One of my dearest friends in this university community is my neighbor Celia Rosenthal, who has been in charge of hospitality programs for international students. For the past several years she had grown to count on my husband Garth and me to befriend particular foreign students, whom we would entertain from time to time. Three years ago after our Chinese "girl" had graduated, at Celia's September tea I was introduced to our assignee for the yearâa twenty-year-old German lad, just enrolled in the Engineering School, named Wolfgang Heinrich.
The slightly self-conscious carriage of his six-foot-three height--arms adangle, large hands adrift--was immediately arresting. The range of his supple strength affected me sexually. The long blond hair, brushing his shoulders, was lovelier than any girl's. His steady eyes were of the blue of clearest skies and the wide mouth, sensuous. Wolf was most attractive in his own right, but what accounted for the tingling sensation which warmed and moistened my vagina was his resemblance to the novelist William Faxon, with whom I had had a steamy affair eight years earlier. That summer up in Michigan before Med School I had been a frustrated virgin; and after I had seen and played with his amazingly big cock, I begged him to fuck me, which he did practically every night until the third writing workshop concluded. And, frankly, I loved that big cock and its passionate practitioner; and I have continued to miss them through a subsequent affair and now in my marriage.
My mother said I should marry a doctor. My father said I should be a doctor. I followed their advice to a T. Nonetheless, our sexual inclinations, getting into our thirties, have reduced the enchantment of monogamy of the white picket fence variety. Garth has movie star good looks and is at once an ardent and considerate lover; and, four years ago when we were both twenty-five, we opted to start a family. I went off birth control pills; and, keeping our calendar dutifully, we fucked furiously during the periods of my ovulation; still there seemed there was no way that I could become pregnant. Tests ultimately revealed that Garth is sterile. In the aftermath of this discovery, off the pill and all, my sexual urges have increased. I find myself thinking increasingly about Bill Faxon. Also I have erotic thoughts about Garth and his girl friends, one of whom holds unusual attraction for him even now.
We bring these other people into our sex play through fantasy and find it very stimulating. Garth likes me to tell him about Bill and to show him how I sucked Bill's cock the first night we fucked. And, I admit, I am turned on by hearing how in college he had fucked Sue, the big breasted bi-sexual girl who is now our stock broker. Perhaps I should explain: I've experienced feelings for other women since the summer I became twelve. As a camper I developed a strong crush on my cabin counselor, who also coached tennis. Actually she was a college girl in training to become a Phys. Ed. teacher. She permitted us to call her by her first name, Adele, and we all loved her and considered ourselves lucky to be in her cabin. That she was beautiful, I guess, did factor into her popularity: she was blond with a gorgeous dark tan, long slim legs, and extremely large breasts. I don't know about the other kidsâbut the most deliriously exciting times of my young life were our twice-a-week showers when Adele would herd us into the six-head shower room and be our nude companion for the fifteen-minute periods. To be close to her big bare tits made my maturing vagina feel awfully good. They were so white in contrast to her tan extremities, and perhaps most entrancing was the extent of the wide pale-pink haloes about her nipples. Whenever I was alone, I would masturbate--and always thinking about Adele's lovely tits. Afterwards in school and college I sought the friendship of buxom girls. I guess the diagnosis would be that I was intensely bi-curious, but I had no affairs with women until age twenty-eight when Garth and I became intimately involved with our Chinese girl. Consequently, knowing of Sue's gay inclinations makes Garth's attraction to her pleasant to contemplate, and my lust for her is such that I have openly fantasized about her joining us in bed.
And this new development--that Celia had picked us to be Herr Heinrich's American family--brought another even more promising principal into my fantasy world. It had been love at first sight: I very much wanted to suck his cock. As we got to know each other, my wild attraction continued to be held within as I performed as Wolf's congenial hostess. Very clearly he was the nicest of people; our friendship waxed beyond the superficial; and even during his first year at the University, spurred by my cravings, I hatched an exciting plot that Garth bought into: Wolfgang could realize considerable savings his final two years were he to occupy one of our spare bedrooms in return for occasional domestic chores. That plan appealed to Wolf, especially as his side quest of learning about America had been frustrated by the pale routines of dormitory life, and he accepted with relish our invitation to share our childless home.
Wolf's company richly rewarded our hospitality. Whereas his physical beauty in the beginning as an adjunct to our sex lives was a matter of our imaginationsâespecially rampant in mine--his help in the kitchen was great; and he became an instant squash buddy for Garth. He joins us at breakfast and dinner and assumes, with our encouragement, the status of family. He has been fascinated by the ways of politics in America and has precipitated some spirited discussions. In return we ourselves had a short course on German culture and heritage. Wolf is particularly versed in the life and works of Johan Wolfgang von Goethe, of whom he was proud to be the namesake. That early Romantic German had wide-ranging interests and talents, which inspired Wolf to seek from life even further returns than the recompense of a mechanical engineer. Even as a lover of women Goethe had excelled, and with glowing admiration during dinner one evening, Wolf cited the poet's romantic relations in his twenties with an older, married womanâCharlotte Von Stein.
At this point in the conversation Garth made the animated observation that a young man would be lucky to have the mentoring of a sexy mature woman, saying that he would wish such for his own son, if he had one. "And, Wolf," he brazenly advanced, "might you not appreciate having some intimate counsel from a mature American wife, such as Marie? Let's seeâyou're twenty-one. I'd say, at thirty she would qualify as an attractive tutor."
Wolfgang blushed deeply. "Garth!" I admonished, "I may have to send you to bed without any dessert! Furthermore," I added, maintaining a light touch in my feigned consternation, "if Wolf and I have an affair, you'll not earn the match-maker's commission."
