A Secret Place

It has been over two years now since we have done anything "weird." I use this word, "weird," the way Jen uses it. She has a way with words, but the way she describes it, "weird," seems not so accurate to me now. At that time, at that moment, she did not think it "weird," but instead the most erotic and liberating and honest event of her life. At that moment, it is her, laying on her back, as a man, not her husband, labors on top of her, his penis plunging deeply in and out of her sex. At that moment, she is sighing and crying out like never before, her eyes closed tightly, her head turned, her lips frozen in an "O" of pure sexual delight and freedom. And at that moment, her husband, observing quietly from the shadows of the darkened room, is staring transfixed and hard as his friend heaves and pounds himself into her, his thrusts moving through her body, her breath hot and fast with his in rhythm with the carnal act...

"You would let another man put his penis into me?!" Jen asked. Her voice was thick with curiosity and breathless with anticipation.

"Well, yes..., I think," I replied. We were on our way back home from Oakley, an hour-long drive from our home in Easton.

Silence. Then she spoke quietly, "What do you mean, you 'think'?"

I peered for her a moment, and put my eyes back on the darkened roadway. "I 'think' I would get turned on by it, but it could only be with the right person, you know..."

Impatiently, she cut me off, "...No, I don't know; why don't you say what you mean?! You always want to talk around things."

"Okay.., fine. I would like, sometime, someday, to watch you have sex with a guy."

"Really?" There was a long pause as the engine droned. "Anything else?" Her voice was steady and impassive. I couldn't read her very well when she spoke like that and she knew it.

"Else?...no, I think that would be enough." I paused and thought, then I went on, "Well, I would probably want to get in on the action myself at some point." I smiled in the dark. I knew she was envisioning that scene as I put it to her. She liked it. She wanted to go to that place. She just needed to find the guts to admit it to herself and then to me.

"You don't mean you want to fuck the other guy!!?"

"No!" I gave her a look like I smelled something horrible. "Jen, we have been together for, what, ten years now?" She nodded. "Have you ever thought I was gay or bi or anything like that?"

"Um, no."

"Okay. So my thing is just that...voyeur...to see you make it with a guy. Maybe we both do you at the same time. See? It is all about you . Your pleasure. I will not have sex with him. Period!" Jen pondered this for a few minutes. The road hummed by under our wheels and the scenery turned mountainous and textured as we approached town.

"Alan, you are very, very strange!" Jen said lightly as we sailed through the night. We drove on in silence, each with the same, unlikely scene turning around in our mind. "So..." she whispered, "Who's the lucky guy?"

I had met Eric a few years earlier. He and I had hit it off from the beginning. I was taking some classes at a small private college in Oakley, a town about 75 miles from Easton, where we lived. For the first year, I was a good little boy and drove the two-hour round trip a few times a week. It was difficult, but necessary. I needed that higher degree, that ticket, to find a better job. Occasionally, I would stop by "Shotz' Pub" on my way out of town and have a cold one. Eric was the bartender. We had some stuff in common--our age, football, pool, beer, an eye for the ladies... I felt at ease with him and did not get that annoying, competitive, grating feeling that sometimes comes along with male bonding. Eric was a good guy. An honorable rogue. Even if he thought your girl was hot, which he did, he would always praise her as a perfect woman-virtuous in taking care of her husband's needs-but probably capable of a lot more!. I appreciated that. For extra cash, I started playing music, something I swore I was done with, every Wednesday night at Shotz' Pub. Soon, word got out that there was this barroom piano guy down there and the place became THE spot on Wednesdays. Eric and I became friends and quasi-business partners. The next year, Jen got tired of waiting for me to get home every night, so I rented a small house for us in Oakley. I needed to be at school all week. She got a job working at the local bookstore and I proceeded to go to college and play music. Things were just fine.

But, really, they weren't. Our lovemaking was starting to become more infrequent. And when it came, it was quick and uncaring and unfulfilled--especially for Jen. I tried to make it better, but somehow all the stress and difficulty over money got between us and the sex just didn't work. After I graduated, we moved to her parents' house back in Easton while I was looking for a new job. From then on, there was NO Sex. Every once in a while, she would surprise me at night with a quick blowjob, but if she even imagined her mother could hear us, that was THAT! It got to the point where we would have to leave town just so we could stay at a hotel where we could make a little noise without fear of exposure! I didn't care what her mother thought, but it was important to Jen, and I love her so much that I can tolerate anything as long as it ends with Jen and me happy.

