Giselle And I Ch 01

Dear Reader

This is my first post to literotica. I've had this fantasy in my head for some time. None of the people in this story are real, but obviously I take my cues from real life. It starts a little slow and this first chapter is not that juicy. If I get good feedback, I'll write down the next chapter, where things heat up a bit. I've got about 5 chapters in my head now, but writing and editing takes a lot of time!

The Meanderer

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Neither of us had seen Madeline in over six months, our last contact was when we helped her move out to (what seemed to us like) the wilderness after a messy breakup with her ex, Jennifer. Jennifer and she had been together for more than 7 years, and were commonly referred to as J&M, since for most of that time they were inseparable. Jennifer and Madeline moved to town around the same time as Giselle and I, and for a few years we hung out together two or three times a week.

My wife, Giselle, finished her Doctorate a year before I finished my medical residency and as a result, her job search for a professorship started a little sooner than my own for a practice. Things worked out perfectly, as she was able to land a spot at what was her first choice, a prestigious University about an hour away from the big city where we lived and where I had my residency. I used my existing contacts to find a practice in the city, and found the commute to this wonderfully quirky, fun college town completely manageable. We purchased a terrific Victorian within walking distance to campus on the hope and expectation that within a few years Giselle would be granted tenure.

Giselle is 34 years old. She's tall, at 5'10, has ice blue eyes and blonde hair down to her waist. She's a bit of Nordic Goddess in looks. Her features are angular, but these disappear in her warm smile. She has excellent skin, and when she pulls her hair back and puts her half-glasses on, she's an absolutely terrifying image of a professor, even at her young age. She has a nice bust, with C cups, D in some bras. They don't seem particularly large as she is so tall herself, but close up..... just wonderful. Before she had our daughter, I would have said she had a bit of a flat butt. Low and behold, the baby carried straight out front and the only place she gained any weight was on her butt - perfect. That and regular exercise and I became one of the few guys who can say their wife has a better body now than before a baby.

I'm a couple years older than Giselle. I'm the same height as her and am in pretty good shape. My hair is dark and coarse, and I keep it fairly short. It's sadly salt and peppered beyond my years; no baldness... yet. I leave the house early and swim at the local Y for an hour each morning, unless there's something happening at work. I myself am a gynecological surgeon, in a group. (How I ended up with this specialty is sort of a long and different story.)

Giselle and I met while we were both in grad school in the city; she's a wunderkind in an arcane niche of information sciences. (That's a fancy way of saying she's a librarian - but never, ever call her that.)

Madeline and Giselle were acquainted as undergraduates in California; they were both in a student theatrical production of A Streetcar Named Desire. Giselle was a senior and Madeline a freshman, so their relationship in college was limited to the production and friendly nods when passing on campus. Since they were both from California, they were both surprised to bump into each other all the way across the country, in the main campus library shortly after Giselle started working at the University. Madeline was going back to school for an MFA – she had a grant and wanted time to be a full time painter. Like us, Jennifer and she had just moved to town, and it turned out they had rented a small townhouse only a couple blocks away from Giselle and I.

Jennifer was the outgoing one that everyone remembered; she was tall, big boned, and butch. To say that we were closer to either Jennifer or Madeline would not be fair, but as in the case of ugly breakups, the friends often get divvied up as well. Since Giselle and Madeline knew each other before Jennifer and Madeline had met, we ended up as Madeline's friends. I wasn't sure if I liked the idea that we had to choose between them, but in reality, by the time of their breakup, we had grown apart as couples, we having had our daughter, Maya, and they having become enmeshed in the campus GLBT scene. We have nothing against the GLBT community, but aside from not fitting in exactly, we were also significantly older than most of the students. Giselle, being a professor, didn't think it a good an idea to go to student events, anyhow. In the end, being in Madeline's camp of the breakup was the right thing for everyone – Jennifer became less and less interested in socializing outside of the GLBT community. Madeline felt stifled by the tight, gossipy GLBT university crowd, and also started missing important gallery openings and such due to commitments Jennifer had made on behalf of both of them.

