1.
The first time I met Martha was in the fall of 1975, or thereabout.
Her husband, George, and I were college classmates, sharing classes together and working on the college poetry magazine. He was a skinny, beak-nosed fellow with rather lifeless brown eyes, intense, with the typically undergraduate assurance that we were intellectually superior to everyone else around us.
He studied French, frequently citing those French poets of whom I still know very little, while I limited my self to Keats and Shelley and a smattering of modern Spanish poets in translation. He studied French, I think, because he felt it to be more avant-garde, while I studied Spanish because I needed two years of a language to graduate and I figured it was the easiest way out.
Apart from shared classes and work on the magazine, George and I frequented the bars occasionally with a few other college friends. Whenever he had a little bit too much to drink, which was frequently, he always turned the conversation to sex, liberated sex, sex with no boundaries. I figured it was the influence of his French poetry coming out. From time to time I saw him and Martha at a party. She and I always chatted a bit, but I never really gave her much thought. She was attractive in a skinny sort of way, tall and lanky, with shoulder-length brown hair that reminded me a bit of Faye Dunaway in Chinatown. But she was his wife, and I was definitely more interested in someone unattached.
One day while working on assorted editorial chores, George asked me if I’d like to come by their house that evening for a few drinks. I had no plans, so I readily agreed. I was twenty-four at the time and recently divorced. I figured sharing a few drinks with a married couple was better than drinking alone in some bar, where I’d probably find little of interest and would wind up home alone anyway. At any rate, I’d be able to have some good conversation, and it seemed a good way to expand my relatively limited circle of friends.
I got to their small house around 9:30, and after taking a quick tour, we sat down on the couch to listen to some music. I’d brought a bottle of tequila, so Martha excused herself to fix drinks. Making idle chat with George, I took a discrete look at her as she left. Her tight jeans showed off a nicely rounded ass, something I didn’t expect to see on a skinny gal. When she returned, I enjoyed her tight red sweater which clearly showed her nipples. She was wearing no bra--nothing remarkable for the seventies
She sat between George and me. It was a small couch so we were sitting there thigh to thigh. As I’d had a few drinks before arriving, I was enjoying the feel of her leg next to mine. It had been over a month since I was last with a woman, and I figured I would enjoy whatever small pleasure was available.
We went through several rounds of drinks, listening to the music, smoking cigarettes, chatting idly. Clearly George was beginning to feel the effects of the José Cuervo and began talking about “sex, liberated sex, sex with no boundaries.” Martha gave me a twinkling grin and rolled her eyes as if to say, “Here he goes again.” I figured with that there would be no more drinks and that she’d probably start trying to bring the evening to a close.
To my surprise, she got up, gave me a wink, and headed to the kitchen for another round. George leaned over, put his hand on my thigh, and said in a low voice that if I was up for it, Martha might like to fool around with me a little. Despite the drinks I’d had, I was a bit taken aback. However, always being open to whatever, I said that if he was okay with it we could see what happened when she returned. He grinned, squeezed my thigh in a friendly manner, and moved back over to his seat on the couch.
I heard a toilet flush and within a few moments Martha returned, drinks in hand. While putting them down, she and George exchanged glances, then she sat down between us once again and turned to me with a knowing smile.
She leaned into me and gave me a brief peck and a strong hug. I looked over at George and, when he nodded me a go-ahead, Martha and I entered a passionate embrace. Even though I felt strange with the situation, my emotions were intense. I began fondling her breasts and slowly moved my hand under her sweater. She reacted immediately to this and placed her hand between my thighs, gently squeezing my balls and exploring my hard on with her thumb and forefinger.
George moved back against his seat to give us a bit more room, and I noticed he was lightly massaging his own erection. But I was so caught up in the sensations we were experiencing that I could care less what he did.
I raised her sweater, flicking her small nipples in circular motions with my tongue. She reacted by tugging my belt free, undoing the top button of my jeans and unzipping my pants. In those days I never wore underwear, so she easily freed my dick, stroking me slowly, gently, spreading the precum over the head. I caressed her mound through her jeans and, moaning, she spread her thighs wider to give me better access. She then reached down and undid her pants so that I could touch her directly. We were absolutely carried away, mindless of anything else.
At this point I felt a tugging at my jeans and I raised my hips to make it easier to pull them down. As my seven and half inches sprang to full attention, I pulled Martha into an even harder embrace, relishing every moment of our lovemaking. It was then I realized that it was George, not Martha, who had pulled down my pants and he was the one who was now stroking me.
The intensity of my feelings was incredible, but it grew ever stronger when he kissed the tip of my dick and then engulfed me entirely in his wet, warm mouth. Nuzzling my pubes, he then slowly backed off, bathing me in his saliva and licking the underside from balls to crown.
Meanwhile, I was finger-fucking Martha and massaging her clit with my thumb. Her body began to tense up, clearly on the verge of an orgasm. George was working me over like a pro, taking me completely in his mouth and then slowly letting me out, swirling his tongue over the head of my dick, lapping along the underside of the shaft, teasing my balls, and then engulfing me completely once again. I was in a new world and had no desire to ever leave it, sucking on Martha’s breasts, masturbating her, and getting the blowjob of a lifetime.
Martha was responding strongly to my attention and began to buck and moan in a shattering orgasm. I then joined her, filling George’s mouth with one hell of a load. He held me in his mouth until I began to soften.
