Betsy

I got home from work that Friday ready for a drink. It had been one of those weeks where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Thankfully, we’d corrected our problems that morning, and were all looking forward to a much-deserved rest over the weekend.

I pulled into the garage, and went inside, expecting to see my wife pouring my drink for me, as she always does when she hears the garage door open and close. Instead, she was sitting on the couch, laughing with her new pal, Betsy, from across the street.

"Hi Babe!" Kelly said. "How was work?"

I went over and kissed by wife, happy as always to see her smiling face. "Good, for a change. The system’s finally stable, so we don’t have to work over the weekend."

"Great, Honey! I’m glad."

"Hey, Betsy."

"Hey, Max. Rough week?"

I headed to the bar and poured myself a stiff scotch and soda.

"Could have been better. What are you two up to?"

"Oh, just hanging out." Kelly replied. "So can you stay up late, tonight?"

I sat next to her, squeezing her bare thigh.

"Sure, you want to go out or something?"

She looked at me with the tiniest hint of mischief in her eyes.

"I dunno, maybe. Let’s just wait and see how you feel."

Hmmm

, I said to myself.

So she’s up to something.

Knowing her, that meant things were about to get very interesting.

"So Betsy, how you been?" I asked. "Staying out of trouble?"

"Oh, I guess," said she. "unfortunately."

"How’s work going?" I asked, and the so the early evening began. It had passed happily for us all, when finally the sun set, and dusk shifted into night. We talked about our work, the kids (all visiting their dads that weekend), and joked and generally had fun. The girls drank their beer, and I my scotch, none of us shy about getting their next one. I found myself wondering what Kelly was up to, when I noticed, for the first time since I’d known her, that Betsy was wearing a black bra under her white blouse. She was a blond beauty to start with, and I’d always liked the way she wore her miniskirts, but she’d always dressed a bit conservatively, for work, I’m sure. That night, though, the black lace of her bra suggestively outlining her chest against the clean white cotton, left me staring for a moment. She wore a tight black miniskirt, showing off her slender legs, and her wavy blonde locks danced around her neck when she spoke. All in all, Betsy was a very sexy woman, and I suddenly had an idea of what might be on Kelly’s mind.

The talk had shifted to books, and Betsy was telling us about the latest Grisham novel. I looked back at my wife, and noticed that, though she was apparently dressed in her typical day-clothes, shorts and a loose midriff, she’d also had on fresh mascara and lip gloss, and her jet black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. A beauty of exotic olive skin and dark, wide eyes, she’d turn heads everywhere we went. Her tight waist curved sensuously out of the top of her jeans shorts and disappeared up underneath the gray midriff.

She noticed my inspection, and glanced wickedly at me, for just a moment.

"Oh, Betsy, did I tell you that Max is a writer?"

Uh oh…

"Really? What kind of things do you write?" she asked, her green eyes the picture of innocence.

"Uh, well…" I stammered, knowing for certain that I couldn’t just come out and tell her that I mostly wrote erotica.

"He mostly writes erotica." Kelly piped up, cheerfully.

With that, I knew exactly what was on my darling Kelly’s twisted little mind.

She was going to seduce Betsy.

Betsy’s eyes went wide, and I just swallowed, staring in disbelief at my little vixen of a wife.

"Really?? Like about sex?" she said, leaning forward, her elbows on her bare knees, cradling her beer in her hands. Her voice lowered. "Wow, that’s so- I don’t know…"

"Hot?" Kelly suggested.

"Yeah," Betsy looked directly at her. "…hot." She looked back at me.

I finished my drink in one swallow and headed for the bar.

They both giggled at my cowardice. I didn’t care. I’d long ago come to accept that life just isn’t at all predictable, when you’re married to a woman like my wife. And yet, we had more fun than any ten people I knew, so I learned, wisely, to just go with the flow.

For now, the scotch flowed. I saved room at the top for about three and a half molecules of club soda, and skipped the ice altogether. Heading back to the couch, I saw that Betsy was now huddled in whispered conversation with Kelly on the couch. They giggled like school girls.

They broke their huddle as I sat, and looked at me, heads still close together, like two conspirators sizing up their victim.