Jennifer was not only a natural leader, and also quite attention needy. She also was (and I'm sure still is) hilarious, and fun, and flamboyant. Madeline was the quiet one, but when she did speak it was always intelligent and discerning, and exactly appropriate to the context – she was a good listener. She was, I think, also the wilder one of the two although you never would have guessed it. Like the time when Jennifer joked about staring a two hour drive to the beach at three in the morning - to watch the sun rise. Madeline pushed her, saying, "Yeah, I'd like that. Let me get my keys." But Jennifer never really understood Madeline's passion for painting, and didn't take much of an interest in her art unless it was to somehow impress others that Madeline was her girlfriend. In the end, an off-hand comment made Madeline about a (male) painter she met being hot totally set Jennifer off. Madeline often was the recipient of men's attention, which bothered Jennifer a lot more than it did Madeline. But Jennifer's annoyance was usually kept in check by a reassuring comment from Madeline, like "What an asshole", or something like that. This incident spurred a weeklong argument, at the end of which they both decided things had ended for them. In the meantime, Jennifer had rallied the entire GLBT crowd to her camp and Madeline found that most of the crowd were not really her friends, and seemed to be more interested in juicy gossip. At one point, the story was inflated to the point that Madeline had slept with this painter and Jennifer didn't seem to make any effort to disabuse the rumor mill of this falsehood, probably because of all of the sympathy she was getting.

Madeline knew she needed to get out of town and what she really wanted was a quiet country retreat where she could paint. After we helped Madeline move out, Giselle and she would chat on the phone about once a week, but we never seemed to be able to arrange a time to get together. In the meantime, Madeline had been busy; her solitude had really provided her with ample time and mental space to concentrate on her painting. In the last six months, she had been so prolific and her craft had improved so much, she was offered a one-person show at one of the city's most prestigious galleries.

Of course we couldn't miss the opening, and we arranged for Madeline to drive to our house before the show so we could all drive into the city together, since we were basically en route from her house to the city. Without traffic, we lived about 45 minutes outside the city; Madeline two hours. Madeline also expected to have a few drinks at the opening reception, and since I hate being a passenger, told my wife she was free to booze it up and I would (as usual), be the designated driver. Madeline even brought an overnight bag in case she didn't feel like driving the rest of the way after the big night. I made a dinner reservation for the three of us after the opening to celebrate, and arranged for our baby sitter, Anjali, to take care of Maya for the evening.

Giselle looked great. She was wearing a sequined two piece number and a pair of red shoes; the top was a bit short, so the whole outfit looked very clubbish, not quite formal; her midriff was visible when she moved certain ways. I was wearing jeans, a nice collar-less shirt and a grey silk sports jacket. We were both dressed a bit "Summery" for January, but we didn't want to seem stodgy - we wanted to look cool, as Madeline's friends.

When Madeline arrived I couldn't believe my eyes. She had grown red her hair out from the near crew-cut she sported when she was with Jennifer. She had obviously been to a hair salon in the last couple days, as her hair was beautifully styled, so her fine hair, parted to the side, hung in sultry bangs just to her eyes. And she was wearing lipstick & mascara – I had never seen her wear any makeup before. She always looked much younger than her age – she was always asked for ID when ordering a drink. Before today, she always reminded me of a teenage boy, with her baby-face, freckles, slender hips, and short hair.

She was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a very tight t-shirt that accentuated her small but perfectly shaped breasts. I had never seen her in anything like that; I was used to seeing her in a plaid flannel shirt. She wasn't wearing high heels, but she was wearing heels – a big change from the converse high-tops that had been her uniform for many years. I also noticed her jeans were considerably tighter than I remembered her wearing, and wondered if she had shrunk them. Her butt looked awesome, and she caught me checking it out as she bent over the trunk to get her bag out.

"Excuse Me?" she said, shaking me out of my momentary daydream.

I went flush and took the bag from her. "Sorry, I was just..."

"Checking out my ass? Well, I guess these jeans are pretty tight, and I did shrink them just to try to get that effect, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. No offense taken, but incident noted."

