Prologue --
The older I get, the more I find myself obsessing about things. I have these overwhelming compulsions to get things done, instead of putting them off. These things that I would otherwise put off for something to do on a rainy day also have to be accomplished the correct way, with zero tolerance for mistakes. My obsessive behavior would be considered perhaps quaint and eccentric, if it weren't for the fact that I try to inflict my perceptions on everyone else. Figuring that people around me are simply blind to the monumental significance of such things as paying bills, doing the laundry, preparing for retirement, etc., its my duty to keep them aware. Of course, no one really takes me seriously. They appease me the best they can and try to avoid my wrath. This avoidance, in itself, is enough to make me crazy to the point that I usually end up doing the chores or tasks myself. As a control freak, by nature, this is a role I feel comfortable with.
So what do my compulsive foibles have to do with my sex life, you ask? Well, let me tell you. The burden of carrying the weight of my little world is a heavy one. In my constant battle to keep things all the plates spinning at once, I needed a place in my psyche to relax and let everything go. My self-imposed tensions would have eaten me alive, if I didn't have a haven of sexual bliss as a refuge. Some women use exercise bikes, yoga or social clubs to relieve anxieties. My preferred method of using sexual stimuli not only works for me, but it has definitely had a positive effect on our marriage.
Conditioned as the proper and conservative wife in my day-to-day routines; I had to learn to let loose and appreciate my lustful nature as well. This Jekyll & Hyde approach has developed into a real turnon, not only for me, but for my husband too. Nothing gets my juices flowing more than to break away from my politically correct self and become a wanton slut. Every husband wants his wife to be a little whorish from time to time, so why not go with the flow? As long as no one gets hurt -no harm, no foul! Once we got past the jealousy factor, the open marriage concept was delightful. A 'Bob, Ted, Carol & Alice' approach to swapping never did appeal to me. However, after thirty years of marriage, there is something to be said about having fun on the spur (or sperm) of the moment.
* * * * *
The mate swapping episode Donny and I had with my brother and his wife (see "Trading Home Videos"), that was meant to be a singular occasion, turned into more than a one-night-affair. The four of us started hanging out together on a more regular basis, and my relationship with Debbie developed into a closeness I had never experienced, even with my sisters. We shared intimacies about our past lovers and confided in each other about what turned us on, etc. Before long, we even took on some of each other's traits. She became more refined with her flirting skills and I adopted a more direct approach to eroticism. Though neither one of us are lesbian; we both know what really arouses each other, so a certain amount of teasing and titillation was fun.
One particular afternoon of shopping the two us decided to take a break and go to a day spa. Debbie knew of a place across town offering a "Working Woman's Special"; that sounded like a nice diversion.
"I have to run an errand for Rudy later. But, if you want, we can go now?" Debbie offered.
"A couple of hours of self-absorption seems like just what the doctor ordered. Let's go!" I winked.
The place was quite a swanky salon, with all the fancy trimmings. An army of female attendants in short white uniforms scurried from one room to the next, catering to their clients. Our assigned attendant, a rather tall woman named Nancy, ushered us through a maze of rituals guaranteed to make us look ten to twenty years younger. Debbie mentioned that she heard one of the girls refer to our attendant as Big Nancy The Dyke. After hearing that, I kept a safe distance from her. Undergoing the entire regiment of skin treatments, massages and electro-whatever, we certainly felt younger. I guess that's really what you pay for at these female pleasure havens anyway. Our tall attendant let the two of us finally retreat to a warm shallow bathing pool for some aromatherapy.
"Is this great, or what?" Debbie laughed and cast aside her robe.
"You bet. I don't think I've ever been so relaxed, or clean for that matter," I added.
"I know what you mean, Barb. I could easily make this part of my weekly routine," she smiled, and reached over for a tube of shaving cream.
As we continued to revel in our luxurious bath, she started to shave her pussy. This was something I'd never done, so I was mildly interested in watching her technique. She saw me watching.
"Suppose you wonder why I do this? See, Rudy likes me clean-shaven. Actually, I'm kind of used to it, by now," she admitted.
"I've never done that. Maybe Donny would like it too. What do you think?"
"There's only one way to find out, girl. Here, I'll do you," she remarked eagerly, and helped me out of my robe.
With the two of us stark naked, she quickly swung my legs open. Before I had a chance to react, she had me sit on the pool's edge and lathered up my pussy. Ever so gently, she shaved off what little bit of hair I had on my abdomen. When she started to shave around my pussy I felt the strangest tingling sensation and let out a little moan. Placing two of her fingertips just inside my pussy lips, she finished a few final razor strokes. Laying the razor down with one hand, she kept her fingers inside me.
"Ummmm, nice and smooth now, and a little creamy," she whispered, as her fingers massaged my clit.
"Think Donny will like me like this?" I asked, breathing harder.
"Gosh Barb, I don't know. Let's see if it passes the taste test, shall we?" Said Debbie, stepping out of the pool and kneeling next to me.
She pulled my legs from the pool, put one on either side of her and made me lay down.
"Hey, wait a minute Deb. We can't be doing this...here! People will see us and think we're queer," I said, nervously looking around for spying eyes.
"Nonsense Barb, there's nobody here. And, who gives a shit what THEY think anyway? You and I know it's all in fun," she purred and leaned over to bring her face to my newly shaven crotch.
Parting my pink lips with both hands, her tongue immediately went to work on my clit. The new sensation of her lips and tongue on my bare pussy was so erotic. Soon I was whimpering and moaning, while she inserted two, no three fingers in my pussy. Debbie delighted in my reaction and started inching her little hand inside my vagina. She knew I wouldn't stop her. I couldn't conceal the fact that it felt so good to have a big cock (I mean a big... something) inside my pussy. Soon, her forearm was so deep inside me, I could feel her tiny fist against my cervix. She elevated her arm against my clit and I had a quick orgasm.
Coming back to my senses, "Oh God, Debbie stop it! We can't be doing this! But, God, I sure could use a cock in me," I admitted.
"Well, will this do?" Said a low sultry voice from above.
"OH SHIT!" I yelled and grabbed a towel.
Trying to cover as much of myself as possible with the skimpy bath towel, I stared up at Big Nancy, the Dyke. From the floor, this brunette amazon looked to be twelve feet tall. She towered over us, smiled and slapped a huge rubber dildo into the palm of her hand. Nervously, I tried to get Debbie's arm out of me, with little success. She was noticeably distracted and enamored with Nancy's dildo.
"Why, I had no idea you two ladies were...gay?" Said the striking amazon, as she undid the buttons on her tight fitting frock.
"We're NOT gay!" We were just..." I started then stopped, in awe of her exposed body.