It was on one of these out-of-town trips that we got a little wild one night. Both of us were thoroughly drunk as we stumbled to our room at a Holiday Inn. Inside, we spent little time with foreplay. As I kicked off my shoes and pants, Jen went in the bathroom. I lit a joint, a bad habit from my musician-days, and waited. Jen appeared a minute later in the corner of the room. Let me describe my wife Jen. She is, by all accounts, a knockout. Some people say she favors a young Demi Moore, but I think she has a look all her own--purposeful, dark eyes surrounded by a thoughtful brow, aristocratic nose and expressive, sensuous lips. Her hair is shortish, but cut with striking style, as you would expect from a woman who makes her living making other people's lives beautiful; Jen is a highly-successful interior designer. Her breasts are beautiful, but in an understated way. I always loved the natural curve of them, the way her nipples can rise at the slightest touch of my tongue and finger. The best part is her ass and hips. As a teenager she ran track, and her butt still has a firm, pouty shape. When she goes out, she usually wears clothes that accentuate her ass and hourglass figure. She loves it when men watch her slyly out of the corner of their eyes. She makes sure I know.

As she moved toward me, she brought her hand from behind her back and in it was a medium-size dildo I had given her many years before. She did not use it much these days. I was surprised to see the old boy! Jen had a half-lucid smile on her face as she thrust me on the bed, straddling my body, stroking my hard cock with her naked thigh and locking her lips on mine in a long, wet, pornographic kiss. My hand moved with familiar ease up to her breasts, and then to her ass, softly probing all holes. She moaned as I popped two fingers into her cunt, slipping them easily in and out while grinding my dick against her leg. In a moment, before I could see what she was going to do, she reversed her position on my chest, her ass in front of me as her tongue and hand came down on my cock; I felt the wet, coolness of her mouth and instinctively thrust my hips up. As I did this, I felt her hand grasping for mine. Then I felt the stiffness of the dildo in my palm as her hand guided the thing up and into her pussy. Right in front of my face. I could see what she wanted. I knew what she needed. She needed to feel the thing filling her up as she sucked my dick. She wanted to feel bad, like a bad girl in one of my porno flicks--eyes closed in passion as a long, thick cock plows her cunt from behind while she urgently sucks and licks another fat dick, on her hands and knees, until her own orgasm blasts her from the scene and all that is left is to taste my cum while I keep fucking her with the dildo, taking us both to that secret place. We played this scene on and on, each of us desperate and relieved somehow that it felt so good.

I dragged our suitcases out of the room into blinding daylight. My head throbbed, but I was still playing last night's scene over in my head; Jen, completely engulfed by the moment, crying out as she came and came. Me, drained, but completely turned on and ready to fuck her hard in just minutes. It had been wonderful and both of us could not help but talk and laugh and joke and love each other all the way home.

"I hope you are satisfied," I said with amusement.

"Huh?"

"I hope you are satisfied...I don't think I will be able to top last night for a while."

Jen just smiled enigmatically. "Yeah, well, we'll see..." We drove home.

I didn't know what she meant, but I knew what I wanted it to mean. Years before, I had experimented with an early girlfriend and a guy she and I knew pretty well. It had been a nervous, sometimes threatening, but always powerful experience--we had tried it 3 or 4 times before we grew apart and I moved on. But it had stayed with me. That picture, that scene. He is on top of her, his buttocks contracting. She is oblivious to all, save her own pleasure. In rapture. I watch, and listen, the picture of it a old photographic plate, etched inside my mind. I had told Jen of this tryst after we had been dating for about two years. She listened and said little, but as we went on living together, she would bring it up on occasion-usually to make the point that I tried to control her, and I should lighten up--act more like I used to in the "old days."

