Beyond the Vows: an Erotic Journey

[To the reader: This is a greatly expanded version of "Beyond the Vows", which I posted this winter. As before, it has a lot of sex in it, but it's meant to be more of an erotic cautionary tale than a stroke story. If the latter is what you're looking for--and who isn't?--my apologies. Special thanks to jasperscribbler for his very useful criticism of the original.]

Prologue: New Year's Eve

"That woman I saw you kiss in the kitchen," said my wife as we were driving home, "if you'd known I wouldn't mind, would you have had sex with her?"

"I don't think her husband would have been too happy about it. And that's not what we do, you and I, is it?"

"No, it hasn't been, not so far," she said, "but I've been thinking. This year we both turn 39. I'm really not looking forward to 40. Before we get there, I'd like us to have some adventures."

"What kind of adventures?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile. "Naughty ones . . ."

***

February

My wife is on the bed with the guy. I'm in a chair a few feet away with my dick in my hand. We're all naked. He's touching my wife everywhere: her breasts, her nipples, between her legs. She has his penis. They moan and murmur: "ooooh . . . yesss . . . that's it . . . no,

there

. . . so wet . . . don't stop . . ."

She's forgotten about me. She's totally focused on this guy--on what he's doing to her with his tongue and his fingers, and what he's about to do with that big, thick cock. She's putting it in her mouth now, slurping on it, as he winces with pleasure and works another finger into her.

My erection is wilting: this is more unsettling than I'd expected. If she really loves me, how can she be so into this? I still want to see it, though.

She rolls onto her back and spreads herself for him. I can smell her. "Fuck me," she hisses, looking into his eyes, "I want that big thing in my cunt." He moves between her legs and gives me a quick glance, then slides his dick between the swollen lips. He sinks himself into her, and begins to pump.

My wife fucks back at him, throwing her hips up to meet his thrusts, and lifting her knees so he can get in deeper. They go at it like animals, hard and fast. She comes first, scratching and squealing. A few seconds later, it's his turn. Stiffening, he empties himself into her. There must be a lot: it's a long time before he stops twitching, and collapses beside her.

They lie there fondling each other. Finally, my wife gives him a kiss, then climbs out of bed and comes over to me. Straddling me, she settles in my lap and takes my limp penis in her hand.

"Are you O.K.?" she asks softly.

"I guess so. That was kind of intense."

Her brow wrinkles. "Oh baby, please don't worry. That was nothing but

foreplay

. For

us

!" Her stroking feels nice; I remain soft.

"Sorry," I say, gesturing at my dick. "I don't know, it was working earlier."

She gives me a small, wicked smile. She's so bad. "Maybe we need a little lube. I just happen to have some right here." Letting go of me, she reaches between her legs. When she touches me again, her hand is slick with his goo. She resumes stroking. In seconds, I'm hard as a rock.

She raises herself and takes me inside her. Her pussy is hot and slippery, and she's whispering in my ear about how good he felt. I'm fine now. This is how we'd hoped it would be. Scarcely a minute later, I've added my semen to his.

***

April

Wendy is between us on the sofa as she fires up the joint. It's very strong: a couple of hits and I'm gone. It seems like years before I surface to find Wendy and my wife slouched back with their eyes closed, holding hands.

I look at Wendy. She's all soft skin and lavender silk and wild black hair. I reach out and touch her cheek, then run my fingers down over her throat to the thin fabric covering her breasts and hard nipples and tight belly. She sighs and turns to me, her eyes still closed and lips parted.

We kiss for a long time. Her mouth tastes like gin and marijuana. I open my eyes again. My wife is snuggled up against her, nuzzling her neck. I reach around them, unzip my wife's dress, and slide it off her shoulders. She, in turn, unzips Wendy, and the lavender silk slips down Wendy's arms, exposing her breasts. We stroke them and play with her nipples as she moans with pleasure.

I decide I have on too many clothes. I watch my wife and Wendy as I undress. They're kissing now, tongues busy. Wendy starts to explore between my wife's thighs and gets tangled up in her dress. My wife raises herself slightly and slides dress and panties the rest of the way off; Wendy does the same with hers and now they're naked, and they're opening their legs for each other and their fingers are sliding in and out of each other's pussies. They're making little noises and I can smell their heat.

My wife comes up for air. "Jesus, I'm high," she says. "This is wild--it's like we're . . . other people, or something, doing all this. Does that make any sense? It's O.K., right?"

