Cristina

"Did you ever think about having sex with another woman?"

I almost did a spit take of my coffee across the breakfast table. As it was, I choked, and it was almost a full minute before I regained my breath enough to speak.

Marigold didn't wait for an answer. "See, I knew it."

"No, wait, what? I just... your question shocked me, that's all." It was, in my defense, right out of the blue, no context at all. "Where did that come from?"

"I was just wondering if you ever thought about having sex with someone else?"

"You literally never asked me that before. Wait, have you been thinking of sex with another man? Because there wouldn't be anything wrong with that if you did."

"No, I haven't. But your answer tells me you don't think there would be anything wrong with your thinking about it... and you're right, there wouldn't be. We've been together more than 20 years, after all. It would be normal."

"Okay, we'll agree that it's normal. And, full disclosure, I may have fantasized a few times, but not--" (I knew she would start asking me about who I had fantasized about)--"not with anyone we know. Just random thoughts. I'm not dead, you know."

"Yes, I do know that." She smiled a little. It was no secret that I was usually more often in the mood than she was, even though, earlier in our relationship, she had often been the more adventurous one.

"What brought this on, anyway? You never said anything like this before."

"I was having lunch with the girls... " (these were a couple of her college friends she'd stayed in touch with, and they used to get together periodically at a central location) "and Dora started talking about it."

Dora was the wild one of the group. She'd been sort of a slut back in college, and it sounded like she hadn't tamed down all that much, though she had been married--the second time now--for six or seven years.

"Dora, huh? What did she say?" Part of me was intrigued. Usually, Marigold dismissed Dora's stories as either outright fabrications, or her refusal to "grow up" after college. So if something Dora said or did piqued her interest, I was curious.

"Well, Seth had always bugged her about doing a threesome, which she said is a pretty persistent male fantasy." She looked at me expectantly, but I said nothing and tried to keep a poker face. When I didn't respond, she went on. "She kept saying she wasn't interested, but after awhile she realized she'd been thinking of what it would be like to watch him have sex with another girl. You remember that they went to strip clubs a couple of times when they were dating, and he'd had a lap dance once while she was with him, after she'd gotten pretty drunk and egged him on about it. She realized that the memory of the dance kind of turned her on, watching him, though of course, he wasn't allowed to touch her back. She wondered what it would be like to watch him actually have sex." She paused.

"Okay, so what happened?"

"Well, to make a long story short, she found out about an escort service, and they hired a girl."

"So did they do it? They had sex with her?" I was interested in the story itself at this point, but still wondering what implications it had for us.

"They did, and she said it was really hot. She didn't... participate, at least not directly. She had thought she'd be jealous, but the more she thought about it, leading up to it, the more turned on she was. She wanted to see it. More than that, she wanted him to tell her about it, describe what he was feeling. She was so excited, she, uh, she touched herself while they were doing it. She said she had one of the best orgasms of her life, and she came a second time, after she paid the girl to do it with him again. She said they've had a lot more sex since."

"So are they going to do this again?"

"We asked her that, but she said, no, she didn't think so. She thinks it was a one-off, but she said when they have sex, sometimes she'll ask him to imagine he's fucking that girl, who called herself Misty, but of course that's a made-up name. She'll say things like, 'imagine it's Misty you're fucking. It's her pussy you're feeling.'"

I was captivated by this narrative. Not only was it pretty erotic on its own merits (the image of Dora masturbating while watching her husband fuck a call-girl was even more erotic than the fucking itself, and my cock stirred in my pants), but I hadn't heard Marigold talk like this in years. She had used the f-word twice--a word she never uses--and even "pussy" was not something she said unless she was pretty turned on. My mind was blown. At the same time, I was afraid to say anything. The story had gotten into Marigold's head, all right, but what did it mean for us?

"Come up to bed," she said.

I wish I could say that I went down on her, which I love to do, and brought her to a screaming, gushing climax and then fucked her senseless, but it wasn't quite like that. When I made a move, she said, "Just lie back... and get your slippery stuff." Sometimes she just liked to do that.