So it was, on a cold night in January, that we were returning from a weekend trip where we paid a visit to Eric. He had given a little party at his house. There were three or four other people there--just a bunch of friends drinking and smoking and having fun. Jen spent a lot of time with Eric that night, even going as far as sitting down with him on the couch and massaging his neck. The other people slowly drifted off until it was just us three. I said nothing as Jen prattled on about something. She must have realized that she was in an awkward position, for she suddenly hopped up and announced we were going to go. Eric, I could tell, was a little bit annoyed that this beautiful woman had got him going, but he was the total gentleman and saw us to the door, reminding us hopefully that he would be at home next week and we should stop by again so he could treat us to a nice dinner and a movie, or something. We drove off. As we rode home, the conversation turned and turned, dodging the matter, but always on the edge of it. She brought up the night with the dildo in the hotel. I mentioned my old fling with the girlfriend and the other guy. She asked, again, why I did it and what it was like. Of course, this all ended up with her final question which laid it out in the open.

"So," Jen whispered, "Who's the lucky guy?" It was really only a method, a system we had developed to communicate our ideas to each other. Experienced couples have a way of making the other know that there is no room for doubt or subterfuge. This was ours. I knew she knew who the guy was, it was obvious. But she had to hear me say it. She had to know that this was my idea first, and then she was going to agree. That was the only safe way to do this thing--to go to this secret place together. This act was so sinful, and so tempting, and dangerous. We both had to know for certain.

It came down to me saying this: "Here's what will happen. Sometime, someday, I am not sure when, we will be at Eric's house. We will probably be drinking and partying and I will go to bed. You will follow me. But as you come in, you and I will only talk for a while. Then, later, you will return to Eric as he lays in bed, and you will suck him, and fuck him, and be as dirty as you want. You will not worry about me. You will act as if you are alone with him and you will do everything freely with him. I will be nearby, watching. Later, I may or may not participate. That will only happen if it happens. My only condition is that, at the end of the sex, the end of the party, you return to my bed and wake the next day in my arms." She gazed at me thoughtfully, started to say something, but then stopped, and nodded "yes" emphatically, sealing the deal before I changed my mind. Neither of us slept much the next few nights and there wasn't one day I didn't feel a knot in my stomach anticipating the culmination of the events we had set into motion. I could not stand to wait very long.

Events sometimes have a way of directing themselves. Exactly one week after Eric's party, it was pay-day for me. I had some fun money. Then some people called me from Oakley. They would pay me a good sum to play a party on Saturday. Last-minute thing. Jen and I found ourselves travelling to Oakley to spend Friday night on the town with Eric. We did not discuss our "plan," but the tension was palpable and our conversation was quiet and undirected, like we each had a big test coming up, and we had to concentrate.

The night commenced early. We hit happy hour at one place, had dinner and drinks at the next, and ended up at a loud disco-type joint where we were three drunken friends laughing at the geeky college kids dancing, sometimes joining in. It was true reverie and whenever I kissed Jen, she kissed me back, hard and urgent, almost like that night in the hotel. And yes, she danced with Eric. But she did not lose her mind and do anything outrageous on the dance floor. She is, and will always be, a woman of class; poised and perfect. As we exited the smokey chaos of last call, Jen walked a little unsteadily between us, her arms entwined with her two "dates." I hailed a cab for Eric's home.

Inside the house, our party continued. He produced some pot and we sat tightly on the couch, Jen between us, smoking and drinking Russian vodka. At one point I noticed Jen's hand resting lightly on Eric's knee. He was watching me watch her and he had a little gleam in his eye like an 8-year-old with a new toy. And he smiled at me, making me laugh. We all laughed. And then, I knew it was time. Standing, I said goodnight and stumbled off to bed. Jen looked me right in the eye and said, "I want to finish my drink. I'll be in in just a minute." In my inebriated state, that minute seemed like a lot longer, and I began to think that she was going to chicken out, or just go ahead and start without me. Just as I was ready to roll off the bed and sneak back into the living room, Jen appeared in the doorway. She came over to the bed, stripped her clothes and climbed inside with me. I was hard as a rock and could barely contain my urgency.

"You are so hard!" she exclaimed with genuine surprise. I felt my body twitching with involuntary spasms, speaking to an excitement that I had not experienced since my teenage days. Jen laughed and stroked me on the chest, kissing my neck and gently pulling my cock with her other hand. "You are going to explode, aren't you?"

