I should warn you that this is a short, but pretty intellectually stimulating treatise on the deep understanding that can exist between a loving couple after several years of marriage.
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"Hey Alan, can you give me a hand in the kitchen for a minute?"
"Sure Mac," I replied, following him, expecting to help carry another crate of beer or something
"Great party isn't it Alan?" he asked, as he fiddled with something in his fridge.
"Sure is," I agreed. "It's Jan and my turn next month at our place."
"Great idea of Beth and Gerry's to have a party every month," he went on, not seeming to be getting far with whatever it was in his fridge.
"That's right Mac. Plenty of beer, good food and good company."
"Plenty of pretty young wives as well eh?" He grinned at me, and he sure wasn't lying. We were a group of mid twenties to late thirties professional couples, with a few sympathetic singles thrown in, all living in roughly the same area of Norfolk, and each month for the last year or so, we'd meet up at one of our houses on a Friday night to drink, eat, socialize and even dance a bit.
"Sure are," I readily agreed, grinning back. Summer was upon us and the girls had made the most of it in some pretty short dresses, tight jeans and skimpy tops.
"Difficult to keep your hands off some them isn't it?" Mac surprised me with. Not that it wasn't sometimes difficult, and very occasionally just too difficult, but it simply wasn't the sort of thing that we spoke about. Nothing serious you understand, mainly just a little bit of ass grabbing.
"Right Mac," I answered not really wanting to go down that avenue.
"I guess you've felt up Angie's ass?" He carried on, and if his previous comment had surprised me, then that one shocked me, and with good reason.
Angie was Mac's wife after all.
Pretty little blonde she was, with big tits and a cheeky smile. She also had a nice backside to go with it, that I had indeed allowed my hands to explore on a couple of occasions. Not too far though and there'd been no complaints from her.
Was I in trouble?
Tim seemed to have forgotten about whatever it was that he was looking for in the fridge, if indeed there ever had been anything, and as men do, I quickly sized him up just in case she'd complained to him and he wanted it out with me.
He didn't worry me too much, so I didn't answer, simply gave an uncommitted shrug of the shoulders.
"Don't worry you aren't the only one Alan," he continued to surprise me. "But I wouldn't suggest you try anything further."
"I wouldn't Mac," I rushed to assure him. "You're a pal, of course I wouldn't."
"Not me you've got to worry about mate," he then laughed. "That's how poor old Ted got that black eye last month."
"Angie?" I gasped.
"It sure was Alan. He tried to grab a boob and got a wallop for his troubles."
"Serves him right," I sympathized.
"No harm done really, but there are plenty of other girls here who are less fussy if that's what you're after."
"There are?" I demanded, now astonished at where this conversation was going. "Like who?"
I should add, that I'd certainly let my arm brush the odd comely breast or two during the past year, but what Tim seemed to be suggesting was outright groping.
"Half of them if you catch them in the right mood," he chatted on. "A few of them are up for it at any time."
"Like who," I repeated. Now I don't want to give the idea that I was trying to find out who with the intention of trying it out myself of course, and who the hell do I think I'm kidding?
