His and Hers Affairs

The things I do for my husband.

Love, it's strange, no?

When going into an open marriage, you expect to have a slightly different life than the average American couple, but still.

We both knew when we met, when we started dating, when we got serious, when we considered even the idea of marriage that there was no way we would be able to stay physically faithful to one another. We were tipped off to that fact that we were both seeing other people when we had our first date. I suppose it goes without saying that we had sex on the first date as well.

Having a threesome with a drunk sorority girl on our fourth date pretty much sealed that deal. (Long, stupid story. Short version: We were playing a game of sexual chicken, we went into one of the local bars frequented by other students like us, a few drinks later there's a blonde Greek in our bed. Well, his bed actually, but I was spending pretty much every night there already.)

Anyway, the first serious girlfriend Mike had after our marriage was good for him. She got him out of the house, she was good in bed, I was better looking than her so there wasn't any jealousy there. It was great...until she decided to marry the guy she was seriously dating. Even that would have been fine, Mike had no objections. But apparently her fiancee, soon to be husband, took offense that she had been seeing someone behind his back and he refused to marry her unless she dropped her boyfriend.

Some people have strange morals.

This was unexpected, but a few months later, Mike found a new girlfriend and all was well and good with the world again.

That lasted about two years until Mike started moping around the house and I knew something was wrong. Naturally I had to ask. What a mistake.

"Lydia doesn't want to see me anymore."

I could tell he was trying not to cry like a little girl. It took forever to weasel the story out of him, even then he refused to go into detail, just that they had an argument and had broken up. Thing was, he still had a thing for her. Great. So I either needed to find him a new girlfriend right away--so I could continue fucking around--or get him back with Lydia.

I chose Lydia. It seemed the easier route.

It was easy enough to find her dating profile online; Mike never hid it from me, but I never looked either. It was easy enough to find. The internet has been a blessing to millions of people looking for long intimate relationships and those looking just for a one night stand of sex. More reliable than singles bars too.

Oddly, even though I had heard about the woman for two years, I had never seen a picture of her nor had I bothered looking her up.

Name: Thongirl

Age: 30 (I knew that was a lie, maybe by only a few years, but still)

Height: 5' 9" (taller than I expected, taller than me)

Weight: 140 (if true, not bad, Mike had said she had curves)

Hair: brunette, long (contrast with by short, blonde; I guess Mike likes variety)

Skin: pale with freckles

Body type: sexy and curvy (see, I knew; again different, I'm petite and athletic)

Bust: 38D [full D] (her note, not mine, and wow, I'm barely a B)

Piercings: ears only!!! (not that adventurous I see)

Tattoos: none (same as me, but it's the quiet ones you have too look out for)

Pubes: shaved (well, who doesn't nowadays?)

Personality: shy (yeah, right)

Marital status: Married, but looking (no duh)

Favorite sex position: female superior (aren't we all?)

Fantasy: three-way, group sex

Orientation: bi-curious

It was the last item that let me know exactly how I was going to do this.

I won't bore you with the emails we sent back and forth, it was all pretty humdrum stuff. Suffice it to say that I led her on--just a bit--and she went for the bait. I never really told her who I was. The internet is a wonderful thing.

We met for the first time at, of all places, a bagel shop. I don't like coffee bars and nightclubs are no place to meet and talk with someone. Besides, where else can you meet someone in the safety of daylight and not look like you're up to trouble?

I was waiting for her and even though it seems a bit trite, when she walked in I recognized her immediately, more from her description than the few pictures she had sent me. She was much more striking in person than in the somewhat forced and posed pictures she had sent me. Tall, dark hair that cascaded down her back, simple white blouse that showed off a touch of cleavage and tight, but not too tight, jeans.

I stood up from my table to greet her and held out my hand.

She smiled, clasped my hand, then pulled me in close and kissed me on the cheek.

"A handshake is a little formal for what we have planned, isn't it?" she said. Her voice was high and light.

I smiled back at her but didn't kiss her cheek. It would have seemed forced coming from me. She was aggressive, not the shy she had put in her profile, but then again, we were friends already, weren't we?

"Yes, I suppose it is," I agreed with a laugh.

We sat down and there was an uncomfortable silence.

"So easy to send email," she said, "so hard to speak in person."