I didn't follow up on this cryptic remark. Continuing the conversation was just going to increase the likelihood of have the whole incident repeated to Giselle, and I didn't need that headache.

Giselle of course had a million compliments for Madeline. I'm always so afraid of offending a woman by commenting on her appearance, but of course Giselle had no such inhibition.

"Just look at you, you vixen! Hoping to find a new girl tonight? You look terrific!" Giselle exclaimed as Madeline entered. "Turn around so I can see you." Madeline slowly spun. "Jeez, look at your ass. I can't believe you've been hiding that for all these years. You'll certainly get some attention tonight."

"Already started", Madeline quipped, giving me a sidelong glance. I think Giselle assumed Madeline was referring to her own remark, as the conversation moved on without further comment.

The opening was a stunning success. All but two of the twenty-one paintings were sold, and there were definite maybes on those two. I figured Madeline's share would be well over 40K; she was officially a successful artist. She was in a joyous mood, and kept egging Giselle on to keep pace with her drinking-wise. We went to dinner and the two of them split a bottle of champagne, and they were both hyper-animated on the car ride home, both sitting in the middle row of the Dodge Caravan and me up front. We were all a bit underdressed for the January weather, but the restaurant had a roaring fire and was plenty warm. God knows why I have a Dodge Caravan. When Giselle was pregnant she insisted we buy a minivan that was "sized for a family". You choose your battles with a pregnant woman.

Giselle and I have been together for a long time. When we first met, she drank a fair amount – not problematically, but situationally – she was in Grad school. She sort of has a switch which turns on after her third drink, and her personality changes; she gets wild, loud. (I myself tend to fall asleep after too much to drink - partly why I don't mind much being the driver.) Her change was hit or miss, mostly hit; if she wasn't embarrassing you, she was really, really fun to be around. I'm not much an adventurer myself, so many of my best experiences have been due to someone close, including Giselle, pushing me outside my comfort zone. It's something I love about her. That loud, wild personality is waiting at any moment, for the right opportunity.

The best sex we've ever had is was when she was loaded. But the alcohol wasn't changing her personality; it's a catalyst, to allow her inner beast to set forth - an assertive predator, hungry for life. Sometimes it came out because of sex. Before we married and had good jobs, we were on a vacation in Europe. I had a fairly carefully route planned out and we were on our way from Switzerland to Austria, with the intent to drive north along the Romantic Road through Bavaria. We were in Austria and had had a really outstanding morning of sex. We got up just in time to get the last scraps of breakfast; Giselle was ravenous, cleaning the last bits of food from several serving plates, going for three servings of breakfast - she was flying high. Again, almost on the edge of being embarrassing, especially in a conservative Austrian countryside inn. She saw a brochure describing the natural wonders of Croatia, and after all was said and done, we ended up driving all the way to Greece. At that time (and probably today), the area wasn't perfectly safe for tourist driving around the country-side. Of course it was the best vacation of my life. The natural beauty, absence of other tourists, combined with the hospitality of the locals was overwhelming.

It is normal for couples to slow down their sex lives when a baby comes along. I also know a lot of couples never really gett back to their earlier sex life. Giselle's pregnancy didn't go well for her, and her gynecologist (another physician in my group), she, and I agreed she shouldn't have another one. I decided I would get a vasectomy at that time (about 5 months after Maya was born) sort of as a present for her birthday, and a not too subtle hint that I wanted to restart our sex life. She took the hint, but that first night of intimacy after almost close to a year, she told me she honestly had no desire for sex at all. That pretty much killed it for me.

A few months after that, one night she finally cuddled up to me, and started rubbing my chest and we did make love. It was sweet, gentle, intense, loving; perfect for her introduction back to sex. Still, most nights my advances were rejected, and I got used to a routine that included sex about once a month. Sometimes it was that beautiful loving sex. Mostly, it was more functional – I would get her off as quickly as a gynecological surgeon's fingers can, followed by a quick fuck in the missionary position.

