In the early eighties, my wife Jane and I spent a weekend at a hot springs resort in northern California, where nudity at the steaming baths was de rigueur. Jane was a beautiful woman with dipper-shaped breasts and brown nipples. She had a dark hair and at the time it was the fashion to trim your pussy hair into a neat triangle.
Jane loved to rub herself. She often had multiple orgasms—insisted on them. Once, while driving through Wisconsin, she pulled down her pants in the car and rubbed herself to several climaxes while I was driving. I nearly crashed the car when a man in a passing truck slowed down to watch her finger herself.
At the hot springs, we lingered one night after most of the people had gone indoors for dinner. I was already excited from seeing so many naked women, discreetly watching their tits floating languorously within reach on the warm water.
That night, a local man, a north coast hippie with medium length red hair and soft fur covering his chest, belly and legs, arrived late for a soak and a swim. In the light from the lamps, softened from the steam rising from the hot water, he looked beautiful. His penis was long, with a large head. He seemed to pay little mind to us, but I couldn't help wonder if he came her often at the end of the day to show off his body and see if there were any takers.
Jane noticed him. She laid back on her back and slightly parted her legs in a way that made me wonder if she was showing off, or making a little dare with herself. One of her legs remained in the water and the other on the poolside deck. He could see her pussy from where he swam and her lips spread in an inviting way. Her head was thrown back; the curve over her body led the eye to her breasts and her hardened nipples. For many of the women, the warm water flattened their nips, but hers were hard and I wondered why. Was it just the cooler air? I caught her glancing at the tall hippie, who rose like an apparition from the steam, his gorgeous member hung dangerously.
He looked slightly aroused. His dick didn't stick straight out, but hung to the side. I found myself staring at him and, my inhibitions softened by the warm water and evening, decided to approach him. At first, he had seemed a little standoffish, but as I waded toward him, he waited for me, as if he expected me. As I got closer, I could feel myself getting harder. Looking back, I don't know if what I really wanted was to hold his dick in my hand. But mainly I was consumed by another vision—of his penis in that beautiful pussy.
I whispered to him. A few yards away, Jane looked almost asleep, her eyes closed. But I felt she was watching, wondering what I was up to. I said, "This is a wonderful place."
"Yes," he said.
"That's my wife over there."
"I see her," he said.
"Do you like what you see?"
"Yes. She's beautiful." He started to move away.
"Wait."
"Something I can do for you?" he asked. "Or her?"
So maybe this was his game. I steeled my courage. My hard-on grew. "Do you want her?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. That quick.
Jane looked up for a moment. Maybe she suspected what had happened. I couldn't tell. She gave me a little questioning smile, then laid her head back down when I just smiled back.
The two of us waded toward her. If she noticed, she pretended not to, until we were next to her. I bent over to kiss her and she looked into my eyes.
"Jane," I said. I stroked her leg lightly. It was slick from the silvery water. I moved my hand along her thigh towards her pussy, then lightly brushed between her legs.