"It's better than O.K., love," I say, "but why don't we move the party into the bedroom?"

Wendy says, "And could we maybe have one more teeny hit . . .?"

So now we're really stoned, and it's skin on skin on skin: bodies writhing together on the bed, touching, squeezing, stroking, licking. Breasts dangle over me. I tongue one nipple, then the other. A warm, busy mouth is swallowing my cock, but whose? The nipples are my wife's so it must be Wendy's, but we're still slithering around and the mouth moves on. A fragrant pussy descends on my face, and I nuzzle and lick and suck its juicy folds while someone plays with my cock then slips it into tight wetness. As they ride me, they grab each other's breasts and kiss feverishly.

My wife pulls Wendy off my cock and down onto the bed between her spread legs. "Honey, do

me

!" she commands. Wendy buries her face in my wife's crotch, as I grab her hips from behind and put my dick back into her.

My wife and I lock eyes. It may be Wendy's pussy I'm thrusting into, but I feel like I'm fucking them both. When we come, it's like I've been turned inside out.

***

May

"Good lord, look at those three over there. That's really hot."

"That was you and Will and Zeke about ten minutes ago, my love."

"No way. I wasn't screaming like that, was I?"

"Louder."

"What a party. Aren't you glad we came?"

"You bet. Hmmm . . . I think someone's dripping on my foot."

"Oh god, sorry--can you hand me some of those tissues? Of course, if you guys wore condoms, life would be a lot less messy."

"A lot less fun for us, too. Besides, it's a turn-on seeing other guys' stuff leaking out of you."

"So how was Carly?"

"Nice. She doesn't move around much, but she does amazing things with her pussy."

"Anyone else caught your eye?"

"That little woman with the pointy tits and the red bush is mighty fine. You know, Molly's cousin. I don't know where she went, though. How about you?"

"Alex looks like he could stretch a girl nicely, but Angie says he's into anal."

"So?"

"So, I don't do anal with anyone but you, sweet pea."

"You could. Think what it might do for Swedish-American relations."

"No doubt, but that one's just for us, and don't you forget it."

"Yeah, I know, I'm just kidding. Speaking of well-hung Vikings, here comes the man now. You may not think so, but three's a crowd. I'm going to search for my little redhead."

"O.K., sweetie, see you later."

"Bye."

***

July

My wife and I are sipping our morning cappuccinos in the hotel breakfast room when the awful couple with the unspeakable mother sit down uninvited at our table.

"We thought we'd join you," says the unspeakable mother. "The place is

so

crowded, and we certainly didn't want to have to share a table with any of

them

."

"Waving their arms around and jabbering away, and not a word of English," explains her awful daughter. "I know they can't help it, but

please

. . ."

The daughter's husband, who's really only awful because he lets them get away with it, has managed to grab the seat next to my wife. He's been surreptitiously checking her out all week, much to her amusement. Today, he and the awful ones are supposed to fly out.

The waiter arrives to take their order. As usual, the women are rude. My wife has finished her coffee and is giving me an urgent let's-get-out-of-here look. Then she suddenly smiles to herself, sits back, and asks the waiter for another cappuccino. She winks at me.

The awful women begin to hold forth loudly about the rampant dishonesty and poor hygiene of the natives. My wife appears to be terribly interested. I see the husband abruptly stiffen and his eyes go wide. I notice my wife's hand has disappeared under the table. The husband is looking, in fact, a lot like someone whose fly has been unzipped, and whose dick is being fiddled with. The awful wife and the unspeakable mother are, as usual, unaware of anything but the sound of their own voices. They drone on and on.

The husband appears to be paralyzed. He has his juice glass in a death grip and his eyes are now completely unfocused. My wife, on the other hand, is the picture of innocence as she nods agreement with something the awful wife has just said. The husband tenses, closes his eyes, and lets out a tiny yip.

"What did you say, Charles?" asks the unspeakable mother, but he seems to be momentarily incapable of speech. My wife's hand reemerges from under the table; she starts to wipe it on a napkin, then reconsiders. She stands.

"We really must be going," she says to the unspeakable mother, and reaches out to shake her hand. The unspeakable mother takes my wife's hand; a look of revulsion slowly crosses her face. "It's been so nice to get to know you both," my wife says to the awful daughter, and reaches out for

her

hand. She and the awful daughter shake; the daughter grimaces.

