I had stayed two nights at Herb and Sherri's Louisiana Bayou home. To my astonishment and pleasure, the sexual services of Sherri had been given to me.
Still in my mid-20's, it had never occurred to me that a man would willingly surrender his wife to another man. Oh, I knew well about swinging, and cheating wives, but not about what we today call a Hotwife... a woman who has sex with other men with her husband's knowledge and permission.
I had met the two in a small town called Houma, west of New Orleans, at an Arcadian bar and dance hall, and been invited...well more like kidnapped...to their home in a small fishing village nearby.
Herb left to go fishing before dawn. Sherri came in with coffee long after the sun was up, and proceeded to make certain I knew that sharing their home meant sharing her.
She was beautiful. Small, perfectly formed, she had a delightful, sparkling personality.
Sherri was happy to rollick in the bed with me, joyful and totally unrestrained in lovemaking. But, of course, it was not love...she loved one man, but that man followed a seldom-discussed tradition of hospitality. She had been given to many friends of her husband, but never before to a stranger.
Not only was she pretty, highly sexual and very bright, Sherri was a great cook. I got to enjoy a variety of meals, all of them great.
Herb was a shrimper. His boat docked only a few yards from his front door. But he also did some trapping of animals, a bit of hunting...mostly for his own table ....and his fishing would extend to oysters and fish when the supply of shrimp was low.
He and I talked frequently in the early evening, and he told me the advent of the gas and petroleum industry had changed things around the bayou country.
"Got two brothers working over at the refinery," he said. "Make a hellva lot more money than me. Built themselves new fancy homes. And I don't see as they are all that much happier."
After my second night there, and one full day of playing with Sherri, I figured it might be time to move on, but the morning was again spent with me naked and her as well, most of the time.
It was the second day Sherri and I played, and at my rather youthful age I was as randy as could be. Sherri welcomed every chance to touch and feel...and after the very first time, when she had sucked me to completion...every time we touched, we wound up fucking.
When Herb got home in the afternoon, I began to give my thanks and move on. Herb stopped me in my tracks.
"You got so much that's dammed important you gotta leave?"
I said no, but expressed a desire not to overstay my welcome.
Herb turned to his wife.
"Sherri, you want him to stay a couple more days?"
She looked first surprised, then her expression changed to a broad smile.
"I'll say!"
"Settled then." Herb said briskly. "Now what's for dinner?"
It being early summer, dinner was done before dark.
Herb invited me to take a walk, and began to tell me about the house.
"My granddad built this place with his own hands. 'Course he had help from the other men."
The structure was a wooden frame, raised off the ground by about four feet.
I suggested that was because of high water. Herb nodded, but continued. "Yup, but it also keeps the wood dry. All the ground around here is moist all the time, except for a drought time. And it helps keep insects and things from getting in."
Herb was especially proud of the fact that his house was bigger than some others nearby. His grandparents had several children, and as the family grew, so did the house.
A second floor had been added, and a front porch, with the roof continuing out over the porch.
The windows were spacious and open....really open. There was no glass, just shutters to close if the temperature dropped.
The lighting was kerosene lamps. There was no electricity. Or rather, they were not tied to the grid. A small generator was used, mostly to power the television, which was already old at that time.
In front of me, Sherri and Herb spoke English, with the occasional French-tinged word thrown in. But when they were alone in their bedroom, I could hear what I took to be Cajun.
Herb explained a bit about his fishing...mostly that it was "damn hard work."
We had crawfish that night, and I learned to "suck the head." Once you got used to it, the taste was delicious, although considerably less spicy than I had always believed Cajun cooking would be.
Back inside, Herb stood in thought for a few moments, then reached for a jacket from a peg on the wall.
"I'm headed over to Chuck's," he said to Sherri. "Gonna help him with some stuff. I won't be back 'til morning."
And with that he was out the door.
I was dumbstruck. He was leaving Sherri and I to spend the night together, to play sexually again, this time until we feel asleep.
Sherri looked at me, then walked toward me, threw her arms around me and kissed me deeply.
Already my cock was rising.
Without backing away, her mouth next to my ear, she said in a soft voice: "He gave me to you for the night."
The rule had always been that no matter how often he shared her with other men, when he was home, all her attention, sexual and otherwise, was to be on him.
"He has never gone away for the whole night," Sherri said.
Her body was pressed close to mine. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss me again, and reached down with her hand to rub against my crotch. I was hard now...really hard.
She rubbed and kissed, passionately, then turned and led me to the bedroom...my bedroom, not theirs.
It took only moments for her to disrobe, since she wore no underwear.
I stood transfixed, once again stunned by her beauty.
She moved toward me, pushed me down on the bed still clothed, and worked my zipper down, carefully.
