberating her from the confines of her straight-laced lifestyle.

At the reference to the fact that I had provided Jane with some of my stories, Charles pricked up his ears. "Isn't that interesting," he said. "Our little friend here has it in her head that she is an author of erotica. I suppose that may be true, if you include the silly musings that pass for sexuality in romance novels. I'm sure that it is nothing that really gets at the nitty-gritty stuff about sex that interests real men."

Boy, did that man know how to push my buttons! I had something to prove to him. Dick voiced his stuttering objections -- he pleaded, he demanded, "Everyone please shut up about this. Let's talk about something else!"

Fat chance! Jane had finally opened up her "hope chest" of needs, Charles was gloating over his attempted put-down of me, and I was ready to prove him wrong.

I challenged him, "OK, Charles, why don't I read something of mine, and you see if you can remain disinterested. You can guess what the test will be. If my story excites you, we'll all know it." With that, I let my focus drop to his lap, where his napkin lay limply.

I stood up and walked out to the hallway and recovered the manila envelope. When I returned, they all sat silently. In particular, I noticed Jane's eyes flashing around from person to person. I also saw the jutting nubs of her incredible nipples pushing against the white fabric of her blouse. Perhaps I was mistaken, but it seemed like she wasn't wearing a bra. What a change from the plain Jane she had been! Her breathing was becoming labored, reminding me of how energetic she got about masturbating for me. Once unchained, she was a wild sexual animal.

I sat down again, and pulled out my story entitled "Louvre Love" from the envelope. I chose it because it was reasonably short, and the build up got around to the really juicy stuff. Without any introduction, I began reading. "Across the wide marble floor of the art museum, I thought I saw your face again...." I kept my attention firmly locked on the printed words, until I got to the first real sex scene of the story:

"You almost seemed to be in a trance as I pursed my lips over the tip of your cock and gently milked your balls. When I took one hand and placed the tips of my fingers up behind your balls and pressed upward and forward right in front of your asshole, I pushed a dollop of precum up through your rigid cock, and it drooled out onto my lips."

At that point, I glanced quickly around the table. Charles was somewhat inscrutable, but at least he had shut up for a few minutes. Perhaps that was victory enough. Jane's eyes were wide, and her I could hear the faint rasping of her breathing. Dick had his fingertips pressed to his temples, and he had pushed his hair up into disarray. He avoided looking at me, or for that matter, anyone else.

Back to the reading of my story. I didn't look up again, even when I described about how I impaled myself on the great bronze god-cock of the sculpture; or how my partner and I fucked each other in the embrace of the marble sculpture. I eventually got to the last paragraph:

"I could hear the squishing sounds as your fingers probed around, and I described to you where my G spot was. After a few attempts, you found it and I encouraged you to rub it firmly with a circular motion. I reached behind me and pulled my ass cheeks apart so that you could have total free access. Your thumb lightly caressed my asshole. My clitoris, my cunt, and my asshole were all being stimulated at once, and I added to this by massaging my breasts into the stone woman's thigh. I stared ahead into the joining of the woman's cunt with the man's balls. As I stretched my tongue out to lick at the cold juncture between the two of them, you nibbled down hard on my clitoris and sucked my labia up into your mouth. That was perfect, immediately forcing me over the edge and into an incredible orgasm. I was cumming and cumming! I squeezed down hard on my ass cheeks with my hands. Wave after wave washed over me, and your fingers vibrated over my G spot. I gulped in air between the electric pulses of each pounding wave, and my cunt clenched down on your fingers. I felt my asshole palpitating around the tip of your thumb. My orgasm lasted for so long,......... until finally it subsided, and I took a moment to get my wits about me...."

As I finished the last words, I let the silence of the moment linger, then I turned to Charles and demanded that he stand up. When he refused, I slid out of my chair and stood behind his. Reaching around the back, I abruptly jabbed my fingers into his sides. I guessed correctly that he was ticklish, and he was so startled that he jumped to his feet so that he could defend himself.

There was the evidence of his reaction to my story.

His slacks were plainly tented with his erection, and the khaki material had small dark stain of spreading moisture. He was embarrassed, perhaps not so much to have his aroused cock made visible, but even more to have lost my challenge. He was a proud man, and being shown up by me was an unwanted sign of his fallibility. He sat back down in his chair with a leaden thunk.

I too sat down again. I'd had my victory, and it was time to be magnanimous. "Charles, earlier I said that for someone who knows so much, you know so little. Well, I suppose that this is to be expected when your IQ tops the charts, and you spend too much time in libraries, lecture halls, and Mensa meetings. Probably all your girlfriends have been fawning little coeds and the like.

"So here's a deal for you. How would you like to expand your horizons tonight? I'd like for you to discover what a real, hot-blooded woman is like, and how you can satisfy her, and yourself at the same time. Come into the bedroom with me right now, and you can start your re-education. I'm not even going to ask you if you will do this. Just join me in the bedroom, or not. It would be your loss if you don't. All this talk has made me very hungry, but not for the good food that Jane has prepared."

Foregoing the rest of the dinner, I stood up from the table. As I started to walk out of the room, Jane spoke up. "Can I watch?"

I said, "Of course, Jane. I'd like that very much. If Charles doesn't show up, we can watch each other again."