"Uh,uh-huh." I moaned. She said nothing else, continuing to slide her hand up and down my penis. She was right about the exploding part. I came in a few seconds, my cum running down her hand and onto my thigh. I felt my body relax, just a little, but enough that I could at least think straight again. Jen lay next to me, wiping me daintily with a couple of Kleenex. The light coming through the venetian shades played shadows across the bed and onto her face. She looked up, her eyes invisible in the dark, her lips wet and full. "What do you want me to do?" she said softly with a little evil smile, her hand still on my cock. Then, before I could even think, the words came, just like my semen, moments earlier.

"You should go."

I watched her with a mixture of shock, pride, and curiosity as she stood quickly, put on her favorite little cotton housedress, and walked quietly out of the room. For the next few minutes, I lay in the bed, my mind racing, my heart beating faster. I wanted to give her time before I arrived, but I didn't want to miss anything. This was a moment I had been waiting for a long, long time, and I wanted to savor it. You never know how this sort of thing will turn out. After an eternity, I heard a rustling sound from the other room. As if in a trance, I slowly crawled from the bed and crept out the door, around the corner, and down the hall...

Eric was right where I had left him, but he had reclined along the length of the couch, a blanket draped about his legs. In the gloom, I saw Jen on her knees next to the couch, leaning forward, her head disappearing somewhere. Eric was not speaking, but he was rolling his head slowly against the pillow. From my perspective in the corner, on the floor, all I could see was the top of his head and Jen's lovely ass concealed under her dress. Her blowjobs are supreme, definitely the best I have ever received. She has a way of stretching the skin down before swallowing the cock loosely, and then pulling back up with just the right amount of wet and suction...it is a glorious thing! Even though I could not see exactly, I could tell Eric was appreciating her skills. My own cock immediately became hard again and I moved a little closer to check out this erotic scene. Jen continued to suck Eric, pacing her movements. His hand, until now hanging from the couch, snaked up her legs, pushing the dress up, up, until her ass and pussy were exposed. I heard him say something quietly to her, and she stopped long enough to respond, then went back to work. With that permission, he began fingering her obviously wet pussy. I felt a little rush of excitement as she spread her legs, allowing him full access. He quickly inserted a finger, then two, then three, and I heard a little cry from her. She liked it, I knew, but three was too rough. I felt pride that I already understood all the boundaries Eric would soon discover. He was in for a few surprises, that was for sure. This scene went on for a few more minutes until Eric apparently decided he had had enough and wanted to go to the main event. As he gently pushed her off, she sat up and began kissing him. He responded for a minute, then stopped.

"Are you sure this is cool with Alan?" he said suddenly, still not noticing me.

"Yes. He's probably watching us right now."

Eric looked a little startled in my direction, picking me out of the gloom. I smiled and, not wanting to slow things down, stood up and approached them.

"Jen," I said evenly, "go to the bedroom. Eric will be there in a second." Jen paused, and then slipped out of the room, leaving me and him alone.

He peered at me, obviously feeling a little peculiar about standing in front of another man while sporting a raging hard-on. Neither of us knew quite what to say. Then he spoke. "So, you really want this to happen?" he said, peering at me in the dark.

"Yeah, I guess I do." He said nothing. I knew what he feared. I had to put it to rest. "Eric, this is just something that Jen and I have fantasised about and we couldn't think of anyone better than you. We trust you...I trust you." He still said nothing. "...and NO, I don't want to do anything with YOU. I just want you with her...and maybe you and me both doing her, no funny stuff." I could hear him breathe a little easier. He laughed curtly, said something like, "OK..., she's your wife..." and strolled toward the bedroom where Jen lay waiting.

I stood in the living room, my mind racing, incredibly excited about what was about to happen. I decided to wait again for a few minutes to let them get comfortable.

When I snuck back into the bedroom, I was greeted by a sight I will never, ever forget. Jen, laying on her back in a sixty-nine underneath Eric, her lips wrapped firmly around his hard cock--a cock, which I noted, was perhaps a little longer than mine, but not as wide.