Thanks to everyone for their enthusiastic responses to the first two episodes of my story!
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We had been married less than six months and already my husband Mike had begun to express his desire to expand our horizons sexually, and had begun to manipulate me toward that end.
The last installment of my story found me in a seedy adult movie theatre with a stranger's dick in my hand. It hadn't occurred to me how unlikely it would be that I would have found myself in such a situation out of the blue. It wouldn't be long before I was to find out that it was nothing like the random occurrence it had been originally been made out to be.
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1. Meeting other people.
After that night in the porn theatre, when I had gone down on my husband under the watchful eye of the guy sitting behind us, Mike kept telling me how much it turned him on to have someone watch him getting head from me.
A return visit to the theatre found Mike having us change our seats so that in the end we were sitting beside a middle aged couple. The end result of that was Mike getting jerked off by the woman, and then him telling me to do the same to the guy.
It hurt me to think that I wasn't enough to keep Mike happy, and it also bothered me that it always seemed that whatever Mike told me to do, I did. It was like I had no say in anything, or any backbone to stand up for myself either. Only in looking back now do I know that while maybe I was a victim of sorts, I certainly was a willing one as well.
One evening when Mike came home from work, he announced that we were going to go out for a drink. When I asked him where, and more importantly where we were going to get the money for this, he told me not to worry. He had everything all planned out.
Before we went, Mike insisted on dressing me, picking out a pink tank top that was almost sheer. Since it was always preferred that I not wear a bra, this allowed my droopy little cones to be utterly exposed to the world. If you didn't care to look at them through the almost non-existant fabric, you could pretty much see everything from the side, where the baggy arm holes showed just about everything that was there.
"Mike, I can't go out in public like this," I complained. "I might as well not be wearing anything at all."
"You can do that too," Mike said as he nibbled my neck. "Don't worry, we aren't going out to a bar or anything."
The destination was going to remain a secret however, and I dutifully got into the car and rode along until we reached a suburb of Utica, and into a middle class neighborhood with manicured lawns. Not Beverly Hills or anything, but nothing like where we were living, or any of our friends for that matter.
"Who lives here?" I asked as Mike pulled into the driveway.
"People," Mike said in his informative manner. "Here."
Mike handed me a half of a joint, which had become sort of a warning that there was going to be something happening that I might not be crazy about. An occassion that would go better with me in a mellow mood and even more agreeable than usual. I was aware of this even then, and my reaction was always the same. Inhale and smile.
After we finished the joint we exited our vehicle of the month, a rusted out Javelin that was living on borrowed time, and walked to the door.
"Gonna be a surprise, huh Mike?" I said as he rang the bell.
"Oh, we know them," Mike assured me. "Just be cool, and don't make me look bad in front of these people."
That was Mike's catch phrase, the "don't make me look bad" that I had heard often in the past, and was destined to hear many more times in the future.
When the door opened and the tall platinum blonde woman smiled and let us in, I realized that Mike had been right. We knew them alright, even though I had never seen their faces before. The couple from the theatre.
2. Bernie and Daphne.
"So glad you could make it!" the woman gushed as she kissed Mike on the cheek and then came over to me.
"Daphne, this is my wife Becky. I know you two met a little bit last week" Mike announced with a leer and a wink that gave me the creeps.
"Oooh honey, you look even nicer in the light," Daphne cracked as I got a kiss as well.
I put on a smile, or at least a reasonable facsimile of one, and stood there nervously while Daphne stared at my chest. The phrase undressing me with her eyes might have been appropriate were it not for the fact that my skimpy blouse made that unnecessary.
We were joined by Daphne's husband Bernie, who looked like your average middle-aged used car salesman. A short guy with a medium build who was balding ungracefully, he shook Mike's hand and gave me a kiss on the cheek. As I looked at him, and as he stared at me with as much interest as his wife did, I couldn't think of anything except the fact that I had jerked this guy off the week before.
Mike and I were herded into the basement, where there was a little bar in the corner. It was all done in black formica with white flecks, and there were mirrors no matter where you turned in the little room. Mirrors with designs, beer advertisement mirrors, you name it. In every one I looked into, I saw the same image. A scared teenaged girl who didn't have a clue as to what was going on.
The drinks kept getting poured, and Mike pulled out a joint (a fresh one this time, undoubtedly to impress our new-found friends) which made Daphne and Bernie ooh and ahh! They had music playing in the background, something along the lines of Herb Alpert, as we passed the weed around.
Bernie and Daphne had been all over me in an indirect way, with a lot of arm touching and shoulder rubbing, and with the flowing of booze and herb, I was now getting a lot of accidental brushing against my breasts. It had to be accidental for them to be able to make the consistant contact with the little critters that they managed.
"What is going on here Mike?" I asked when the couple slipped out of earshot.
"It's a party!" my husband Mike said enthusiastically. "These guys are swingers. Ain't this place great? We should fix up one of our spare rooms like this!"
The thought of trying to wedge four people into one of those spare rooms along with a bar and chairs made for a comical image in my mind, but I was too nervous to laugh.
"I want to know what's going on," I told Mike with about as much authority in my voice that I could muster.
"You know, Becky," Mike whispered. "Stuff like we did in the theatre with them, only a little more... you know, intimate."
"Don't tell me you expect me to screw this guy!"
"Screw? Uhhh, no," Mike said, a little taken aback by my sudden spunk, and I should have noticed then what a little backbone could do.
"What then?"
"You know, like we'll get comfortable and we could do stuff. Other stuff," Mike said. "You know, like we did in the theatre and maybe some oral stuff. Daphne really wants me bad and I know that Bernie thinks you are sexy as hell."
"I'm not screwing him or anybody else, and she isn't screwing you!"
"Okay, you win. Not screwing, but everything else then," Mike said as the couple came back with a bottle of champagne. "Just don't you dare make me look bad in front of these people."
They popped the cork of the cheap bubbly, and while Daphne made small talk to me, I saw Mike and Bernie huddled in the corner talking while glancing over in my direction.
"Becky, you're a really lucky lady with a stud like Mike to take care of you," Daphne said as her fingers slid over my arm, causing the hair on my forearms to stand up and goose bumps to form. "He's lucky too, because you are so cute I can't stand it. Cute enough to eat, if you know what I mean?"
"Becky is a doll," her husband added as he and Mike snuck back up on us. "A living doll."
"I was just telling Becky how lucky she was to have a stud like Mike around the house to keep her satisfied," Daphne said as she looked over at Mike, who was beaming like he had just knighted or something.
"Oh yeah, Mike's great," I said with as much bounce in my voice as I could muster.
"How big is that cock I tried to hold in my hand last week Becky? Daphne cooed.
"Nine and a half inches," Mike and I said simultaneously, Mike with incredible excitement and me blankly, and how I knew the length was is a story in itself.
He had me measure it one night, after he claimed that he read the average cock was about six inches long hard. I didn't know that Mike was much for reading, but figured that if he was going to crack open a book, it would be about sex.
So there I was in bed with Mike and a ruler after getting him hard in preparation for this event. I dutifully held the stick up against his cock and read out the results.
"Eight and a quarter inches!" I announced to him, expecting him to start gloating on the news.
"Bullshit!" Mike proclaimed and proceeded to tell me that I was measuring it all wrong. Fucking up again, as usual.