"Yeah, strange, isn't it? I've met a lot of people this way, but its always a bit uncomfortable at first when you're face to face."

"How many...people have you met this way?" she asked and we were off and running.

It was easy to see why Mike was enamored of her, she was funny, witty, vivacious and more than a little sexy, even if she didn't have what I normally looked for in a partner—namely a penis. But even if she wasn't sexy and forthright, I would have been attracted to her, there was just something about Lydia that was indescribable and yet perfectly desirable as well.

"Why 'Thongirl'" I finally asked her as the conversation began to wind down.

She looked at me blankly a moment, then sudden realization dawned on her. "Oh, my screen name! Well, I like thongs, why else?"

"Don't you find them a little...uncomfortable?"

"You've got to find a style that gives you the right fit," she half-whispered to me, reaching across the table and patting my hand.

"Makes me feel like I've got a wedgie I can't get rid of," I complained.

"Guys find them sexy," she said. "Girls too."

"My husband is always getting after me to wear them," I agreed, dodging subtle pass she made at me. "I only wear silk bikinis."

"What color?" she asked.

"What color what?" I said, a bit confused. "All colors, depends on my mood."

"No," she said, squeezing my hand slightly. Her fingers were strong and warm against mine. Her index pressed on my wrist, as if she were taking my pulse. "What color are you wearing now?"

"Oh!" I blushed. "Red. String bikini."

"Matching bra?" she asked me.

"Yes," I hoarsely answered.

She smiled, unable to control the pleasure on her face. "Me too, red that is. Only mine aren't silk. They're lace." She paused a moment, lowered her eyes slightly , then looked at me through her eyelashes. "Want to see them?"

Outside the bagel shop she took her hand in mind—I felt strange to be out in public holding the hand of a woman I barely knew, but this was downtown where all the artists, students and the gay community lived, so we were safe and hardly unusual—I thought to lead the way to her place which she promised was only a few block away, but after walking perhaps half a block she suddenly pushed me up against the recessed doorway of an empty storefront, pushed her body into mine and kissed me harder and fiercer than I'd been kissed in longer than I could remember.

I could feel my red panties getting wet as her tongue explored my mouth. Her breasts pressed against me, right above mine, her hands wandered down to my waist, but didn't curl around and cup my ass like a man would have.

It was heaven. Soft and fierce and everything I wanted right then. I couldn't wait to get back to her place.

She broke the kiss and pulled back just enough so I could see her smile. "Think you can run to my place and still have enough energy to go to bed with me?"

"Three blocks?" I asked her eagerly.

"Less."

"Yes."

We ran the rest of the way, hand in hand, screaming like little schoolgirls. Her place was one flight up in an older brownstone. She raced up the stairs ahead of me; I admired the way her ass swung back and forth. Inside we fell into each others arms in an instant, exchanging kisses and pulling at each other's clothes. True to her word when I got her pants and shirt off she was wearing a red lace bra, that was more lace than anything else; I could see her pale red nipples erect and straining against the wispy material. Her thong was a perfect match, obviously sold as a set, and I could see through the material that she most certainly did shave her pubes down to nothing.

We were only in the living room and she had my shirt off and I was displaying my own small breasts and nips struggling to escape their material bonds.

"Come to the bedroom," she invited me, turning around and almost skipping away. She did it purposely, so that I could see her ass displayed by her tiny thong. It worked; I suddenly understood why men liked seeing women in those tiny bits of lingerie.

I also discovered she had lied on her profile. She most certainly did have a tattoo. Right ass cheek. A pair of pink ballerina slippers. It was unusual; most women sporting tattoos stuck with hearts, butterflies and roses. I liked it.

She lowered herself onto the bed and gave me a come hither look. It was the same look I'd seen on the faces of too many men. I couldn't resist her pull. I in a moment I'd joined her and our lips were once again locked in a passionate kiss. Before I knew it her hands had slipped around by back and my bra loosened. She pulled back and slipped my bra away from my breasts.

"You've got great tits," she said, looking at my small, erect nipples.

"Thanks." I blushed and looked down at her. They were huge next to mine and I felt inadequate. "Yours are so big," was all I could say.

"Boys like 'em that way." She took it as a compliment which was good. That's how I meant it, I guess. "And girls too," she added, pulling me back down to her.

