Amy Lynn the Story

"I'm not gay," were the first words I heard over breakfast the next morning, "I don't know what happened."

I smiled and assured them that I never thought he was gay. I thought he was sexy, and what happened the previous night was huge turn on.

"I'm not sure I can see you with another man again," he continued, "I couldn't just watch. I couldn't watch you with him, you know, that's why I joined you. So I didn't have to watch."

I felt terrible guilt again. Even though it was his idea, I could stop it. I could say no, but I didn't say no. I went along with it.

The thought of Gabe's cock, how big it was, how different. His thick pubic hair and that long, incredibly wide shaft filling me, pulling me wider apart than I ever imagined possible was lingering in my head.

I looked back at my husband as he continued on and on, trying to reassure himself that he wasn't gay. It was cute. I knew he wasn't gay, but I could tell he was feeling guilty about enjoying himself.

"I mean when he kissed me I thought I was going to throw up," John stood up and cleared the morning dishes, "and his thing, that was so different feeling, not smooth and sexy like your strap-on, and it had a taste."

I looked at his butt, smiling, thinking of that huge cock stuffed inside of it. I wanted to touch myself, but I knew that would hurt him. I resisted.

"I think I'm going to walk to the coffee shop," I stood up, "want to join me?"

"I can't walk that far, honey," John scrubbed the dishes, not even turning his head, "I'm really sore."

I rubbed his bottom and gave him a hug then bundled up.

The walk to the coffee shop had taken me perilously close to Sandy's house, and the return of unbearable guilt. How could we continue like this?

I thought about the irony in all of it. My husband at home, doing dishes, convincing himself that while he had sex with a man, he wasn't at all gay. Me standing in front of my gay lovers apartment wondering how things got this complicated. How I ended up, for all practical purposes, a lesbian.

I lingered there for a while, not sure about the coffee anymore. Not really sure about anything anymore. My life had spiraled from normal to this. This was as far from normal as I could have imagined. If I had a time machine and went back and told myself what happened, I'd probably thought I should be committed, or at least bold face lying.

"Are you going to come in?" I snapped out of my daydream and saw Sandy standing at her building door. "You've been standing there for fifteen minutes, it's cold out here."

I smiled. As much as everything was in shambles, a part of me still need to be with her. To talk to her, feel her warm breath, her soft skin.

"What were you doing out there?" Sandy poured a mug full of coffee and handed it to me.

"Thinking," I smiled, taking a sip of the coffee. "About you, about things."

We had to talk. I couldn't go on like this. It was killing me. I was cheating on my husband, a husband who just let me cheat on him. I shouldn't be hiding everything. I started talking about me, about my life up until this craziness happened.

"Then," I looked away embarrassed, "he got laid off and I started, you know, treating my husband more like my wife."

"What do you mean?" Sandy looked confused. "Like having him do the laundry and stuff? I mean this isn't your mom and dad, things have changed."

Of course she was confused, I was confused and I was living it.

"More than that," I touched Sandy's leg, "I make him wear panties."

Sandy giggled, and I started too. We didn't stop. We giggled for twenty minutes, like little schoolgirls with a secret.

"There's more," I caught my breath, "a lot more."

"No there isn't," Sandy spit her coffee into her lap and tried to mop it up, "What more can there be?"

"I fuck him," I looked at her. "I mean, I, fuck, him. I stick it in his ass and he comes all over the sheets like a teenager, two seconds and he's done."

"No way?" Sandy moved closer to me and started massaging my thighs, "you fuck him in the ass?"

Sandy started working her hands under my shirt to find my breasts. Her hands sending shivers to me. Telling her the story was bringing me to the brink of explosion, each word, sending electricity through my spine, my hair on end.

"Has he really been fucked yet?" Sandy lifted my shirt and gently started kissing my breasts.

Here I thought this story, this openness would turn her off, give me an exit out, but it was pulling her in deeper, me in deeper. I felt my nipple against her tongue, her mouth warmly exploring it.

"No," I reached to find some part of her soft skin to touch, "I think that would be too much, even for him."

I lied. I didn't know why, it was a lie that I would have to explain later, but I didn't know that at the time. Part of me feels like I lied because I worked with Sandy and by this time I thought I had already done too much, said too much. Most of me lied for him, because the thought of him already tormented by his actions, and now, a stranger knowing about them filled me with guilt.

We laid in each others kissing embrace for a long time. Both of us inching closer and closer to the inevitable release we always enjoyed together. Her hands and lips were so good at finding the right places to touch. My ears, my nipples, the small of my back and beyond.

Finally her fingers found their way between my legs and shudders of ecstasy raced through my veins. I shook at her touch, trembling beneath her lips, her hands exploring me, turning me over the edge until at last my body went rigid in excitement and my juices burst into her waiting hands.