She started stroking me, pausing from time to time for me to refresh the lube. She used different grips, as usual, some of which were more "realistic" than others. She still hadn't said anything about what we'd talked about downstairs. After awhile, she reached for my hand, placed it on my cock, with her hand over it. This had evolved over the course of our time together. Once, I was just not getting off, because her grip or her rhythm weren't doing the job, and I'd started guiding her hand. But she liked it better when my hand was on my cock, and her hand was over mine. And sometimes she'd take her hand off mine and stroke my balls or the lower part of my shaft. It turned her on to watch me, even though, to my great disappointment, she never returned the favor and let me watch her.

Now, she lifted her hand, and started caressing my balls and my inner thighs, leaving me to stroke myself. She finally spoke. "I bet you'd like it if I did what Dora did."

I was not about to reply to that, but my cock twitched, and she noticed it. "Would you like that, to fuck someone while I watched?" I tried to stifle a moan, and failed. "Some young pussy, maybe, a tight young thing." I had to slow down my stroking or I would have cum right then, and I wanted to see how far she would go with this.

"Wouldn't you like that?" A loaded question. I kept silent.

She continued fantasizing, caressing my balls, and the bottom of my shaft, looking dreamy. "I bet you would... but not a hooker, though. Geez, Dora is still such a slut. No, I wouldn't want to see you with a whore."

Okay, still not anything needing any comments from me, which would only screw up her fantasy, which I admit, I was starting to get into.

She continued. "It would have to be someone we knew...." This was an obvious trap. She wanted to see if there was someone I secretly lusted after and might blurt out in a moment of weakness as I got more aroused. There was no way I was falling for that!

"Hmmm. Who could it be? None of my friends, because they're old, like me." (I didn't think Marigold was old, and I still desired her, a lot.) "Although," she continued, "Dora is enough of a slut that she would probably do it, but I wouldn't want to see that, for sure. Her escapades in the college dorms were more than enough."

"I know I don't satisfy you enough. It's not that I don't want to... I just don't have your libido. So maybe you need an outlet, maybe, just once, to see what it was like." Here she was alluding to the fact that she was more experienced sexually than I was. I have to confess here that I had almost no sexual experience before I met Marigold. Technically, I had been a virgin. And I had never cheated on her, so, Marigold was the only woman I had ever fucked. And as I got older, I was determined not to cheat on her, but I would often fantasize about what it would be like.

To put it more bluntly and crudely, what would another pussy feel like, smell like, taste like? Marigold had felt other cocks inside her. I'd never felt what it was like to be inside another pussy.

"Hmm. It would have to be someone nice. Someone I could trust. Someone I wouldn't be jealous of. Someone with a nice tight young pussy." This talk really had me going, and I was getting close. She looked at me, smiled knowingly, and her eyes flashed. "Someone like... Cristina."

At the mention of the name, without speeding up my strokes, I came hard, spattering my chest, and her arm as she leaned over me, with bursts of cum.

Once I had come down, as I was wiping up the mess, I said to Marigold, "You're crazy, do you know that?" Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed, didn't want to think I had the hots for a girl who was becoming more like a sister-in-law. Where would that lead? Would Marigold think I was some kind of perv? How would it affect our own relationship?

"Well the thought must've gotten to you," she said with a smile. "I mean, the evidence--" here she nodded toward the towel I was using, "is obvious."

It was just like her to remind me of her paralegal career.

"There's nothing 'evidentiary' at all. I was about to cum. It's just a coincidence." But she smiled, knowingly. "Look, I don't think of her that way," though that was at least partly a lie, and now the fact that the idea had been spoken out loud, it was starting to grow on me. But I tried to persist. "Besides, what would she see in an old guy like me?"

Well not THAT old, I thought to myself. True, almost twenty years older, but the difference means more at some points in our lives than in others. Such a difference wasn't unheard of in lovers.

Marigold continued. "Don't you remember that she always said how immature Zach was? She talked about it a couple of times. That was her explanation for the way he was, that he had never quite grown up. One time over a glass of wine she told me that if she were ever to try marriage again, she hoped it would be with someone older than her. I know she's lonely, and I've seen the way she sometimes looks at you. Almost... wistfully."

Wistfully. That doesn't sound quite like erotic attraction, but I couldn't help but feel just a little bit flattered. Because Cristina was a good looking woman.

