My name is Phil Williams and I got lucky selecting a wife. Then I got lucky selecting a place to drill for oil in Texas. Then I got lucky selecting a broker to invest my money. So by age fifty I retired and started to have fun with my wife and my money. Then my luck ran out. After one year of fun my wife of thirty years died of cancer.
Day after day I sat and looked out over lovely white sand at a beautiful emerald ocean thinking about how much fun my wife and I had had when we were poor and looked out over ugly brown sand at an ugly Texas desert. I missed her. Oh my God how I missed her!
I felt that life was not worth living. But I had friends who helped me try to live my life again and I think it was golf that helped the most. I was alone on the course thinking about each shot and listening to my wife's voice in my head telling me to keep my head down and keep that transition slow. I met even more friends at the golf club and my wife's voice in my head told me it was okay to have fun without her. It's what she would have heard me say to her if our circumstances were reversed.
Three years after my wife died I met Trish. Blond and beautiful and twenty-eight. Too young for me everyone thought except, of course, me and her. My friends hinted that I didn't need a trophy wife. My closest friends said it straight out. Trish was a widow. Her husband had been killed in the crash of an experimental plane. He had been a test pilot. She had enough money. I didn't think she wanted mine.
We started dating and when the time came for sex we tried it. It seemed to work. And we talked about it. Talked about it the way you would expect a twenty-eight year old woman and a fifty-four year old man to talk about screwing if they both were open and honest. I learned that she and her husband had been in a swinging crowd and she was accustomed to that experience and enjoyed it. I had never done it but I figured I might try if she wanted me to.
One night I got the courage to ask her if I would be enough to satisfy her. She laughed and said something about swinging. I didn't understand what she said exactly and I was too embarrassed about my performance to ask her to repeat it. I should have.
We got married and got a new set of friends, although some of my old and faithful friends stayed with us. Our sex was good but I was always afraid I was never quite enough for her. And I was afraid to ask. She gave me no indication that I was not satisfying her needs.
Life was good and getting better. Maybe not quite as good as I remembered with my first wife whose voice was sometimes in my head and was never critical of my new wife. We vacationed all over the world and had fun. We were in love. A comfortable, happy, growing love. In our second year of marriage we took a trip to Bermuda.
My first wife had been a golfer and I thought Trish might enjoy it. So I called the golf shop and scheduled a lesson for her with the pro. I went with her to watch. That golf pro had curly red hair and looking at him in a golf shirt his chest was almost as hairy as his head. He had a delightful English accent and he was thirty years old. Just like Trish was.
The lesson went well and afterwards, walking back to the hotel, Trish said casually, "Now there's a very sexy man. I could spread my legs for HIM."
She laughed as she said it as if it were a joke and said nothing more on the subject. How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? Was she joking? Was it a casual comment a swinger might make? A kind of swinger's compliment? Or was it a request to me to do something? Shit! What? I had no idea what she meant or what I should do. I said nothing and did nothing.
That night after dinner in the bar, Trish and I were sitting in a back booth quietly enjoying some single malt. I saw the golf pro walk up to the bar and order a drink. Trish waved at him and smiled.
"Rich," she yelled. "Over here! Come over and join us."
What the hell did that mean I asked myself. Innocent or not so innocent?
He joined us, smiling, and sat down next to Trish who was sitting across from me in the booth.
"To your first golf lesson," he said lifting his glass.
Trish giggled. She rarely giggled. I felt lost somehow and unsure of what to say. Unsure of what was happening. Both Trish and Rich seemed very comfortable. I was not. I was remembering him standing behind her with his arms around her showing her how to grip and swing the club. Their bodies had been almost touching − his crotch to her butt. I remembered what she had said about spreading her legs for him. What was happening?
The back booths were not well lit like the rest of the bar and we were the only people in the back. Rich was sitting very close to Trish. Their thighs were touching. They were looking at each other in a way that seemed to me more than just friendly and she kept giggling a lot.
We were on our third single malt and Trish seemed a bit tipsy, when Rich asked if we'd like a hit off a joint. Shit! I had done that years ago and I knew Trish and her swinging crown had been regular users. Maybe I should have said something right then but I paused and Trish giggled and nodded her head.
"But let's get seated properly before we do it," Trish said.
She got up from the booth and pushed Rich into her place against the wall. Then she took my hand and pulled me over to her side and she sat in the middle with me on her left and Rich on her right. It was crowded and our bodies were touching but she seemed to like it that way.
"This way I'm close to both my men," she said giggling again.
What the hell did that mean?
I felt her hand on my thigh and I realized she was grabbing Rich's thigh as well. Her fingers caressed me very seductively and I saw she was doing the same thing to Rich. Her fingers on my thigh were turning me on. What the hell was she doing? She was arousing us both.
Rich covertly lit a joint and we passed it and each of us took two hits before he put it out. I felt it slightly but this was all it took to send Trish to happy city. She laughed and giggled at everything either Rich or I said and her hand became much more friendly on my thigh, creeping over to my cock from time to time. Shit! Was she doing the same thing to Rich? I looked but couldn't tell. But she was sure as hell getting to me.
As the booze and pot kicked in she became less boisterous and we all quieted down a bit. But then the atmosphere became very erotic. She began to fondle my cock again through my pants and I got an erection. I looked over at Rich and this time I saw it. She was doing the same thing to him. He had a bulging erection and she was fondling it. Shit! Where was this thing going? I heard her voice in my head saying, "I could spread my legs for HIM."
We sat there close for several minutes and then she said it again, this time very softly, "This is much better. I'm close to both my men."
After a couple more minutes I heard a soft, sexy giggle and when I looked down I saw his hand on Trish's right thigh just above her knee. He had pulled her miniskirt up and was stroking her inner thigh, his hand slowly creeping higher. She made no effort to stop him. She liked it! Jesus! She's playing with his dick and his hand's almost up to her pussy. I kept remembering what she had said about him this afternoon.
Trish turned to me and placing her left hand behind my head she pulled me close and kissed me, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Then she reached down and squeezed my erection. She had me aroused. Then she turned and pulled Rich close and I realized she was doing the same thing to him. She reached down and squeezed his erection! She had us BOTH aroused.
Then I did something stupid. Even as I did it my brain yelled at me to stop but I did it anyway. I couldn't seem to help myself. My tension was just too high. My cock was throbbing.
"I've got to go to the men's room," I whispered to them and got up and left.
I have no earthly idea why I did it, although the next day Trish told me that giving them a chance to get started was the right thing to do if I had wanted to have a threesome. It was like a signal between swingers that I had given them my permission to become intimate. That was certainly not my intention.
When I entered the men's room I went into a booth and pulled out the throbbing erection that Trish had given me. It was the work of only a couple of minutes to masturbate into the commode, where my semen floated uselessly in the water with thick strands sinking down deeper. It seemed to ease my tension and I felt a little better. As I walked past the bar I looked back at our booth and I could see almost nothing in the darkness.
I returned to the booth not five minutes after I had left it and although I felt better, everything else had changed. Rich had used those minutes to work my wife into a sexual frenzy. Her panties were on the table. Her skirt was up to her waist revealing her belly and hairy beaver. Half naked and barefoot, I thought. Damn! She looks good!
Her naked legs were spread wide with her left foot on the floor and her right leg up over his lap with her foot pressing firmly against the wall. He had three fingers in that hairy pussy, his thumb on her clit, and he was finger fucking her as he kissed her. She was grunting and humping his fingers and she was getting leverage from one foot on the floor and the other against the wall to lift up her ass and hump harder. And she was really pumping her ass. I could tell she was working to cum.
