My wife, Sara, and I had returned to my Alma Mater for Homecoming. Of course, the Alpha Chi Alpha guys were throwing a huge party and invited all the Alumni, and I was looking forward to a proper college party after a year and a half of real life. The homecoming party always got real crazy, and both Sara and I enjoyed pushing our comfort zones.
Sara and I had lived in the same apartment building when I first graduated, next door neighbors with adjoining balconies, and had met in late June the weekend after I moved in. I'd been admiring my view of the city when a gorgeous female voice with a tinge of hoarseness to it piped up.
"You must be my new neighbor. I'm Sara. Need a beer?"
I glanced over and, in the fading light, had to stop myself from gawking. She stood about five-one, was fit and toned, wearing skintight black yoga pants, a sleeveless pink mesh crop top and a white sports bra. Her dirty blond hair was in a messy ponytail, she had plump pink lips, a button nose, and blue-green eyes that hinted at mischief and curiosity. I was struck.
Her yoga pants clung to the gentle curves of her obviously toned legs and ended just below her hip bones and belly button. The crop top came down to the middle of her ribs, showing off toned abs and a sculpted midsection.
The crop top was made of a tight but transparent mesh, and was somewhat form fitting and clung in places to the white sports bra underneath that accentuated her ample breasts. I'd soon learn that they were 32C's and were very perky with little sag.
I accepted the beer happily. Free beer is good, and being one of my favorite local microbrews made it great. We'd chatted a couple evenings in a row, and she was always in workout clothes. After the third evening, decided to go out with no shirt and basketball shorts to catch her reaction.
I'm 6'2, short black hair and facial stubble, with brown eyes, and in great shape myself from college sports and a gym habit. And she was checking me out far more shirtless than she had been when I was in my usual polo and khakis I wore to work.
I invited her over, and from there we quickly progressed from casually flirty neighbors to FWB's to a full blown couple. In that time I learned she was 23, a year older than me, a personal trainer and gymnastics coach, and had a near-inexhaustible sex drive and several kinks.
She particularly loved giving blowjobs and swallowing, being much smaller than her partner, being vocal in the bedroom, and sharing her partner with her gymnastics friends. We had a number of FMF threesomes that were absolutely Incredible. I offered MMF's in return but she declined. She preferred to focus on just one penis.
Her biggest kink was exhibitionism. She got to explore that in our threesomes by watching and being watched. If she was fucking in front of an audience, she got way more into it.
Sex with Sara was far better than any I'd had before. She was far more experienced than I, and declared my 7-inch length and 5-inch girth to be "just about perfect". I had to be (and was) willing to submit to regular blowjobs, and was expected to perform feats of strength during sex with Sara as the weight. She loved fucking standing up, her arms around my neck and my arms hooked under her legs.
The first three months were a whirlwind of wonderfulness, and I proposed. She accepted, and six months after, we were married in late February. Neither of us were the particularly jealous type, and she insisted that we make an agreement that sex with others was fine as long as the other partner was present and didn't put a stop to it. In the six months since we'd been married, I had utilized that clause three times after various threesomes we'd had with other women, and she hadn't taken advantage of it at all.
We'd arrived in town earlier that afternoon and deposited our things in our hotel room and headed to campus. I met up with some other friends who had also graduated last year, introduced Sara and met some of their girlfriends - some new, and some I knew from school already. The party would be starting around 7, so we had a few hours to kill.
Dinner at a local restaurant and a tour of campus took us til just after 6, so we headed back to our hotel room to change for the party. Sara insisted on sucking me off, which I happily allowed.
I put on a school basketball jersey over a white t-shirt and basketball shorts, my standard party attire, while Sara changed into a form-fitting, Asia-inspired and multicolor sarong dress that showed off all her curves perfectly. The fabric was very thin, and anywhere there was only one layer over her skin it was partially transparent.
We headed to the party and arrived around 7:15. I happily greeted my old frat brothers and introduced them to Sara. Then we met a couple of the new members from the last year whom I hadn't yet met. I was regaling them with stories about my time in college when a huge hand clapped onto my shoulder. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Sara, and turned.
