My husband Mike, after claiming that I promised to let him find me another girl to have sex with, went at his self-appointed task with his typical enthusiasm.
Amazingly, he managed to succeed. This at least showed me that I wasn't the only one who would do anything he asked. I always thought that he had some sort of power that enabled him to propose the most outlandish things to people and they would actually do them. I was only kidding when I thought that, but I saw it happen too many times with people with a lot more on the ball than me to totally dismiss it.
It's 1974 in a town on the outskirts of Utica, New York, and we haven't been married a year yet.
* * * * * * * * *
1. Mike the talent scout.
"There she is!" Mike practically yelled in my ear as he poked through the venetian blinds at the figure that was helping the old lady from next door into her car.
"I can't see," I complained as I struggled to see through the window pane that had been made foggy by our breath.
Mike to the rescue. He forced his big paw through the shades and swiped at the glass to clear the fog and the blinds went swaying wildly, breaking the first rule of urban snooping. Don't make it obvious. Luckily the weather was so bad visibility was lousy, and the girl had her hands full with the old woman besides.
"This is so fucking fantastic!" Mike said as he squeezed me with the big hand that was draped over my shoulders. "I'm going crazy."
On that point we were in full agreement, because Mike was a loon. This quest of his to find a girl for me to make love to had gone on for over a month, and his every thought seemed to be based on that.
"How about her?" Mike would say if we passed a woman in the store that met his qualifications, and I would be forced to give him my appraisal of the girl.
I would also be quizzed on my opinions of the actresses in the porn movies on our trips to the 'Petit Cinema', although with the coming of winter our visits had become less frequent. The wind that whistled into the building froze everything from the knees down, and it must have been damn cold for Mike to pass on going.
After the girl got the old woman inside, Mike went through his dresser and pulled out his high school yearbook, rifling through the pages until he found her.
"There she is," Mike crowed. "Suzanne March! Not bad, is she?"
The picture of a rather sullen young girl with black hair posed in the traditional manner for her senior picture did nothing for me one way or the other, but more importantly to Mike, I didn't recognize her.
"C'mon Becky, you have to remember her! Suzanne March!" Mike insisted.
"Mike, I never heard of any Suzanne March and she doesn't look any more familiar to me no matter how loudly you yell her name in my ear," I said. "Besides, she was a year ahead of you and you were two years ahead of me."
I didn't mention the fact that I was rarely in school myself when I actually was supposed to be. Sophomore girls didn't hang around with senior girls as a general rule either, and more importantly I wasn't looking for girls back then either.
"Besides, you said that she went to BOCES with you," I added, Mike having told me of her taking auto mechanics class with her. This would have removed her from the building for much of the time and made it even more unlikely that we would ever have met.
"She remembers you!" Mike said. "I mentioned your name and her eyes lit up."
"So what have you gotten me involved in now?" I asked with the enthusiasm of someone going to the electric chair.
"I got to talking to her and I asked her if she wanted to party with us, and she said yes," Mike said.
"Party?"
"She knew what I was talking about, believe me," Mike assured me. "She's a lezzie, Becky. It was all over the school. So after I mentioned your name she perked right up, and before you know it, it's party time!"
Before she knew it as well, I thought to myself as I tried to imagine what the conversation was like.
"What did you say?" I finally asked Mike, unable to stand the suspense. "Something like, hey you want to go down on my wife?"
"Hell no Becky," Mike said. "I used my charm and I was very subtle about it."
That got a chuckle out of me, as Mike's idea of subtle still had all the look of a bull in a china shop.
"Tonight Becky," Mike breathed in my ear, and a chill went down my spine. "How about a little something to help take the edge off, babe?"
Mike's erection was sticking out the opening of his pajamas, and my hand was drawn to the swollen member like a magnet to steel. I stroked Mike's cock a couple of times before kneeling before him and tugging the bottoms down.
"Arrrghhh!" Mike moaned as I began to slide my mouth up and down his cock, working his pendulous nut sack with my hand as I went further down the shaft.