"Honey," Kelly said, ever so sweetly. "Can Betsy read one of your stories?"

"Please?" Betsy pleaded.

This

, I told myself,

is one of those moments most men only dream of. A moment that holds promise of tantalizing beauty and unexplored desires. All I have to do is go with the flow.

I looked at my lovely, oh-so horny wife. She waited, knowing probably more than I what I would say next.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sure, why not?"

"Great!" Betsy said.

Kelly jumped up, heading for the stairs. "C’mon Betsy. We’ll print one off and bring it down."

"Can I pick which story we read?" Betsy asked, close behind.

"We’ll see." Kelly answered. "I have one or two in mind I’d like to start with."

To start with?

As I watched their shapely asses rocking back and forth as they climbed the stairs, I wondered what story Kelly had in mind for "starters". Was it

The Camping Trip

? Or the one about the girl who got picked up at Victoria’s Secret? Surely, she’d start off with something more mild than wild… wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t

dare

start with

The Beach,

or some such frenzied story written with equal parts alcohol and abandon.

"How about this:" Kelly said from the master bedroom. "Its kinda romantic."

"

The Beach

?" Betsy replied. "Sure, that sounds good."

Ho, boy…

While I knew Betsy was probably conjuring up images of a man and a woman on the beach, rolling and kissing in the surf like something out of

From Here To Eternity

, the shameful truth was that

The Beach

has always been one of my most, well, imaginative stories. It’s centered around a spicy young couple that seduces a bikini-clad stranger at a Caribbean beach bar. Kelly, I could see, didn’t want to waste any time. I hoped I’d remembered to run spell-check on it.

The printer went silent, and they came downstairs, Kelly holding the ten pages in her hand like some magic key.

"Why don’t you grab us a couple more beers, Betsy?"

"Sure thing!"

"So," I said in my best naïve voice. "What’d you two pick?"

"

The Beach

," Betsy said ominously, as if it were a murder mystery.

Kelly sat down on the couch and looked at me, supremely satisfied with herself. I suddenly felt like Ricky Ricardo:

Wassa matter with you, you crazy or sonthin?

"Honey, you ready?" she said sweetly. I guessed by the perceptible tremor in my hand as I slurped at my scotch that the answer was clearly

NO

.

"Fire away," said I.

Not only had no one but my own darling wife ever read one of my torrid little tales, but never before had one been used in the real-life seduction of a real-live girl. I found myself wondering if my writing was good enough to work. Would Betsy soon be cooing with pleasure like Kelly always did, or would she be so offended by the super-heated content that she’d get up and politely excuse herself, stammering something about the clothes she’d left in the dryer?

Kelly began reading, and I saw in my mind the story as it unfolded, from the couples’ walk on the sunset-bronzed beach, fresh from an after-dinner swim, to the cozy little beach hut bar where they sat to drink and relax. A bikini-clad blonde strolls in (right on queue), turning every head in the bar. A sultry glance, an inviting look, and they’re suddenly all sitting together, flirting and drinking.

I watched Betsy closely as she read along with Kelly. She had the look of someone waiting to be surprised, waiting to see what happens. That seemed okay. Not exactly a suspense novel, I admitted to myself, but I did try to build the anticipation.

They flirted and touched, drank and seduced each other. Soon they were all walking along the beach, not surprisingly heading in the general direction of couples’ own hut.

Betsy smiled a little. I couldn’t tell if she liked how things were turning out or just amused at its simplistic, almost adolescent attempt at being sexually arousing.

I sipped away.

I began looking Betsy over closely as she read with Kelly, her lips mouthing the words now and again. Her skirt had hiked up to near the tops of her thighs, and her nipples were now standing out beneath her bra and shirt. That seemed okay, too. I tried to imagine, for the hundredth time, what Betsy’s breasts looked like. Had she ever made love to a woman? Did she like to have her pussy tasted and licked? How wild was she? I realized I was staring at her tits, and looked up to see Kelly looking directly at me, smiled luridly. She wanted this girl. And knowing her, she wanted me to have this girl, too.