A moment later I was on my back and she was easing my panties down my hips. It was the same position and situation I'd been in before many times...only this time it was a woman. She freed the red silk from my legs and looked down at my crotch.

"You are a natural blonde," she said with a smile.

Unlike her I didn't shave my pussy completely. Mike often said I should, but I also wanted to advertise to the world—or at least my lovers—that I was as she had discovered. Too many bleached blondes in the world. "Yeah," I breathed. It was getting hard to think and react. There was a pressure on my chest, an anticipation, and a tightness in my stomach. I was eager but unsure of myself; then I remember that supposedly Lydia was supposed to be bi-curious, not some experienced woman who was acting like a professional lesbian.

"I love it," she said lowering her face to first kiss my belly button, then my smooth, flat stomach, then the fine, thin strip of golden curls that just barely hid my pussy. Without effort on my part my legs fell open and I was displaying my wet, pink pussy to her. She looked up at me from between my legs, her face so close to my musky womanhood that I could feel her breath tickling my clitoris. Her eyes were half-lidded, then suddenly completely closed as she buried her face in my cunt and slid her tongue the entire length of my open labia, stopping to lap at my clit.

I arched my back and groaned in frustration and pleasure. She knew exactly what she was doing and I loved every bit of it.

Then her tongue and lips were suddenly busy in my pussy, lapping and licking, teasing and tickling. I squired beneath her ministrations, and she put a hand on my stomach to quiet me. I brought my hands up to my small tits and squeezed the nipples, focusing on the pain so that I would hold still. I needed her to bring me off. I wanted a woman to fuck me and to taste my juices.

It wasn't long before I was gasping for breath and then suddenly all the tension was released out of my body through my pussy. When I was this excited I was all too likely to squirt and that's exactly what happened; I soaked her face with my scent and fluids. It was both painful and pleasurable at the same time. It was perfect.

After a minute I stopped trembling and I realized that Lydia and gotten out from between my legs and was laying next to me, watching as I breathed.

"You're beautiful when you cum," she told me.

"Thank you," I said, accepting the strange compliment. "You know your way around a pussy."

"I should, I've had one all my life."

I laughed. "But I thought you've never been with another woman before," I said, affecting a puzzled tone. Even after sex I needed to keep control of this situation. I told myself I was doing this for Mike, not for me.

"I haven't," she said. "Well, okay that's not true. I've been drunk a few times in my life and had the opportunity to kiss a girl and feel her tits, but this is the first time I ever really got to eat a pussy, really make love to a woman." I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or not, if she was, then she was a natural cunnilinguist, if not, she was a perfect liar. "What about you?" she asked. "You ever gone down on a woman?"

I hesitated. How much to tell? "Well, no, not really. I've done a threesome before, with my husband—boyfriend at the time—and another woman, but mostly I just watched him fuck her. Though I did make her cum with my hand."

She smiled at her, her head resting on the pillow. Then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me; I tasted myself on her lips. "Do you want to go down on me now?" she asked.

I hesitated. I did, but I didn't. I was confused. What should I do?

Then she solved the problem for me. "Or would you like to fuck me?"

"What?" Now I was truly puzzled.

She rolled off the bed and pulled open a drawer on the dresser. Lydia took out several sex toys—a vibrator, a large black dildo, some tubes of cream—and then a harness and another dildo, this one pink and average sized. It took me a moment to realize what is was: a strap on dildo so a woman could have a fake cock. "I use this to fuck my husand in the ass," she told me.

I just goggled at her.

"The harness," she explained, "not the dildo. Will you fuck me with it?" she asked. Her voice was a little bit softer and shyer. Lydia was almost embarrased to ask this favor of me.

What could I do. "Yes, if that's what you want of me."

She helped me into the harness. It had four straps and there was no way I would ever have figured it out on my own. There were straps around my thighs, one around my waist and one going from the socket at the front up between my ass cheeks. It was she put that last strap into place did I understand why she was so used to wearing thongs. The last part was to slip the pink dildo into the socket so I suddnely had a fake cock jutting out from my crotch, resting against my pubic bone.

When I was ready Lydia got back on the bed, on her back, her tiny lace thong still in place, and smiled at me. "Ready?" she asked.