Her body too was shaking, her thighs straddling one of mine, pressed tight against me. Our bodies shaking together, each of us embracing the other tighter and tighter until our bodies felt like one.

We laid in each other arms on the sofa.

"How come you've never fucked me?" Sandy looked into my eyes.

"I never thought of it," I really hadn't. The thought had never even crossed my mind. I don't know why.

"I'd like to one day," Sandy smiled, "and I want to see your husband in panties."

I felt my stomach quiver as she finished that sentence. The thought of my lover seeing my husband like that was sending question after question through my head. Why does she want to see him like that? How would he react? What will he say if he finds out about Sandy? When he finds out about Sandy.

"One day," I smiled nervously, "maybe I'll take a picture for you."

"I want more than a picture," I felt Sandy squeeze my leg, "I want you."

Sandy was insatiable after I told her about my husband. She wanted gory details and every little story seemed to turn her mad with desire. Our lovemaking sessions growing longer and longer. As much as I hated living this lie, I couldn't find the willpower to leave. I felt helpless against my raw desire for her love.

I kept living the lie. I took so many walks to the coffee shop, sometimes twice a day, that my husband thought I had a new found love for bitter water.

We never tried finding another man, even though I hinted it would be okay. I didn't want to press things. I was afraid if I did things would change. I couldn't take change right then, everything in my life so precariously balanced, I was afraid if something changed it'd all fall apart.

Our loving making was improving. I found that he almost always had to be stimulated from behind to get hard, but after that, could manage to fuck me, at least once in a while. It wasn't a marathon, but under the right circumstance it was nice.

It was spring. Everything felt good. Sandy was amazing at work. I knew I was going to have to promote her, but how? Everyone thought she was my pet, my favorite. She was, but she was working so hard, she would have been my best employee regardless. I kept making excuses for keeping her with me, but I knew I had to lose her.

Then my entire life came crashing down.

It was a Friday near the end of the day when it happened. I was called into my bosses office. I was never called into my bosses office, he always had made a meeting with me before.

"We're closing this office," the words echoed in my head over and over again, "we're shutting it all down. Today."

I was shocked. One minute I was commanding the respect of fifty people, earning a six figure salary, and the next I was being told we were all being let go. I thought of all the lives it would affect, the families, it was devastating.

"Today? All of it?" I stammered.

It was the saddest day to this point of my life. Telling people they had no more job, one by one they came to my office. I saw grown men weeping like little babies. Women and men embracing, each of them looking like they were at a funeral. Their funeral.

"How are you doing?" my boss came into my office and closed the door. "I know this is hard. It's hard for me too."

I swore at him. He told me, I told everyone else. I glared at him.

"Why did you do it? Why did you wait?" I was angry. "You could have given them some idea, me some idea. We worked our asses off for you and your corner office and your fancy car and ugly wife and kids."

I stopped, knowing I crossed the line.

"It's okay," he took the opening, "I found out this morning. I was in my office crying all morning thinking about it. I thought I might be having a heart attack, seriously."

"I'm sorry," my face softened, "It's been a hard day. I didn't mean what I said."

We talked for a while, about my severance, my stocks.

"You're actually doing pretty well by this," he handed me a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers on it, one very large one circled near the bottom. "They've vested you one hundred percent."

I did do pretty well, but I didn't have a job and I didn't know how I was going to find one.

Then there was Sandy. I hadn't told her, she found out from someone else. I wanted to tell her. Just to see her, to have someone to talk to, but it didn't happen. She was gone, off to a bar somewhere with her friends.

I wandered home in my car in a daze. Several wrong turns later, finally finding my driveway, I stayed in the car. Composing myself.

Again the irony of the situation smacked me in the nose. I wonder how my husband had felt that day that he got laid off and he had to come in and tell me. I wondered if he felt as sick as I did. I wondered if he had a gay lover too, then laughed, working up the courage to go inside.

"Honey," I called out, "are you here? I need to talk."

He walked out from the living room.

"We do need to talk," he looked confused.

I walked towards him and all the blood rushed from my body as I saw Sandy, her beautiful blue eyes puffy and red, a tissue against her nose.

I stood there frozen. What had I done?

"Sandy told me," John reached out and pulled me close for a hug.

I just burrowed my head against his shoulder and felt the tears rushing from inside of me. I couldn't hold back and I sobbed and sobbed. I tried to cry all the pain of the day away.

Sandy slid slowly behind me, her own sobs jolting her body, pulled herself against my back. I felt her cold tears soaking my shirt, her breasts pressing against my back. What a mess this was.

"What did she tell you," I sobbed, "I had to lay off fifty people today."

"She told me everything," John pulled me closer.