"Yes, so nice," I say, struggling to keep it together. Hand in sticky hand, my wife and I stroll briskly out the door, and into the day. ***

September

There's a strange car in the driveway when I pull in. I've been away on business for five days, and my flight was so late I wasn't even sure my wife would still be up. Instead, it looks as though someone's here. Who could be visiting at this hour?

I come in through the kitchen. On the island are bottles of gin and tonic, and a cutting board with the remains of a lime. Otherwise, no signs of life. I continue on to the living room. Still no one, but isn't

this

interesting: on the coffee table are three mostly empty glasses, and a pair of panties--tiny, smoky blue, trimmed in lace--that are definitely not my wife's. Here and there on the floor are other articles of clothing, including a skimpy bra that matches the panties, a thong that

is

my wife's, and a pair of men's boxers. I'm aware now of sounds from above; I head for the stairs.

Through the open bedroom door, I see that we indeed have company. My wife is enthusiastically being fucked doggy-style by a young stranger; behind him, a small, very attractive young woman is simultaneously fingering herself and fondling his balls. They all look up as I enter the room.

"Honey, I'm hoooome," I announce. I indicate her playmates. "Friends of yours?"

"Oh hey, baby, you're

here

!" my wife exclaims, and climbs off the bed to give me a hug and a warm kiss. The guy is left with his large, glistening erection waving forlornly in the breeze. The girl slithers around and swallows most of it.

"This is Nick and Heather," my wife explains. "They're your welcome-home surprise, but it got so late we kind of started without you." I run my hands over my wife's naked body. Her nipples are hard, her inner thighs are slippery, and, as always when she's recently had a cock in her, she smells delicious. I look over her shoulder at our guests.

"Pleased to meet you," I say. "Mighty glad you could stick around." Heather comes up for air, and we get acquainted. It seems that Nick just started student teaching at my wife's school. The two of them hit it off, and Nick and Heather invited my wife out for drinks the day I left on my trip. As the alcohol flowed, they discovered more and more they had in common, until, as Heather smilingly puts it, "we all stopped dancing around and agreed our favorite hobby is getting laid by other people." Plans were then made to welcome me home properly.

As late as it is, my cock is signaling that it's totally ready to help Heather with her hobby. She's blonde, with big green eyes and a mouth just made for sin. She may be small, but she's lush, with bouncy, generous breasts and a lovely round ass. She can't be more than 22. As we've been talking, she's been casually stroking her husband's prodigious dick, but now she hands it off to my wife, who uses it to gently pull Nick back down onto the bed.

Heather snuggles up against me and gazes at me expectantly with those big green eyes. I put my arms around her and hold her close, rubbing my erection against her belly. She rubs back. "You know the best cure for jet lag, don't you?" she says softly.

"No, what?"

She's unbuttoning my shirt. "You take off your clothes and let a strange naked woman lie on top of you."

"Really? How strange?" I ask. Her other hand is working on my belt.

"You'll see . . ."

It doesn't happen quite like that. When she's through undressing me, Heather falls back onto the bed, opening her thighs and revealing the most perfect little pussy you ever saw. I bury my face in it, savoring the nectar between the plump, baby-smooth lips, and tonguing her aroused clit. She isn't in the mood for much foreplay, though: she wants to fuck. Reaching down, she pulls me up and into her.

Since my wife and I started our adventures, our partners have been closer to our age, and I've forgotten how it is with a 22-year-old. It's like the difference between college ball and the pros: the older players may know more tricks, but the kids have all the raw energy and exuberance. Below me, Heather is bucking and wriggling, and her hands are all over me. She's a talker, too: "Oh god, yes!" "Harder, you bastard!" "Touch me there." "So good, lover . . ." "Ooooo yes, do it,

fuck me

!"

Beside us, my wife is grinding away on top of Nick. I reach over and cup her breast. She shoots me a quick, distracted smile, then leans forward, taking Nick's face in her hands and putting her tongue in his mouth. They come noisily within a few seconds of each other. Heather and I aren't far behind.

For the next couple of hours, we play. My wife seems to be quite taken with Nick, and he with her, as she proceeds to coax four orgasms out of him. I lose count of hers. I manage three with Heather, who likes it every which way and could probably go all night.