I nodded nervously and joined her on the bed, crawling up from the foot, the dildo projecting out awkwardly. She slipped her hands behind her head and raised her knees slightly. I could see her swollen labia half-hidden under the lace; her panties were as soaked as mine. I hesitated, not knowing what to do, then screwed on my courage and crawled all the way up to her.

Lydia moved her knees together and off to the side slightly. I reached for her hips, slipped my fingers under the side of her thong and eased them down over her hips. She smiled as I did so, then let her legs fall open exposing her waiting pussy. It was shaved and beautiful, but I couldn't see myself burying my face in it. I don't know why; I loved to have my pussy kissed and eaten, but I couldn't do it.

Luckily I remembered the strap-on Lydia had buckled on my hips. It was strange, approaching her as a man would, but she was sexy and beautiful and that made it easier. As I reached her, she grabbed hold of the fake cock and eased it inside her cunt.

"Careful now," she instructed me. "Let it get good and lubed up before you start pounding away at me."

I"I giggled a tlittled at her, but slowly lowered myself into her, letting her juices makethe dildo all slippery. Our tits met and mashed together, which was a strange sensation, but nice too. I leaned in for a kiss just as our hips met.

I don't understand how lesbians do it because the way two women are shaped doesn't exactly allow for the perfect meshing of bodies, but I managed. I pulled out a bit then slipped it back in, starting to pump into her like a man would. The motions were familiar and similar, although reveresed from what I was used to. After just a few thrusts I discovered something else. The harness of the strap-on dildo was specially designed for the straps and harness were working a way to stimulate my clit.

"Oh," I moaned a little, surprised at the sensation.

She grinned up at me in triumph. "Found my little secret, did you?" she grunted at me.

"Yeah," I whispered into her ear.

"Don't slow down," she hissed back. "Fuck me hard."

That was the easy part. I started slamming into her as hard and fast as I could. She quivered and shook as I did until at last she cried out in pain. It sounded like pain to me, at least for a moment, then I realized she was cumming and I was able to let myself go and another wave of pleasure washed over me. Only then was I able to collapse onto her, breathing heavy, enjoying the slow recission of the orgasm.

"That was good," she whispered into my ear, only then did I roll of her body.

"This is crazy," I said. What was I doing? I wasn't a lesbian. I like men. Girls are beautiful and all, but... That's right I was doing this for my husband. I just fucked my husband's girlfriend. Shit. Time to start easing them back together.

I turned to her, but before I could speak she kissed me lightly on the lips. "I don't want to break the mood, but you need to leave soon," Lydia said to me. "My husband will be home soon."

This wasn't exactly what I was expecting her to say. "Okay, when do you want to get together again?" I asked her, trying to be seductive.

She smiled at me. "As soon as possible."

"This was wonderful, I think I'm going to start doing crazier things with my life," I declared to her.

"Yeah?" she asked, half-interested. "Like what beyond fucking girls?"

"How about a threesome?" I suggested.

She laughed and started to push me out of bed. "Maybe some day. Now get dressed."

Not knowing what else to do I started gathering up my clothes, but I couldn't find my panties. I stood up to ask Lydia if she had seen where they went and saw that she had slipped them on.

"Looking for these?" she asked. They were a bit tight on her, but perfectly outlined her labia.

I blushed, I don't know why, after all we had just done, but I did. "Yeah. Why are you wearing my panties?"

She shrugged. "Because I wanted to. Makes me feel sexy and closer to you, a little bit naughty."

"Take them off," I told her. "I need to wear them home."

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm keeping them."

This exasperated me. "Then what am I supposed to wear?"

A sly smile crept across her face and she dangled her red thong from her fingers. "These are for you," she offered.

On the way home I reflected that maybe, just maybe, thongs weren't so uncomfortable. I did feel sexy wearing Lydia's panties and knowing that she had mine on. The only wrinkle would be explaining them to Mike.

That actually turned out to be the easy part. He wasn't home from work yet so I just stripped down and jumped in the shower. For some reason cleaning up after a roll in the sack with another woman seemed to make the whole thing a little bit sleazier. Mike and I had an open relationship; we didn't need to hide affairs from one another, but still there was something that I wanted to keep quiet about my relationship with Lydia for a little while longer. Besides, explaining another man's aftershave on my body would be easy enough; explaining Lydia's perfume would be tougher.