Cristina was the daughter of a former colleague of Marigold's. Cristina's mother, Pam, and Marigold had been paralegals together at a law firm. In fact, Pam had helped train Marigold when she joined the firm. Shortly after Cristina had married at 24, her parents moved to Florida. But Cristina's marriage didn't last. Her husband, Zach, had a serious drinking problem, and when drunk, he was mean and abusive. And was hooking up with a former girlfriend. Cristina filed for divorce only four years into the marriage. In the five years since then, Marigold had tried to take an interest in her, especially since Cristina's parents lived so far away. She came over sometimes for dinner, and Marigold would sometimes go shopping or to a movie with her. We were both in our early 50s, so we weren't quite old enough to be Cristina's parents (unless we'd started really young), but she was something like a younger sister.

* * * *

The next time Cristina came over for dinner, it was about a month after our earlier conversation. I tried not to think about it, but found myself looking at Cristina through fresh eyes, so to speak. I had always thought she was cute, but thinking of her more as a sort of sister-in-law or niece had caused any potential erotic feelings to be heavily suppressed. Now that Marigold had unlocked that forbidden door, I saw just how attractive she was with her reddish hair and that very pale skin that some redheads have, with some freckles that came out in the sun. She was on the slim side, but not skinny or bony, with cute, smallish breasts. After the abusive marriage and divorce, she had been very shy and tentative, but I now saw that she had grown much more self-confident. She spoke more and laughed at times, and didn't always keep her eyes downcast.

And despite myself, I was on the alert for any signs of her paying attention to me. Once I walked into the kitchen as Marigold and Cristina were giggling about something and I felt self-conscious, but tried to act casual, and didn't ask what they were laughing about. But I kept wondering, had Marigold said something to her? That wouldn't be like her at all. On the other hand, that whole conversation about Seth and Dora, leading to her wondering about my having sex with another woman, and in turn leading to that climactic moment when she sprung Cristina's name on me while jerking me off (technically I was the one doing the jerking), none of that was much like Marigold at all, so who knew what she might be up to?

Later, after Cristina had left and Marigold and I were getting ready for bed, I wasn't about to mention anything. Then she said, "Sooo, how do you think Cristina looked tonight?" Geez, was she going to do this?

"She looked fine. She always looks nice."

She persisted. "I think she kind of looked hot, don't you?"

How was I supposed to answer that? Yes, and I was more aware of the hotness factor now that the idea of some sort of sexual encounter with Cristina and been brought up... by Marigold! I tried to be noncommittal, as we got into bed. "She is an attractive woman. I've always thought so."

She turned on her side, facing me, and began to stroke my shoulders and chest, non-erogenous zones for me, but the sort of caressing that often signaled readiness for sex, and said, "I think she seems so much more confident now, after getting over that loser. I don't know what he was thinking, being so mean to such a lovely girl. She really needs someone who appreciates her. And she's definitely looking prettier than ever. Did you see how she had fixed her hair? And that top she had on really accentuated her boobs."

I tried to ignore the physical descriptions, even as I was aware that Marigold's hand was beginning to move toward my crotch. "I was just thinking about her self-confidence this evening, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, you were thinking of her self-confidence, were you?" she smiled as her hand had found my lengthening cock.

I didn't answer, and just started stroking her shoulders, and slipping a hand over one of her nipples. It, too, was hard. She leaned further toward me, and kissed me, her tongue sweeping into my mouth as her grip tightened on my cock. I broke the kiss, nuzzled her neck, and as my lips moved across her chest, she pulled down on her nightie, exposing her tit, and I sucked the nipple eagerly. I slid my hand across her belly and over her panties. I could feel the dampness, and when I slid my finders underneath the waistband, she was already wet.

I kept thinking about her emphasis on Cristina's physical charms and the obvious signs of her own arousal. Was this some erotic attraction or some kink I hadn't seen before? Damn, whatever this was that had gotten her going, it was good enough for me!

