When Sally Grayson became my wife's close friend, I had the feeling that she'd be a bad influence on her. What I didn't know is just how good a bad influence can be.
They met when Sally and her husband Tom moved to the area and she joined a small amateur theatrical company where my wife, Carolyn, was a regular on the stage. They discovered they had a great deal in common and soon became fast friends. Carolyn works part-time and has her mornings free; so in a short while she and Sally were getting together for morning coffee and girl-talk most days of the week.
Sally was a late-twentysomething who could get away with playing characters younger still. My wife, on the other hand, is the definitive MILF--or perhaps better, WILF; we have no children--with a trim yet very womanly figure and that certain heart-melting look that not many 35-year-old women manage to achieve. I can recall a time or two back in high school when someone's mom would momentarily eclipse the nubile young ladies of my own generation and provoke some rather wild fantasies. Carolyn was just that kind of woman; and there is evidence that a young man or two is getting some of the same feelings.
Sally is more glamorous, with voluptuous curves and a supermodel face which manages to be seductive and girl-next-door wholesome at the same time--not an easy trick. Side by side, Carolyn's and Sally's respective brands of sex appeal were damn potent stuff, complementing and amplifying each other.
My wife and I enjoyed a satisfying sex life, not exceptional, but quite solid. We'd indulged a few mild fantasies along the way, but nothing that would so much as merit a line in an afternoon soap-opera.
In the months after Carolyn and Sally struck up their friendship, a gradual and very subtle shift in my wife's sexual nature was taking place, one so subtle that I did not notice it consciously for quite a while. She was becoming a bit more assertive, initiating sex more often, and growing increasingly intense and passionate in bed. She was also doing more playful things: greeting me after work in seductive outfits, staging little stripteases now and then, and just generally turning up the sexual heat. Eventually it became clear that this was not just part of the normal waxing and waning of sexual interest that are part of ordinary life. Needless to say, I was very pleased; but I also found myself wondering what was behind the change. Was it a natural kind of sexual awakening on her part? Or was there some influence that was prompting the change? From time to time an impulse to ask her would surface; but I'd let it pass in the belief--the correct one, it turns out--that it would be better to let her bring up the subject herself.
And so she did, one evening as we lay in bed, just relaxing a bit before heading off to Z-land. It was surprising how closely what she said mirrored my own thoughts.
"I hope you don't mind the time I'm spending with Sally," she said in a casual, offhand tone. "You should know that she's quite a wild child; in fact, she and Tom are quite a pair. You might worry that your innocent little wifey might be getting her head filled with a lot of salacious suggestions--or something of the sort."
I grinned.
"Well, Love, I have to admit that my 'innocent little wifey' seems to be putting on a little wildness of her own. If Sally's corrupting influence is helping that along, I can only say, corrupt away!"
She smiled, turned and nestled her head against my shoulder, her hand softly caressing my chest.
"You might be shocked and amazed at some of the things she's told me," she continued. "I thought those things only happened in soap operas and steamy novels."
"You're beginning to ignite some powerful curiosity here, I hope you know."
"Well, sweetheart, I just don't want you to worry. Some things, I'll admit, do get my sexual motor running, but I only do my driving right..." She gave my chest a playful poke. "...here."
"Well, I've never worried about you and our marriage and I see no reason to start now," I said. "You're perfectly capable of making up your own mind. As far as I'm concerned, if you two want to share your hot fantasies--or, perhaps, her accounts of her realities, if I get your drift--I'm getting the benefit, and that's more than fine with me."
She pressed her lithe form against me a little harder.
"You're too good for me, you know?"
"Of course."
"That's the wrong answer, you!" she said, laughing, tickling me playfully. Soon her hands strayed further south, her tender touches reaching my already half-erect cock. She proceeded with her expert ministrations; and soon our mouths joined in a fiery kiss, a prelude to another kind of joining...
Weeks passed, our lives continuing happily, our sex life continuing to heat up. I had to silently thank Sally for whatever it was that she was radiating to Carolyn. My wife was not disclosing those secrets she'd hinted at before. I thought at first she was just teasing, tantalizing me; but I later got the impression that she had perhaps divulged more than she meant to and felt she had to protect her friend's confidences. My occasionally burning curiosity would have to wait.
