After John, my husband had persuaded me to sleep with, well actually be fucked by, a stranger we had both hoped things would improve between us. They didn't and if anything, apart from sex, they got worse.
The sex I am talking about was not just with him, as we did it most nights, but also with others. I had been well-behaved for most of the twenty-plus years we had been married and although he had strayed a few times, I'd forgiven him. Several times he had suggested we should join a swinging club but I had refused. Then he tried another tack. He asked me to let him see me with another guy.
At first, I had thought it would be with someone I knew but it wasn't, he found a stranger, Rob, a twenty-four-year-old golf pro who was delicious and, in an afternoon and evening at a hotel at Stansted airport he fucked me four or five times as John watched. It really was a wonderful time.
So wonderful that when John went off to Australia just before Rob went to live and work in Dubai, he and I met and we had sex in my house five or six days out of ten.
"God you young men really are something aren't you," I said getting up naked from the bed to make a cup of tea. "I really don't know how I'll manage when you've gone," I smiled as he slid his hand between my legs and rubbed my wetness almost causing me to drop the mugs of tea.
"I could tell you," he muttered kissing my tummy and cupping one of my D cup boobs.
"Could you now?" I asked handing him his tea and pushing my rimless glasses back into place.
"Yes, if you promise not to tell anyone."
"Of course not," I replied fluffing my shortish blonde hair back into position as I sat beside him.
"Then let me simply say, I have a friend. Ask more and I will tell, keep silent and I will too.
And that's how for the next few months I was 'royally serviced' by another delicious and wonderfully energetic twenty-two years-old assistant golf pro.
*
I was lying on my front on the king-size bed. I was naked and my legs were wide open. My husband was lying on my back with his cock buried deep in me. He was fucking me as he had been for some time. That was something we both enjoyed, long languid fucks that sometimes lasted an hour or more. He pushed hard, positioning his cock as far into me as he could and then held it there, rigid and still. As he did that he reached round my curvy body and with his right hand found one of my full, what he called, luscious tits which he squeezed and then pinched the erect nipple. The other hand slid down the front of my body to find my clit. He found it quite easily, but then he should as he'd been using it for over twenty years. I lifted up a little, grunted and jerked my torso putting a pressure on his cock.
Just as he started to fuck me, he grunted.
"Tell me again, how was it with Rob?"
Not wishing to sound too pleased I muttered. "Yeah, it was ok, not bad."
"Good. Would you do it again?"
"With him?"
"Or another bloke?"
"Haven't you seen enough?" I asked actually excited at the idea if it was a nice young guy like Rob.
"Not really as now I want to see you with another woman."
Naturally I refused point blank. But just as he had with Rob, he persisted.
He knew that at uni. I had messed around with other girls and I had told him that a few times in the early nineties, just before I met him, I had played around at clubs in London. I see either of these as being signs of my sexuality and I didn't look on myself as being bisexual and certainly not lesbian; I just liked sex!
"So how do you envisage it going?" I asked a while later as I lay naked beside him.
"A bit like it did with Rob, I guess."
"What at a hotel somewhere?" I asked beginning to get a little excited at the idea, though still far from being agreeable to it.
Eventually though after a long two- or three-month campaign I became worn down and agreed. John had always been able to get around me and persuade me to do his bidding in such things, including posing for him to take semi and fully nude photos. For most of our marriage until recently I had been 'putty in his hands.' However, since Rob, things had changed and I had become a far more independent woman.
"Who though?" I asked desperately hoping we'd be unable to think of anyone.
He shocked me by replying. "I thought you might know someone at your golf or tennis clubs or at one of those fancy ad agencies."
Although I did know a couple of lesbian women, I didn't feel at all inclined either, to admit that to him or, agree to approach them so things on that front went dead for a while.
"Kelly down the pub," he said mentioning a girl that sometimes joined us at the pub we went to most Wednesday evenings. Kelly was an actress who often entertained us with outrageous tales of the goings on behind the scenes and after hours at the theatres and TV studios where she worked. She seemed to have no inhibitions and talked openly about her sexual exploits giving very strong hints that she might well be bi.
"Who the hell in show biz knows what the fuck they are," she'd once said to a group of us.
A few years younger than me, probably early forties but almost certainly not the youthful age she said she was, she was single but claimed to have had a host of partners.' We had quite different figures. Whereas she was tall, around 5 feet nine, I was about average at 5' 6". She had a dancer's figure with long legs, a very supple and slender body, a rounded, full bum and small boobs, B cup at most, whereas I was sturdier and curvier with D going on DD cup boobs. She was quite pretty but certainly no beauty in my eyes as she had a rather hard looking face with quite thin lips and small eyes. Despite being an actor, as modern life insists we sexually neutralise such thespians, she was quite self-effacing once remarking. 'Modern stage and film make-up makes anyone beautiful.' Usually, she wore her longish brunette, probably dyed, hair down with a slight frizz to the tresses and that together with her lithe, long-legged figure made her look dramatic and glamorous and, I thought, fairly available. A feature of her that the single or, at least unaccompanied, males in the pub seemed to believe as well for she really was the honey pot around which the bees gathered. Despite this, I had never heard any rumours in the village about her going with anyone from nearby but several times she was seen in local restaurants with men and women who presumably stayed at her flat overnight. Hence there was a fair amount of goodhearted speculation about her sexuality and sexual habits.