"Oooh," Betsy breathed, perking my ears back up. The couple had the girl down on their bed, the man kissing her and massaging her breasts while the woman licked and nibbled at the insides of her thighs.

Betsy squirmed a bit, uncrossing her legs, and crossing her ankles instead. She rested her chin on Kelly’s shoulder, still reading along.

Kelly paused to take a long draught on her beer. Betsy stepped in and began to read aloud. As the girl pulled back her legs, totally exposing her pussy to the woman, Betsy’s own legs crept open just a few inches.

Kelly gave her the story to hold, and lay her free hand on Betsy’s thigh.

The girl on the bed began moaning loudly, while the man had moved behind his partner and begun to fuck her while she tongue-fucked the girl.

Kelly breathed in through her teeth. "I really love this part!"

Betsy was being drawn into the story, now, reading faster as the pace in the beach hut quickened. She sipped at her beer hurriedly. The man’s thrusts were impaling the girl’s pussy onto the woman’s tongue. She gripped at the sheets as her body began to buck and writhe, her orgasm beginning to take her over. At the same time, the woman and the man also began to come, and the three became one sweating, pounding entity, awash in ecstasy. Finally, they collapsed, leaving nothing but the sound of spent bodies drawing deep, exhausted breaths.

Betsy stopped there. She peered at me, her eyes hard. I waited.

"You wrote this?" she said. " All of it?"

"Afraid so." I said. "What do you think?"

"I think I need one of those scotches." she said. "That’s what I think. God, this is so sexy! I can’t believe how – excited I’m getting, just reading this!"

Kelly stroked her thigh a bit. "Told you you’d like it. It’s pretty good, isn’t it?"

"Oh yeah, I mean, when they undressed her, and he was undoing the girl’s top while she pulled down her bottoms, I almost felt the bikini peeling off of me!"

She took a long drink of her beer, finishing it off.

"Really?" Kelly said. "God, that’s pretty hot in itself!" The two girls exchanged a glance.

"I’m not kidding, I need one of those scotches!" Betsy said, beginning to get up. Kelly patted her thigh, jumping up.

"You just stay put, I’m bartender tonight." Then, in her typically suggestive way, "So, how do you want it?"

The hint hung in the air like a miniature thundercloud. She leveled her eyes at me.

"Like Max’s" she answered. "I want exactly what he has."

"Anything you say, beautiful."

I sat back, watching the repartee, thinking-

she liked it!

"Can I keep reading?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "…but watch out. It gets pretty- wild from here on in."

"Oh, Max!" Kelly scolded me. "How can the person who wrote this say its anything but just plain sexy? After all, its from your own imagination, right?"

"That’s my point." I said matter-of-factly, then to Betsy, "I hope this won’t run you off."

Betsy looked at me, holding my gaze. She whet her lips.

"Don’t worry, Max." she said, her eyes smoldering. "I can read anything you write. In fact, I’ve probably fantasized about most things you’ve written."

I felt my cock suddenly jump to life. Her eyes darted to my crotch, and she smiled, her lips shiny and slick. She locked onto my eyes again.

I grinned stupidly.

Shucks, you’re swell, Betsy.

She took her drink from Kelly.

"Thanks," she said, and leaned in and kissed Kelly on the cheek.

Kelly looked at her, her eyes dancing and happy with the surprise peck.

She leaned towards Betsy, a little tentatively, testing the waters. Betsy’s lips parted a little. Kelly kissed her softly, her eyes fluttering closed. Betsy’s eyes were still half-open, as if to prove to herself that it was a woman whose lips she felt on her own. She breathed out heavily through her nose, and opened her mouth, flicking her tongue into Kelly’s. Kelly’s hand went to her shoulder, gently squeezing and stroking her flesh. Betsy responded, and the kiss quickly became passionate. Kelly’s other hand slid over to Betsy’s flat belly, and moved up, caressing Betsy’s breast, kneading and teasing her nipple through her clothes. A soft moan escaped Betsy, her lips still open and locked with Kelly’s, her eyes now softly closed.

I grew harder by the second, watching these two beautiful women kiss and touch each other so sensually. I was dying to grab my cock through my pants and stroke it for all it was worth, but something held me back.