The waiting ended one day, and in a most unusual and unexpected way. I had returned home to find my wife in a strangely reserved mood, morose, and, it seemed to me, almost ashamed. I could not recall a time when she'd been this way, and I was highly disturbed. I could not begin to imagine what it could be about, and I sensed that probing her about it would make things worse. I held my tongue and waited, not without a great deal of trepidation.
The evening wore on, Carolyn seeming to drift, almost trance like, through the hours. When she spoke her eyes would not meet mine; her voice was little more than a weary exhalation. But it was when we retired that the worst happened: I reached to touch her, not in a particularly sexual way, but she turned away sharply, seeming to collapse into a huddled, pathetic figure. I could hold back no more.
"Carlolyn," I said, a bit more sharply than I had meant to. "I know something's wrong. It's plain as day. What is it?"
Her head remained averted; but I could see well enough to see tears escaping from her closed eyelids. I felt as if ice water were coursing through my veins.
"Look. What could possibly have happened to make you feel this way? What are you afraid to tell me?"
There was only the same tense silence. I lay back on my pillow, horrid, sickening thoughts racing through my imagination.
"Come on, Carolyn," I said, aware of a wisp of desperation in my voice. "Let's hear it. Whatever it is, it will come out eventually. Might as well get it over with."
She turned slowly to face me, the tears streaming down her cheeks. I wanted to reach to her and dry them, but I felt it best to keep a little distance.
"Oh, Sam!" Her words burst forth like a failing dam. "It's...it's just...I..."
"Go ahead, Carolyn."
"Well...I was over at Sally's, like I usually am in the morning."
I felt a sudden churning in my stomach. What sort of evil could have happened to my wife at Sally's? I waited as Carolyn continued her narrative.
"You know, as I've told you, she's quite a free spirit--she and Tom. Now and then I've known that something or other she was planning for the day was over in that--how should I say it?--over in that territory and I've just returned home then.
"You have to know that she has always been totally respectful of me and our marriage. She's never even hinted that I should get involved with anything she might be doing that isn't OK with both of us."
The churning in my stomach worsened, greatly. I found myself strangely torn between the need to know and a wish hide from it, whatever it may be.
"Well, today, there was something she'd told me about that she expected to happen. In her view a small thing, a bit of the sexual playfulness that the two of them indulge in. I would normally have finished my coffee and come home; but I found myself getting curious--overwhelmingly curious. I wanted to see for myself--just see if this little thing was for real.
"So, I persuaded her to let me stick around. She wanted me to be sure I wouldn't be shocked or hurt; I told her no; I knew what it was; I just wanted to see it. It just seemed so minor, the way she's always talked about it, just a little sexual game."
She stopped, choking on her words. I tried to hide the tension I was feeling; I didn't want to intimidate her into clamming up again.
"It's a silly thing, but every Wednesday a young man comes to service their swimming pool. It's become a custom..." She halted again, struggling for breath. "...her custom to give the guy a little...attention. He's really a nice fellow."
I could see where this was going. I noticed with great surprise that I was actually relieved, as if this was, indeed, a small thing. I silently awaited the rest of the story, unsure of what to make of the feeling.
"Sally asked me again if I was sure I wanted to stay. I said yes. So, we went out to the yard; and she stripped naked and got into their Jacuzzi. I was finding it hard to believe that this was really happening; but even more unbelievable, that this was really one of the more mild of her...their...sexual games.
"So, the guy arrived. As soon as he saw me, I thought I saw just a tinge of disappointment in his face, as if my being there meant that something he was hoping for wouldn't be happening. But Sally called him over and introduced us. When he saw Sally was nude his eyes seemed to light up.
"Then Sally said, 'Carolyn here has been a little incredulous about this little game of ours. She wants to see if it's really true; so I guess we'll just have to prove it.' By now she was no longer worried about offending me; after all, I'd said repeatedly that I wanted to stay and see."
She then turned her eyes to me, expecting, no doubt, to see anger. What she did read on my face seemed to puzzle her for a moment. Then, it seemed to me, she became a bit more relieved. She must have sensed that same feeling in me. She continued, a bit less apprehensively.
"So, now she started unzipping him, and got his...you know...out and started going to town on it. He seemed shy at my presence at first but it didn't take long before Sally got him past that. She started sucking his..."
I couldn't help but smile at her reticence. I took as soothing a tone as I could manage.
"I think we both know what it's called. Actually it's called a lot of things; take your pick."