Of course, Giselle didn't touch a drop of booze for over 2 years, between the pregnancy and breastfeeding. Not that she needed booze to want sex, but when she got loaded, she pretty much did want sex. She also tended to want a rowdier, rougher kind of sex. This was the first time I had seen her drunk in over a year, and mind wandered to the last time, on New Year's Eve the previous year. All she wanted to do was rub her clitoris while sucking me, but it was only the second time she had ever swallowed my cum, and the first time she tried to deep throat me. She came to orgasm while my penis was deep in her throat, which triggered my orgasm. It wasn't the best sex of my life, but, yeah, it was good.

I refocused on what the women were saying. They started talking about what and how much they could drink when we got to the house when I spoke up, "Remember Anjali and Jason, Anjali's boyfriend? They're babysitting and will probably be expecting to play a few hands of poker. I mean I'd play, but maybe you guys are too hyper. We could just give them our regrets."

"Oh sure, I had forgotten them, but that's OK; a few hands of poker might be what I need to decompress. Madeline, you ever play poker? Anjali and Jason don't generally drink much but they're perfectly fun to hang out with," Giselle said.

Madeline replied, "Well, I mean, not really. I guess I know the rules – usually you get five or seven cards and you try to make the best hand you can, and that there are bunch of different ways to play, like the Texas one they have on TV, or 5 card draw. But I honestly haven't played poker since I was a kid, unless you count a few games of strip poker."

Giselle came back, "Do tell!"

"There's nothing really to, tell. One time in high school I played with my boyfriend, and we ended up having sex, but I mean, there's not that much drama to playing strip poker with whoever you were going to have sex with anyhow - a bit, but not much."

"I didn't know you had had any heterosexual relationships," I said.

"I never said anything about them because it drove Jennifer nuts."

"What about the other games of strip poker?" asked my wife, continuing her line of inquiry.

"Well, the next time was also in high school, same boyfriend, but with four other boys and one other girl. I played well and had lots of clothes on but the other girl chickened out. She wouldn't take her bra or panties off, and the game ended. I did get to see two of the guys' penises, and had a great time thinking of those other two guys while my boyfriend and I fooled around that night."

"And is that it?" pushed Giselle.

"The last time was all with girls, at an all lesbian birthday party, with Jennifer. Every girl was either in a monogamous relationship, like us, or otherwise not interested. It just wasn't fun, and more than half of the people were not having a good time. By the end everyone just felt naked, and not at all sexy. I again did well and really didn't get close to naked," explained Madeline.

"How about you, Martin?" Giselle asked me.

"Well, in camp when I was a kid we played a couple of times just to embarrass each other. But we were so young you wouldn't even call it homosexual - just boys trying to humiliate each other. Once, in college, I played a game with a mixed crowd. To start, there were a million rules disputes. Finally, when we settled on the rules, I realized I was in a terrible position. I hadn't expected to play, and I had very few garments on. I was invited to play at the last moment, and I was sort of the odd guy out, as everyone else was coupled. So basically I was the first person naked, losing a few quick games very rapidly, and nothing good happened for me except watching some other people have very hot times."

"You could have masturbated", Madeline said dryly.

"I don't think it would have been appropriate," I replied, clinically. "Although I'm sure I was just way too self-conscious at the time." I shrugged. "Maybe now I'd be different. But I just don't think strip poker is a very well thought out game. Not every piece of clothing is worth the same to someone, and of course it's stupid to have people arbitrarily starting a game with different amounts of clothing. Finally, just having the losers of a round take something off just doesn't make sense. There's no incremental betting, no excitement – it's not poker."

"It does have the status as the classic sexy party game," said Madeline.

"How about you Giselle?" asked Madeline. It was funny having Madeline ask us because as willing as my wife was to ask Madeline about her strip poker experiences, we had never asked each other and would probably be a little reticent, in fear of hearing something we wished we hadn't about the person's past.

Giselle answered, "Only as a kid with other girls, like Martin's experience. But one time, when I was playing monopoly in high school, my friend got my younger brother to forgive her debt when she landed on his hotel on Boardwalk by showing him her tits."