We had always spoken of taking risks. Turning each other on with fantasies which I believe neither one of us would really try. As the years rolled by, one fantasy in particular seemed to be brought up more frequently than any other. Her and I with another man. I know, most men fantasize about two women, but for some reason, call it the voyeur in me, the thought of watching my wife with someone else, while I was still able to take part, turned me on to no end. And from her reactions to those fantasies, I could tell it turned her on as well.
We're both in our late thirties, and keep ourselves in pretty good shape, although Claire, my wife, is a fitness fanatic. I'm not complaining, mind you, Claire is in incredible shape, looking as good, if not better, now than she did when we first met over ten years ago. Most people believe she is still in her twenties.
I had been at this one company for several years, and had made quite a few business acquaintances over during that time. But there was one guy who my wife simply drooled over. Rick was a little over six feet, about 190 pounds, and kept himself in great shape. Dark hair, kept a little on the longish side, with an olive complexion and pale blue eyes. He was quite a hit with the ladies. The best part was that he had no idea how good looking he was.
A few times a month, my wife and I plan evenings alone together. Private time, supposedly just for the two of us. This one particular night was no different from countless others, at least it started out that way.
We had planned this evening all week, which when you have kids, is sort of a necessity. Our children were with my Mother, so we could have the house to ourselves all evening. As planned, I pulled up in our driveway just past sunset. The sky was just beginning to change from that light blue of sunset's afterglow, to the darker indigo of the night sky. Instead of heading inside, I walked around the back, around the pool and to the side of the house where the master bedroom lies.
The warm night air of an April night in Arizona drifted across my face, perfect shirtsleeve weather. I settled into a lawn chair facing the French doors to the bedroom. Also as planned. What Claire is unaware of, not part of our, but part of my, plan is that Rick settled himself into the chair next to mine. He whispered to me, "Are you sure about this?"
I opened the ice chest I placed there and hand him a beer, opened my own. I took a sip. My pulse began to race slightly in anticipation of what was going to happen. I merely nodded back to him, then wanted to make sure he remembered what I had told him earlier, "But if she ever tells us to stop, we do. Immediately. Understood?"
"Sure," he said smiling, toasting me with his beer, "Your game. Your rules."
"Did you put on the cologne I gave you?"
"Yup. Can't you tell?"
I smiled, "Not yet, at any rate."
We turned our attention back to the darkened bedroom. Claire entered a short time later, flicking the light on. With the interior light on, I knew she could not see into the night filled yard, while we had a perfect view of the entire bedroom. She was drinking her favorite: white zinfandel. Dressed as she was when we both left for work that morning, she put some music on the CD player. Swaying lightly to the music, she began to undress. First the blazer came off, the thin fabric of her camisole barely concealing her large breasts. Next, she unzipped the side of her pleated skirt, shimmied it to the floor.
She knew that I, at least, was watching and was putting on a great show, swaying to the music, letting it fill her as she moved to its beat. She was now only wearing thigh high stockings, thong underwear, her camisole and heels, and she crossed to the dresser to take a sip of wine. She put the wine down, reached low and grabbed the hem of her camisole, slowly raising it over her head. Her large, brown nipples were hard, her aereolas contracted tightly, raising the nipples higher. She took another sip of wine, then swayed sexily into the bathroom, out of our line of sight.
Rick drained his beer. "She has an amazing body."
I smiled, knowingly. "She does, doesn't she?" I paused to sip my beer, relishing the possible moment of discovery about to come. "We should move back into the shadows a bit." Rick takes another beer, opening it as we stood and stepped back into the shadows of the mesquite tree by the woodpile.
A moment later, she came back into room, wearing a short yellow silk robe. Placing the wine on a night-table, she crossed to the French doors, opening them to the night. Santana's "Smooth" drifted out of the door, as she sways her hips to the beat. This is the one possible moment of discovery. She peered out into the darkness, knowing I was there, looking for me, without seeming to. But the night's shadows provided sufficient cover. She slid the screen closed, keeping the insect invaders from attempting a beachhead.
The music continues. As does her dance. I finish my beer and open another. Claire is now solely dancing for what she thinks is my pleasure alone. As she reaches the middle of the room, she turns away from the doors, her fabulous ass barely covered by her short robe. I turned to Rick. "I'll signal you when to come in. Make sure you're ready."
"I'm ready right now," he grinned back at me.
"You know what I'm talking about."
He clapped me on the shoulder. I headed for the doors. Claire krpt her back to them, as planned. I picked up the few items I'd left in place on the patio, then quietly slid the screen open. It made no sound, nor should it after the oiling I had given it the night before. Fully in the room, I appreciate the beauty before me.
"Don't move," I said quietly.
She started, surprised. "What...?"
"Don't say a word. I'm not here to hurt you." This was a game we'd played many times before. She began to turn towards me. "I said, don't move."