I could feel that she was eager, and her wetness suggested I could skip past some of the slow buildup that usually characterized our lovemaking. My mouth followed the path my hand had taken across her middle, and I nuzzled her pussy through her panties, and then slid them off. I could smell the musk of her arousal. She lifted her hips slightly to ease the way, and after some light kisses on her labia, during which I sensed her impatience, I was licking her juicy slit. "Oooh, oooh, oooh," she moaned. At one point, she murmured, barely audibly, "Unnhhh... ohhh... do it... eat her out and finger her." Startled, I almost stopped, but luckily didn't miss a lick. Obviously Marigold was lost in a fantasy and this had come out involuntarily.

I concentrated on her clit, first licking very gently and slowly, and then faster, harder, and after less than a minute or two, as soon as I fastened my mouth over her clit and started sucking, like a clitoral French kiss, she started saying, "Oh, keep doing that, keep doing that, keep doing that," each time with increasing urgency. As if I were about to stop doing that! Having a woman cum in my mouth is one of my greatest pleasures.

"Yes, yes, right there, right there, don't stop, I'm... uuunnnnnnnhhhhh," and she spasmed, shaking and shuddering, followed by several aftershocks. I had no sooner pulled off my pajama shorts, preparing to fuck her, when she rolled over, pushed me on my back, and straddled me. She took hold of my cock, rubbed it a few times through her wet lips, and then slipped it inside her. Quickly adjusting herself, once completely impaled on me, she worked her hips forward and back. This was good for her, and also good for me, as there was less friction than if she had been moving up and down. Still, as turned on as I was, I knew I couldn't last long. Amazingly, she reached down and started rubbing her clit, something she almost never did, and it took almost all of my concentration to keep from cumming at the sight.

She leaned back more, still frantically rubbing her clit and I reached up and started to tweak her nipples, noting how sweaty and disheveled she looked, her tits jiggling very fetchingly. It was raw fucking, and when she announced, "Oh, gawd, I think I'm gonna cum again," that was all it took and I exploded violently into her pussy. Luckily, I stayed hard and wasn't overly sensitive, because she kept working her hips and frigging her clit for about another minute before she came again, loudly, before collapsing on my chest.

This was the hottest sex we'd had in years, and I would have to think back to the earliest part of our relationship to recall Marigold ever being that uninhibited.

I wasn't about to say anything about the fact that we'd been talking about Cristina as we got into bed. Something about that girl had gotten into Marigold's head. Whether it was the thought of my having sex with Cristina while she watched, or Marigold had a bi-curious side that I'd never seen before, I didn't know, and I didn't care. It was all good. More than good. Amazing.

****

By the time Cristina came in my mouth, and I could feel the sudden climactic release, the throbbing of her clit between my lips, the contraction of her vaginal walls around my penetrating finger, the sudden increase of her wetness, her fluids coating my hand--by this time, I'd been thinking about that moment for weeks.

There was a buildup to that, of course. I am not a barbarian. And this was quite a few weeks after the time Cristina came to dinner, and Marigold and I fucked like bunnies afterward. Marigold's fantasy of watching me have sex with Cristina, first barely spoken of, gradually came out in the open. She admitted, first very sheepishly and euphemistically, but then more explicitly, that she thought about it a lot. She even hinted, though this she didn't express directly, that she might have masturbated to the thought of it one evening when I had to work late.

Admitting that would have been quite a revelation, but when she told me the next day that she had been thinking of what it would be like to see me with Cristina and that she had gotten really turned on thinking about it, I put two and two together. In my younger and more foolish days, I would have asked her to tell me more, and to tell me what happened, what did she do about it, but I knew Marigold well by now and knew that would cause her to clam up. Plus, maybe kill any progress toward the possibility of making this happen. But the thought of Marigold masturbating about it, fueled my fantasies of seeing her do it while Cristina and I fucked, and I admit I came to that fantasy more than once.

To this day, I don't know what magic Marigold deployed to pull off this arrangement, or how she must have pitched it to Cristina. She wouldn't reveal her secrets, and I wasn't complaining. I knew that Cristina had been lonely since her marriage broke up, but from what Marigold did say, I gathered that she was a horny girl. She had dated sporadically, but having been in an abusive relationship for several years, she wasn't about to let her knickers down for just anyone, and wanted something more than a casual fling. From the implication of a hint from Marigold (who still had some shyness about such things), I surmised that Cristina's usual partners were a few sex toys and her fingers. I was happy to be her toy.