At least he was still holding me I thought at first, but I felt Sandy's hands gently rubbing me. Had she told him everything? What was everything really? The tears slowly replaced by the fear of what he knew, or what he didn't know.

John slowly moved to the couch and we all sat together. I found out that John's version of everything was, luckily, not really much of anything. He said that he knew Sandy was the girlfriend I would talk to about work when I went on my walks, that she worked for me.

He then told me how she rang the door at four and was standing on the porch sobbing. How uncomfortable it made him feel and what the neighbors might have thought.

"She somehow convinced me to let her in," his story went on, "telling me she was your assistant at work and really bad things happened. Though I could barely understand her through her sobs. I thought you might have been dead."

I looked over at Sandy, her sobbing completely controlled now, but her nose and eyes still puffy and red. What did this mean for us I wondered? Certainly now things couldn't be the same.

"I told him about all the jobs," I was relieved when Sandy started to finish the story, knowing she'd retell the parts I needed to know. "How I was going to lose my apartment without any money. How much I was going to miss you, your mentoring."

She winked and smiled.

"And then I asked him if he really wore panties," she looked at me and let out a giggle. "And he gave me a little peek."

I couldn't believe it. I was scared. What had just happened? I told her a secret and she used it?

"You didn't?!" I looked at her angrily.

John hugged me.

"You said you didn't tell anyone," John pulled me closer, "but once she asked I figured there was no reason to lie. Are there no secrets girlfriends don't share with each other?"

We talked for a long time the three of us. It was nice, the thought of sex never crossing my mind. Just friendship.

"You should stay with us," John held his hand out for Sandy, "we have four bedrooms. At least until you get back on your feet."

Before I could say it was a horrible idea, Sandy had agreed and they were making arrangements to empty her apartment into our basement.

It took a while, but the thought of my two lovers in the same house was both exhilarating and frightening. He was going to find out. I was going to have to tell him. We were going to have to tell him.

"I'm getting tired, it's been a long day," I gave John a hug walking over to Sandy to embrace her.

"You can stay as long as you want," I pulled Sandy's body to me, gently reaching my arms around her in a friendly hug.

She pulled me closer and pushed her lips against mine, her tongue parting my lips wide and exploring my mouth. I felt my knees buckle. I looked at John, his eyes fixed on mine. I leaned my head back and let her in, unable to resist.

"I told him," Sandy whispered in my ear, "he was really mad at first, then I told him he'd get to watch."

I pulled her body against mine and pressed my lips to her. How did she do it? Why wasn't he wanting to kill her right now?

"He was still angry," she smiled her face in front of mine, "but his cock wasn't, it was trying to break out of his pants."

"Honey?" I looked over at John, still on the couch, his obvious bulge twitching. "Is this okay?"

He looked scared. Excited and scared.

"I don't want any more secrets," he nodded his head at me, "if you have anymore I need to know about..."

I shook my head forcefully no.

"I said he'd get to watch," Sandy smiled, unbuttoning my blouse and freeing my breasts for her touch. "I wouldn't want disappoint him."

She lowered her head to my breast and pulled it into her mouth. I looked over at John, his cock freed from his pants, his hand wrapped around it, tugging it gently. I heard my belly churning juices towards my legs.

We drifted to the bedroom, our two bodies embracing like they did some many times. Her hands exploring me, driving me to the brink of exploding pleasure. Every once in a while, my husbands pants reminding me he was there, this was for him as much as it was for me.

The guilt I had been feeling was slowly eroding with each suckle of my breast, touch of her lips against mine, her hands exploring me.

She moved her hips over my face, slowly lowering herself down on me I felt her hot body engulf my face, my tongue searching her, shudders running through our bodies, she lowered her head between my legs. I exploded, the warmth of her breath, the sliding tongue against my clit, my husbands pants, all sending quivers of joy through my body.

I pulled her closer to me, her taste smothering my face. How I loved that taste of her. How it stayed with me for days afterward in the back of my throat. I pulled her inside of me and felt her body writhe, her moans deepening until she too was in her own throes of ecstasy.

As our lovemaking subsided, I felt my husbands warm body sliding on the bed next to me, his cock obviously spent sometime in the middle of his show. We laid together all of us that night, me in the middle, both of them touching me, until we drifted off to sleep.

It's been working out, surprisingly. My husband went back to work. We both laughed that Sandy found us both our jobs. She got me on websites, found colleagues for me, answered half my emails. It was like she was still working for me.

She found a job too, but not working with me. I wanted to hire her but I refused to. It caused trouble for a while, but she's over it. She knows it's for the best.

Funny thing is, she got back on her feet pretty quick, but she never moved out. I'm happy she didn't, but I still have a hard time explaining any of this to my parents.

Oh, and John, not so fond of wearing panties anymore. I kind of miss it.