Wife and old friend play in the back seat while I'm driving.
Introduction: My girlfriend back in the seventies was a real pistol, a slim, attractive, young lady willing to experiment with sex and have fun with it. We had been together for about two years at this time. She was only in her early twenties and still lived with relatives a few miles away from my apartment.
My best friend from college and I were both in graduate school in nearby cities. He would often come up on weekends, for an afternoon of football or drinking, dinner, and maybe sleep on the couch. When he was between girlfriends, he would be there every other weekend. He, she, and I were very close. The three of us spent a lot of time together.
She mentioned to me one day that she was interested in possibly going to bed with him, if I wouldn't be upset. She thought he was pretty sexy, and we were all very familiar, and she wanted to try another man. Far from being upset, I approved wholeheartedly. She enjoys sex a great deal and expresses it loudly. I looked forward eagerly to seeing a new person turn her on, to watching another man explore her body and her desires, to watching her discover new excitement and pleasure with a new person. He and I certainly thought she was very sexy. She was cute, though not a beauty queen, but she had a terrific figure, medium height, thin, tight, tight hips and tight ass, slinky. And she just exuded sex when she wanted to. He and I are still good friends, but we live far apart so we don't see each other very often.
We had half a dozen threesomes with her in the middle. All great fun. Intense making out. Clothes all over the place. Hands and lips and tongues and dicks everywhere that was fun. Then he got seriously involved with a new girlfriend, and it faded, and we moved apart, she and I in one direction, he and his honey in another. Still hot memories.
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This chapter is largely fiction. Wish it could have happened this way, but we didn't get very far on this journey.
Fast forward fifteen years. Sweetie and I have now been married for ten years and we live in the Northeast. My best friend from college, the third in our little threesome, lives several hundred miles away. He's been married for about twelve years and has a couple kids. With four professional work schedules and kids and all, we don't see each other as often as we'd like. We're still good friends, though.
We two couples get together a couple times a year for drinks and dinner and more drinks and hours of gab. This one was around Christmas that year. At the end of the evening, we are driving back from dinner in the city to their house way out in the burbs. Beyond the burbs, in the country. I was the designated driver that night, so I had like one glass of wine. Everyone else was well-lubricated. His wife in fact got completely blitzed at dinner. Must have been those stingers after dinner. After the cocktails before dinner and two bottles of wine with dinner. She really can't walk well; we almost have to carry her back to the car. We put her in the front seat and recline it a bit so she can sleep. She crashes immediately, turns toward the door and begins to snore softly. We belt her in good and tight. She'll sleep now but pay for it tomorrow with many aspirin.
My wife and he are in the back seat, but they can use only half of it because the passenger seat is reclined so much. So they are pretty well squeezed together. This is interesting because they know and I know - but his wife doesn't, or at least I don't think she does - that the three of us were, um, intimate back in college days. We played as a threesome a number of times. In fact, the three of us were still getting it on occasionally after he and his now-wife started dating. So the two of them are squeezed together rather tightly in the back seat, tight and cuddling. The old times occur to us all.
At one point the conversation lags and I hear a lot of rustling. I look in the mirror to see what's happening. They are kissing. Not just a peck, but deeply, serious tonsil hockey. This goes on for a couple minutes. When I look around later, she's squirming and has one of his hands in hers. Then she's at my ear. "Honey, it's awfully close back here, so I have to sit sort of on him to get comfortable. At the moment, I'm sitting on his lap. Um, and he's been kissing me. A lot."
Is she upset about this or is she taunting me? I can't do much about it either way. I'm stuck driving through the cold, dark countryside. Does she want to tease? She knows how much I love to hear her talk about sex. Is this a sex thing again? She already started things by sitting on him, and making out with him.
"He's trying to feel me up, honey." But she doesn't sound all that happy about it. I get a glance that she's holding his wrist. Has she just removed his hand from her boob? "Remember the old times, how he felt me up in your old apartment, and how one thing led to another?" Boy, do I remember those days! We had some great times where the three of us all got naked and he and I both "had our way with her." It was not so much making love then as it was good, hard screwing. I'm not proud of it, but hey, we were young and horny then. At first, I recall, she was very enthusiastic, but after the first couple times she was more reluctant to start. Hmm.
What could happen here, though? His wife is in the front seat with me, passed out to be sure, but still. . . .
I remember how he felt up her breasts right in front of me, and how he groped under her skirt. And she let him. She opened her legs for him. And I wanted her to do that and let him do whatever he wanted. Oh, I remember all right. "Geez, honey, he's feeling me up now," she whispers. "Like then. He's kissing me, deeply. He's holding me and he's grabbing my boobs. What should I do?"
I don't know how to answer, or even if I should. She knows that I remember acutely those times when the two of us men made love to her and even the times when we just used her for sex. She won't take my silence for an answer. "He's trying to put his hands on me, like back then. He wants to play with my body all over." Pause. "Do you . . . do you want him to play with my body? Do you want me to *let* him play with my body?" More rustling and sighing. "He's already starting. He's holding me tight. When I lean forward to talk to you, he's cupping both my breasts. I keep moving his hands but he keeps coming back, grabbing me."
That's how it starts. Those intimate moments are among my fondest and most erection-inducing memories. I would love to repeat them. She played with other guys a lot before we were married - and even some after, at least the ones that I know about and she told me about. I certainly don't want to stop her here from creating another one of our great erotic memories. "Honey, I'm really being molested back here. This could get serious. He really is feeling me. And I think he's hard. When I move forward like this, I can feel my crotch rub over his."
Am I hearing this right? She's sitting on his lap, and he's holding her breasts, and she can feel his hard-on. Sure sounds like the beginning of something serious. Does she want to continue or not? I ask, "Is he bothering you? Do you want me to stop him?" She pauses a while. "Is it bad-molested or good-molested? If you don't like it, you can stop him."
A lot of rustling, changing positions I think. I glance in the mirror and see more kissing. Serious, deep kissing. After a while, she leans forward again toward me. She tickles my neck with her fingernails while whispering dirty thoughts in my ear. Always a starter. "Now I'm sitting on his knee so I can talk to you. Just one knee. That knee is between my legs. I'm resting all my weight on it and it's pushing on my goodies. It's like a hobby horse with a really narrow saddle. I can feel it rubbing when I lean forward to talk to you. My goodies are very sensitive." A little breathing and moaning. "He's holding my boobs and pulling me back to him. Mmm. Are we going to stop him? He really wants to feel me up."
*I* don't want to stop it - I'm thinking with the little head again, I can imagine what's happening right now, and I can fantasize about what might happen if he and she continue - I even want to encourage it. "If you're enjoying it, let him touch you. Let him feel you up."
"What? Let . . . let him feel me? He won't stop with just second base. Do you want to let him put his hands on me, feel me . . . any way he wants?"