"Holy shit, Eric," she said, "You never told me you knew John Austin!"
John Austin was 7'1, lanky, lean, and heavily muscled. He was biracial and insanely handsome. His skin was a dark golden brown, with tight dark blond curls, a chiseled face, and deep-set blue-green eyes. We had been on the basketball team together, with John one year ahead of me. The one year we played together had been amazing. I had been the starting point guard, and John and I had made one incredible team. He had nicknamed me "The Passmaster". John had ultimately declared eligible for the NBA draft after that, his sophomore year, and was consistently rated one of the top 5 players in the NBA.
"Holy shit, Sara," John said, mocking Sara's shocked tone, "You never told me you knew Eric Baynes!"
Sara was unfazed and grabbed my left arm and lifted it toward John. She tapped her wedding band on mine and raised an eyebrow at John. "More than a girlfriend, mister," she chided.
John put his hands up, "Whoa, point taken," he said jokingly, "I'll make sure not to hit on your man anymore."
Sara smirked, "See to it that you don't."
"Do you know each other?" I asked.
"We were at school together our freshman year," Sara explained. I screwed up my face and looked weird at both of them.
"Dude, you know I transferred here, right?"
"Yeah," I said, "But I never - oh, you were both at SoCal. I never even made that connection."
"Right," Sara began, "John and I were... very good friends that year." and she blushed. This made me a little uncomfortable, but I did my best not to show it.
We chatted with John for another 20 minutes or so, and he and Sara continued with playful, flirty comments. A couple other Alumni and fraternity members pulled me aside to discuss what was planned for the rest of the evening since I'd missed the planning meeting the day before. I kept glancing at Sara and John as we talked, and they were still animatedly chattering away, laughing and making a lot of big exaggerated movements.
I watched Sara point to her leg and then John's arm. She pulled her dress up to her hip, flashing her toned and tanned right leg and indicated his arm again. John nodded, and put his beer down on the countertop next to them and then in one motion, scooped Sara up and placed her effortlessly up onto his right shoulder. I heard Sara squeal as he did this. Her dress was now hanging off both legs and dangling in front of John's chest.
I excused myself from the conversation and headed back over to them. Sara had her left arm around John's head for balance, and I could see her fiddling with John's hair. John's right arm was up around Sara's waist and resting on her upper left thigh, and his thumb was dangled down between her legs, rubbing back and forth, dangerously close to her panties. Sara's face was flush from having already had a beer - she was a serious lightweight - and her eyes had this far away look in them. As I got closer, she focused on me and her face lit up.
"Eric," she said excitedly, "Look at this - his arm is bigger than my leg!"
"I see," I said, not sure where she was going with this. Music had started up, and I wanted to get her away from John. I had never thought of myself as the jealous type, and had readily consented to Sara's sex-with-others agreement as such because I figured it would never be an issue for me. I wondered if I had done that because I secretly suspected she'd never act on it. It also made me uncomfortable that John was clearly an old flame. Would she have stayed with him if he hadn't transferred?
I didn't see John as a simple sexual distraction. I saw him as competition. As a threat. Everything Sara told me she loved about me, John had more.
As the evening wore on, a DJ arrived. He played some music and we danced. Sara had met some of the Alumni girlfriends and wives and was thankfully chatting with them instead of John, and about an hour later, the DJ announced that they'd be starting some games. Our games almost always turned dirty and our parties had a notoriety for devolving into orgies.
He announced several rounds of beer pong, and then a game of strip musical chairs, where everyone cheered because a couple girls lost their tops. Then he announced a game called The Opposites Challenge. This was an annual favorite, and was often the catalyst for the parties devolving. He asked for eight tall men and eight short women to partner up. Seemed fewer women than when I had been a student were willing to risk public nudity for a little cash.
Sara was a little tipsy, and only seven girls had gone up. John was one of the guys up front, and he caught my eye and indicated Sara with a raised eyebrow.
I patted her perfect ass to get her attention.
"Babe, they need one more girl. You're tiny. Want to go up?"
"Are you sure?" She asked, "I've told you how I get in front of others. I won't hold back. And I had to win." I smiled and shrugged.