As they're getting dressed, my wife invites Heather and Nick to next month's swing at Alex and Marielle's. They eagerly accept. After some farewell fondling, they leave for home. My wife and I turn off the lights and head back to the bedroom to change the sheets. During our shower, she seems preoccupied. We climb back into bed.

"Nice party," I say, taking her in my arms. "Thanks, baby."

"Mmmm," she says dreamily. She gives me a peck on the cheek, and turns over. In a minute, she's asleep.

***

October

I lie back on the cushions and survey the action elsewhere in the room as Marielle, our hostess, licks the last drops of semen from my softening penis.

Alex, her husband, is lying spooned against Molly and is giving it to her from behind. She, in turn, has her arms around Angie, Zeke's wife. They're kissing and playing with each other's breasts. Across the room, Heather is impaled on Zeke's fat cock--he's holding her by the waist and bouncing her up and down on it as if she were weightless. She seems to have a lot to say to him, but I can't hear what. Nearby, Paul stirs, and rolls off Lainie. She lies there with her legs spread wide; his semen trickles out of her. The two of them watch their spouses, Pete and Carly, who have just beckoned Will, Molly's husband, over to have his cock sucked by Carly while Pete continues to feast on her pussy.

My wife and Nick enter the room hand-in-hand. They were each other's first partners of the evening, then he was with Carly while my wife was with Paul and Alex. Now they're together again.

Marielle snuggles up next to me. We watch as my wife and Nick collapse onto the cushions across the way, and begin slowly, sensually caressing one another. My wife is gazing into his eyes; every so often they exchange a long, soft kiss. Usually, having two or three guys in a row turns my wife into a sex machine--she wouldn't normally be taking her time like this.

She gently puts her hand on his cheek and whispers something to him. Nick looks surprised and murmurs something in response. My wife shakes her head and smiles, then rolls onto her back. Grabbing an extra cushion, Nick tucks it under her ass, then kneels between her legs. My wife pulls her knees back, and taking his erection in her hand, she slides it up and down her cleft until it's good and slick. Then, she presses the tip against her rosebud.

Marielle takes my hand and gives me a quick, worried look: everybody knows that my wife and I don't do anal with others. My wife has Nick by the hips now. She pulls him to her, and his penis gradually disappears into her ass. She gives out a low, raw moan that cuts through the other sounds of lovemaking in the room like a knife.

Marielle squeezes my hand. "I think maybe you have a problem, cheri," she says.

She's right. We definitely have a problem. My wife is letting this kid fuck her in the ass. She's gone way over the line . . .

October--Three Days Later

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Oh . . . Hi."

"Babe, I really screwed up. I see that now. I am so, so sorry."

"And I suppose you want to come home."

"Yes, I do. For one thing, my sister's driving me nuts."

"Too bad. What about Nick?"

"What about him? He was a mistake."

"Before you left, you said it hadn't been anything. It sure looked like something when he was in your ass."

"I know you're angry. You have every right to be."

"But what the fuck was that all about? Are you in love with him?"

"Jesus,

no

! I'm in love with

you

. It was some kind of fucked-up crush. I'm over it. Period."

"Yeah, but

why

? I thought we were in a really good place."

"That's what I've been asking myself. I don't know--I think it had to do with turning 40 next year and here was this cute young guy who had the hots for me, and I know it sounds stupid, but it was like maybe he could make me young again, too."

"You're right--that's

incredibly

fucking stupid. You're the sexiest and most interesting woman in any room you walk into precisely because of who you are right now. You don't need some kid with a wooden dick to somehow turn back the clock for you."

"I know, baby. What I need is you. I want to come home."

"Oh, shit . . . I'm still so pissed at you, but I guess I want that, too. We have a whole lot to fix, though."

"I know. I've been thinking it might be easier to do if we stopped swinging."

"Yeah, this has sure taken the magic out of that. And it wasn't as if we ever really

needed

those other people."

"I love you so much. Thank you. I'll be there soon."

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm leaving right now. Bye."

"Bye."

***

November

I arrive home from work to find my wife perched on the kitchen island, waiting for me. She's still in her schoolteacher clothes, but with her blouse unbuttoned and a nipple peeking out. She's smiling, and twirling something on one finger; as I get closer, I realize it's her panties. She slowly pulls her skirt up, and opens her long legs. I unzip, and slide into her. She puts her arms around my neck and we kiss, tongues straining.