Betsy slowly pulled back, gazing languidly into Kelly’s eyes. She took a sip, then another from her cocktail. She looked over at me, playful abandon in her eyes. She rubbed her free hand along the inside of her thigh. As if on signal, Kelly reached in and began to stroke the inside of her other thigh. Together, they slowly parted her legs, exposing the shadowy vee of her black lace panties. I wondered how wet they’d become.

"Still afraid you’ll run me off, Max?" she teased.

I just shook my head slowly. "All I want to know is… what do you want for breakfast?"

"So, who’s reading now?" Kelly said. "Max?"

"No, no." I refused. "I write, you guys read. That’s the rule."

Betsy ran her hands up and down Kelly’s arm.

"I don’t want to read anymore." she said.

Kelly leaned in and began to kiss her neck and shoulder. "What do you want, beautiful?"

Betsy looked at me for a languid moment, then at Kelly.

She whispered. "I want what you want. I want us all to make love."

Kelly took her drink from her and set it on the coffee table.

Kelly whispered in reply: "You’re so beautiful, Betsy. We’ll make you feel soooo good."

She continued exploring, now rubbing her thigh very near the laced vee of her panties. "Oooh, Betsy, I want to lick you and taste you. I want to see Max ram that gorgeous big cock of his up between your legs, and make you scream."

"Oooh, yes…" she moaned, feeling Kelly’s finger graze over the top of her cunt. She was catching fire, and Kelly knew it. The slightest touch at that moment would send tiny jolts through her body. Her legs widened further, and she slid further down on the couch. Her skirt again slid further up her thighs, now reaching near the top of the deep vee low in the French cut panties. Kelly traced her finger along the edge of her panties, and up to the top edge of the deep vee. Betsy’s hands wandered aimlessly, finding her own breasts, totally lost in the sensations erupting around her now steaming cunt.

Kelly’s fingers slipped under the vee and moved down to engulf Betsy’s bushy mound underneath the panties.

"Oh…" she said, her voice stilted, her breathing more ragged. "Oh…yeah…that’s right. That feels so good, oh God, that feels so fucking good!"

She pushed Kelly’s hand down harder over her pussy.

"Rub it! Stick your fingers in me…"

Kelly obliged, fully concentrated on Betsy’s pleasure. With her free hand, she slid Betsy’s panties down to mid-thigh. Max looked at the glistening bush, the lips slightly parted by Kelly’s middle finger. Kelly slipped this, and then a second finger deep down within the moist folds of her pussy, stroking and kneading her clit. Betsy rolled her hips, making love to Kelly’s slippery fingers.

Kelly pointed the tips of her fingers into the opening of her vagina, and pushed inside.

"Aaah..!" Betsy cried out. "Oh yeah! That’s right, Kelly! Fuck me! Fuck my pussy with your fingers! Make me come!!"

Kelly began pumping her in earnest, now driving three fingers noisily into her sopping wet pussy. "Oo-ooh-oh..!" Kelly groaned, her voice now shaky. Her body spasmed at Kelly’s hand, bucking hard onto her fingers. Her legs strained at her panties, trying hard to open wider and accept the exquisite abuse being dealt to her pussy.

I looked down and saw that my own hand had rooted out my cock on its own, probably tired of waiting for me to catch up. I looked again at the two women just in time to see Kelly lean in and begin to whisper hoarsely to her.

"I want you to come, Betsy! Do you feel me fucking you? Do you feel my fingers?! Come now! Do it! Come all over my hand!"

Betsy shrieked, breathing in sharply. Her body trembled, her legs still straining at their binds.

"Come! I’m going to fuck you until you come! Come on, baby!""

"Oh Ghod! Oh, YES KELLY!!! FUCK ME!! FUCK MEEEE!! OH, YYEEESSS!!!" she screamed. Her hips thrust again and again at Kelly’s invading fist until finally, she froze, hips high and straining against Kelly’s fingers, shimmering with sweat. She was lost for long seconds then, neither breathing nor moving- reeling through the tidal waves of her orgasm, one after another.

I traded a glance with Kelly at that moment. She winked at me, and looked down at my crotch. I had come too, it seemed.