This is mainly true, somewhat embellished but precipitated by real events in our past. All this happened during that happy time of free love, in the days after The Pill freed women (and couples) from fear of pregnancy, and before AIDS and other STDs made everyone fear sex without wearing hazmat suits.
We were not quite married when this happened. We were not quite engaged, even. We were living together and got married the next year. I learned about these events shortly after they happened. I will try to relate to you what she told me about her activities. I remember what she said quite keenly because it was so erotic at the time. We had played with others, a threesome here and there, but she had not cut loose with reckless passion as she did in this incident. I was fairly astonished by this tale, and thrilled and delighted, too. Who doesn't want to hear about his woman -- his honey, now his wife -- so burning with lust that she fucks with real abandon, takes all comers! Here's what happened, as she told me about it.
I had to go out to the Coast the week before Christmas. Oh, rats. We were going to have a couple parties, host one and go to another. The place was already decorated and the food and wine already bought. She had started to prepare a fancy dinner for us, a private evening for just us before the party on the weekend, and was very disappointed when I left that morning. Yes, she would still have the party, maybe somewhat reduced in size, and hated that I would not be there.
I was gone for almost a week. When I got back, and we were in bed cuddling, she told me about her adventures. I will try to capture most of this as she told me. The dialog isn't accurate, but the sense is there. She doesn't want to write it down herself, embarrassed or lazy or both.
You should know that we had a slightly open relationship at the time, not a completely open one. There were several occasions when the two of us became three by adding another man to please her, and rarely one of us played with or even went to bed with someone else, usually when we were apart for a while on business trips, family visits, or whatever. We were entirely hetero, just a little loose around the edges, played around a lot, screwed around a little.
So I was not the least upset, or even much surprised, when she told me that she had had a little fun while I was away. I was very turned on by it. It always excited me to hear how she got excited with men, how she got so sexually involved and got carried away and went further than she intended. She has told me about a lot of her prior sexual adventures before we met. That was a fun tradition we had in bed the first few years. This is one of her wild contemporary experiences that I didn't witness. I always wanted to know how she got felt up, or fingered, or fucked.
What a wonderful thing, to know that your woman can be so consumed with lust that she just does what feels good! We guys are always accused of thinking with our little heads. I loved knowing that she would sometimes do the same, think with her little man in the boat. "If it moves, fondle it!" was the watchword of the time. How much fun she had this time made me crazy horny when she told me, and still does.
This is more or less as she told it to me. I tried not to interrupt her too often. We were in bed, cuddling, feeling each other, playing, even screwing, while all this was being related. You'll see.
--------------------- (Her story)
When you got called away like that, in the middle of the day, and for the whole weekend we had planned, I was really bummed. I had started to prepare a fancy, romantic dinner for us. Fancy French, candles, champagne, the whole bit. It wouldn't keep, and I wasn't going to eat it alone, so I asked Jonathan from the office to join me. So he came over after work and we had dinner, amid the apartment covered with Christmas decorations, with the candles, the white wine first, the red wine with the beef, lots of wine.
We got up to dance, both a little plastered but able to hold each other up. As we passed through the archway to the living room, he noticed the mistletoe on the arch and kissed me. It was nice. I was pissed at you for being away and feeling sorry for myself, so I kissed him back. And we kissed again, really kissed this time. So we danced and kissed some more and I opened up a dessert wine, too. I was leaning against the wall of the archway drinking my wine, and he kissed me again. Only this time, his hand came up from my waist to my breast. I was a little shocked, I'm sure I gasped and flinched, but I didn't really want to remove his hand. I wanted a man's hands on me that night, so I didn't object, just enjoyed the sensation as he fondled me. When he pinched my nipple, the sensation went straight down to my panties. I moaned my pleasure as we kissed. You know how it makes me jump when you play with my nipples like that. I guess I was a little hornier than I thought. We finished our wines, moved to the sofa, and started making out seriously. I didn't want to stop. I was wishing that you were there with me, but you weren't. Love the one you're with, right?
("Did he instigate it, or did you? Did you go further with him?")
Yes, I went further. We went a lot further. He sort of seduced me, but I admit I was very willing. I was eager, even. I wanted to play. This was fun. Relax, I'll tell you. (We were lying in bed, so I started to fondle her breast seriously to go along with the story.)
We kissed with growing passion, held each other tight and ran our hands all over each other. He unbuttoned my dress -- I still had on my clothes from work -- and got into my bra. I felt his back and his butt and eventually worked around to his crotch to feel his hardness. He felt up my leg, up under my dress, way up, cupped my pussy. I opened my legs to let him know he was welcome there. I was hot by that time, I pushed my pussy up into his hand, he pressed harder into me. Even through my pantyhose and panties I could feel his fingers separating my lips and pressing into me. He ran his hand up to my waist and got inside the pantyhose. Oh, god, he's going to get into me. His fingers are hot on my belly. He moves down inside my bikinis. I can feel him tickling my fur. His fingers slide between my lips, I jump when he scrapes my clit. It feels wet, he slides up and down, and oh, he pushes his finger into me! Go in, go in! Come into my cunt! I'm hot and wet and waiting! Come in! He pushed in and out, in and out, scraping my red hot clit, a jolt to my womb, with each stroke. And I came. I came hard. My pelvis reached for his hand. My muscles grabbed onto his fingers and pulled them into me, once, twice, more, again, again. . . .
("You came on his fingers? Still dressed? You were that horny? My horny honey!" She only uses the c-word when she is very turned on. She was dripping that night, apparently, and she was beginning to drip some more while talking about it.)
Yes, sweetie, I guess I was hornier than I thought. I'm sorry, are you upset? I really wanted it. I thought you'd like it that I was such a horny bitch. I thought you'd be turned on. Oh, I see you are.