Dick was finally shaken out of his lethargy. I was standing right next to him, and looking down, I could see his erection showing through his pants. So much for self-control. But in this moment of truth, he fell back on his timeworn thinking, shouting, "JANE! How could you? You can't possibly want to join them in this wickedness. What did Sue mean by 'again', anyway? I am going to throw this cunning temptress out of my house right this minute."

Jane responded immediately, "Don't you dare! Sue is my guest, and my friend. She is giving me the keys to my happiness. Don't you interfere. I won't tell you what to do with yourself right now, but you had better not try to stop me, or I'll leave tonight and never come back."

Dick was struck dumb as Jane smiled broadly at her new-found power, and I laughed softly to myself as I strode though the door into the hallway and found my way to Dick and Jane's bedroom. It was decorated in sort of a "colonial quaint" style, with Currier and Ives prints on the wall, ruffled white curtains, and a thick maroon comforter on the pencil-post bed. Kicking off my shoes, I jumped up onto that bed and propped up the floral print pillows behind my back. When I looked back at the door, there was Jane, leaning against the jamb with her the fingers of one hand pulling and twirling her short bangs.

I was just about to speak to her so that I could find out how she was handling the stormy discussion in her dining room, when Charles pushed past her and stood next to the bed. His eyes were now fiery with lust, and his erection still press at the fly of his pants.

He reached over to turn off the table lamp, but I stopped him, saying, "Leave it on. Jane wants to watch. And so do I. Take off your clothes for me." He seemed taken aback by the firmness in my voice, as he was clearly not accustomed to a woman in the bedroom who did anything but mewl like a kitten in the dark.

Nevertheless, he was driven to continue, and I'm not sure what it would have taken to stop him at this point. He stepped back from me and yanked his sweater over his head. When he started to unbutton his shirt as fast as a fireman getting on his uniform for a fire, I commanded him to slow down. "Don't you think you could put on a little show for us? Show us what you've got hidden under all those starched duds, but do it slow and easy." I winked mischievously, hoping that it would help relax him, and he did calm down a bit.

When his button-down shirt was gone, he left on his ribbed sleeveless undershirt. He unbuckled his khaki slacks and pushed them down to his ankles. But he had neglected to take off his shoes, so he struggled awkwardly to untangle the knot of clothes while he remained jackknifed at the waist.

Eventually, the snarl came off of his feet, and he straightened up, showing us his underwear, which was uncharacteristic, I thought, for he was wearing a pair of those teeny, tight bikini briefs. Through the thin black cotton, Jane and I could see his erect cock clearly outlined and pointing straight up towards his belly button. Bushy black hair overflowed all around the edges of his briefs, and filled the V-neck of his undershirt. Little clumps of hair also sprouted on his shoulders and upper back. All-in-all, not a bad looking body, and I made the assumption that he had taken advantage of the facilities at the College sports center. He didn't get that physique by only exercising his ego.

As both Jane and I admired him, Charles stood silent and still, with his hands on his hips. He wasn't volunteering to go further with his striptease, so I got up from the bed and stood close to him, with my back facing his chest. I asked him to undress me. He unzipped my dress and I shrugged off the shoulder straps and let the bodice fall enough so that my entire upper body was revealed. The dress caught on my hips, but Charles pushed it further down so that it fell into a pile around my feet. I kicked it away, and stood there in only my shiny blue satin panties, as skimpy as his own underwear.

I pushed my ass backwards so that it collided with his groin, and I slid it around, feeling his rock-hard erection pressing into and between my cheeks. Raising my hands up toward the ceiling, I gave Charles an open invitation, "Play with my breasts." His hands immediately enveloped my tits, and he started squeezing hard; too hard.

"I don't want to be mauled, please! Be sensitive, and concentrate on my nipples and the flesh right under the surface." He was a fast learner, for his technique improved radically, and tendrils of pleasure raced around my body.

I looked over at Jane, and she too was getting aroused, both by the sight of Charles and me, as well as by the motions of her hands. It reminded me of how I had caught her recently in my den, for once again, she had one hand snaked up into her white blouse, this time toying with her now bra-less breasts. Her other hand was unbuttoning all of the front closures of her plaid skirt, and I saw that hand dive through the slit and head directly into the depths of her crotch. She smiled at me, and on second thought, unclipped the waist of the skirt and let it fall behind her feet. Then she returned her attention to her cunt, which was clad in a string bikini made of sheer floral lace. Her mound of tightly curled dark hair showed through the semi-transparent fabric, which creased deeply into the slice between the two halves of her vulva. As was the case in my den, her panties were soaked with her juices.

Suddenly I realized that Dick was standing in the dark shadows of the hallway behind Jane, unnoticed by her. Apparently, his wholesome morality was no match for his curiosity and his animal compulsions, for he was ogling the scene that was unfolding in his bedroom with unchecked lust. Even in the dark, the fire of his urges showed in his eyes like burning embers.

Jane followed the direction of my gaze, and when she saw her husband hidden behind her, I thought that she would close up, maybe close the door in his face. Instead, she extended her hand toward him, and when he took it, she drew him through the doorway. She embraced him, dragging her naked leg up onto his hips and hooking her foot behind his ass, so that she could pull him firmly into her loins. She kissed him with a hunger and aggression that had been hidden from Dick for all their years together. After a moment's hesitation, he responded by twining his hand into her short hair and pulling her lips to his. His other hand reached down and slid behind her and into her panties, cupping the tightly muscled cheek.