I heard the blinds rattle as he apparently looked for our future party guest to provide visual accompaniment to my activity. Having no luck, he concentrated on guiding my head up and down and giving me encouragement.
"Awwwww! That's it babe," Mike groaned as my nose burrowed into his pubes. "Take it all babe. Take that big cock all the way down. Oh man, it is going to be so hot seeing you with her."
"What's she like?" I asked, extracting him from my mouth for a second before diving back down on him.
"Oooooh man," Mike sighed as I went down the length of him. "About your height, maybe a little taller. Black hair cut kinda short... oh my god, slow down... gonna cum. Big tits.. real big ones... geez!"
As I felt Mike's orgasm surge through him and his cum squirt powerfully into my tongue and down my throat, I realized that Mike had managed to do it. He found his own Kay Parker for me to perform with.
2. Awkward beginnings.
Mike's party preparations consisted of getting a case of beer and some chips, and I assumed buying some weed. It disturbed me that we seemed to have little or no money to put away for the future, but always managed to find the money for grass. Having said that, I have to add that when the joint got fired up I was always ready and willing to partake.
Mike was also involved in selecting my wardrobe for the evening, and when he "suggested" what I should wear, I thought it was a tad strange.
"Mike, it's winter for cryin' out loud!" I said as I held up the bright orange tank top and little white shorts. "You've got me dressed like it's Beercan Beach in August!"
"It's gonna be a theme party, so you'll be cool," Mike assured me. "I told Suzanne that we would be having a pajama party."
"Theme party? Pajamas? Where do you come up with this stuff?" I said in amazement. "You think this girl is going to waltz over in her jammies to drink beer and smoke dope with us?"
"You wait and see," Mike said with confidence. "This is going to be so fucking cool you won't believe it."
"Am I to assume that you are going to be involved in this in some way?" I asked, dreading hearing that my husband would be making love, or as he put it the last time with Daphne, fucking this Suzanne with me being forced to watch. Well, not forced but you know what I mean.
"Er... no, I don't think so. She says she's not into guys," Mike said rather sheepishly. "But I can watch!" he added with glee.
"How do you find all this crap out about people?" I said while shaking my head in reluctant admiration.
"I ask them," Mike simply said while shrugging his shoulders.
"Well, you should work for the CIA, because you get more out of people in five minutes of conversation than they get in a month of interrogation."
"People are usually dying to spill their guts but they never get asked," Mike said. "They fart around and dance around the subject they really want to know about and it takes forever that way. Fuck that! I just ask what I want to know, and usually they open right up."
"And you love to listen," I noted.
"I love to listen, and watch," Mike added with a twinkle in his eye that make me shudder as I went off to the shower.
The warm spray helped me relax a little bit, and I was able to shave my legs without getting an artery. I was busy lathering up my underarms when Mike barged into the bathroom to take a leak, and I rolled my eyes as I heard him splashing away. I know we only had one bathroom, but there was no such thing as privacy with Mike around.
"Let's see how you're doin' there babe," MIke said as he put his arm around my hip and bent around me to inspect my freshly shaven underarm. "Mmmm.... nice. Suzanne will like this. Maybe she'll do this to you."
With that Mike began kissing and licking me there, sending shivers throughout my body as he nibbled away.
"Mike, I want to get done in here at some point, and that won't happen if you keep doing that."
"Nothing wrong with that Becky," Mike said. "Maybe a quickie before she gets here?"
I managed to decline and get Mike out of the bathroom so I could finish up. As goofy and as annoying as Mike could usually be, he always had a way about him, as well as an uncanny ability to push the right buttons either by words or actions. The result usually being me finding myself in a situation like the one I was in at that time.
When the clock struck seven, we were in our pajamas. Mike in his baggy tan flannels and me in my little orange tank top and white shorts. Our party favors were set out, consisting of a bag of chips dumped into a bowl and a couple of joints sitting on the coffee table.
Our occasional stereo was cranking out the Beach Boys, while my Jefferson Airplane remained perched and waiting above it. I called it our occasional stereo because the one speaker would drop out quite frequently, leaving us with some strange sounding music until Mike was able to jiggle the wires around to get it back in order.
