The summer sun had turned the grass-covered hills along Interstate 5 a golden color. We cruised along the west side of California's Central Valley headed to San Francisco for a short vacation. The drive can be boring, especially if you are alone. But my wife Julie and I were enjoying the drive because it gave us time for wide-ranging conversation. We had been so busy for the two years after our wedding that we seemed never to have much quiet time together.
It was during a quiet moment that she jolted me with a confession.
"I did it with Frank," she whispered, as I stared at the highway.
"What?" I turned to look at her. I was confused, unsure of her meaning. I could read nothing in her face. Her eyes looked ahead, then downward.
"I did it with Frank," she repeated, with the same quiet voice. From the corner of my eye, I saw her head turn to look at me. I sensed that she was examining me for my reaction.
"You had sex with Frank?" I suddenly realized what she meant, and my shock caused my voice to rise a little. She couldn't tell, but my surprise was not at the fact she had done it with Frank, but that she was telling me, volunteering her sexual exploit when she had never hinted at any sex with anyone besides me. Why was she telling me this, I wondered? Was she about to confess her love for him, that she wanted a divorce to be with the man of her dreams? That all the loving things she had said and done for me were false? My heart thumped in my chest . . .
Silence between us. For just a moment the radio faded into the distance as I heard wind, just wind.
"Do you love him?"
"Of course not," she said quickly and firmly. "It just happened, and I don't know why. It was just sex. I want to be with you, forever, because I love you and I always will. I don't know why I even told you. Let's talk about something else." She now seemed upset.
"Where did it happen?" I asked after another pause.
I saw her face turn toward me again, as I kept my eyes ahead, nervous and unsure of how I felt.
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" She asked, looking away again.
"Are you sure you want to tell me?" I asked, my voice quiet now.
We cruised along, but I realized that my speed had drifted down from 75 to below the speed limit.
"Yes, tell me about it. I want to hear. The details. Everything." I heard myself say these words, and felt an odd aching low in my belly, where I sensed more than felt some small movement.
Julie remained silent, contemplating. I looked and saw her green eyes staring at the highway. Her lips mouthed, "It was in his car."
I became aware now that the ache was a precursor to a burgeoning erection that shot to full bloom in seconds. God, I thought, what is going on here? My wife had sex with another man. Not only is she telling me about it, not in bitterness or anger, but for some kind of relief, it seemed. And not only was I listening patiently, without anger, I was eager. And not just eager, my angry cock had swelled to a hardness that tested the strength of my Levis. My jeans felt cramped, tight, uncomfortable. My cock throbbed and my only comfort was flexing my cock-moving muscles. My breathing was shallow. Should I adjust myself? I waited, silent and tense. Julie began softly.
"We had gone to a movie, Frank with Jeannie and me with Ron. Frank drove us." Jeannie was Frank's girlfriend, and now his wife. They had married a few months before Julie and I did. Ron was Julie's boyfriend at the time, a ne'er-do-well whom she dated to irritate her controlling parents.
"We were all 18, and were seeing our first sexy movie. We had been kissing our dates in the theater. It thrilled me to kiss while another couple was kissing next to us. I secretly imagined Frank was kissing me instead of Jeannie. I felt trashy just for having the thought, but it made me more passionate with Ron. But eventually I had to fend him off and we all had cooled down by the time we headed home.
"We dropped off Ron first, then Frank pulled up at Jeannie's house. I was in the back seat as they kissed good night in front of me. It was a long, twisting kiss. Then I saw Frank's eyes open in the middle of the kiss and he stared at me, through me, for just seconds. Then his eyes closed again and he moved more aggressively into his kiss, moving his body against, and almost on top of Jeannie."
"The porch light at Jeannie's house flashed off and then back on again. 'Shoot, my dad's awake,' groaned Jeannie. She pulled away from Frank and slid across the seat. 'G'night, honey,' she said, blowing him a kiss before she slammed the door."
"'Why don't you come up front,' said Frank. So as he drove off, I just climbed over the back of his bench seat in his old Chevy. He turned just before I got all the way seated, so I tumbled against him and we laughed."
"'You just wanted to feel me up, you creep!' I joked with him, hitting him on the arm."
" 'You wish,' he fired back, jabbing my ribs and getting a giggle."
"'Hey, mister, is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?' I really couldn't see much in the dark, so this was just a joke.
"But I could see Frank turn his head to look at me then, his mouth open slightly, no words escaping his sensuous lips."
Through Julie, I have met Frank, who is Latin, with dark curly hair. He works in construction but is only about 5'8", while I am 6'1" and about 180 pounds. Frank is lean, and a pretty gentle guy, with soft features that attract women because he doesn't look like a predator. Julie spoke a little more urgently now.
"'If you're afraid of the dark,' said Frank, 'you can get out the flashlight.' I was scared now. Scared not of Frank, but of myself, of what I had started, and where it might go. But I would not be the chicken in this game. He'd have to back down before I would. And I knew he would. So I just smiled an.d said 'But officer, that flashlight looks too big for me.' We both knew I was kidding because it was too dark in the car for either of us to see anything. Frank said nothing, and just kept driving. He kept driving, and passed the turn for my house."
"'Where are you going?' I asked."
"'Let's just drive around a little more, okay?' And he smiled at me, a gentle smile, a smile of fun and comfort."
Julie loves to ride. Having a man drive her around seems to enliven her, as though she is a queen with a servant-driver. Maybe her small size, 5'3" and barely over 100 pounds, makes her want to find ways to get men to serve her since they can so easily dominate her physically. But she is so beautiful that men want not to control her but to be her servants. That is how I myself feel. I fuck her, so I dominate in that way, but she always controls when and where. She rebuffs me as often as she accepts me, causing me endless frustration punctuated by glorious sex, always on her terms. But God! How the earth moves when we fuck.
"That missed turn did it for me," whispered Julie over the hum of the engine as we continued through the dry air on Interstate 5. "It was like I was free from the usual rules, away from home. And I started thinking I didn't have to follow anyone else's rules, at least for a little while. I felt a little feral, actually."
Julie said nothing more for awhile. Tense with anticipation, I was about to prompt her when she spoke.
"I touched it. Just reached across the space between us and touched it. With the palm of my left hand."
God, I knew that palm, so soft and gentle, expressive. Her hands are small, even for her small body. I thought of how her small hand made my cock look so big, because it is too thick for her hand to grip it. My cock head protrudes well past her gripping hand. I thought of this intensely now, and wished for her to put her small left hand on my cock, like she was describing doing to Frank. My cock flexed, unwilled by me, reacting to the raw sexual fervor I felt. God, why was I so turned on by this tale of my wife with another man?
"It was hard," Julie whispered. "It stuck across his right leg, pointing directly at me. He said nothing, made not a sound, but it flexed against my palm. With my fingers pointed toward the base, I squeezed a little, my thumb and little finger clenching the shaft. I felt the big tube that ran up the center to the head swell against my thumb, and the head moved against the base of my palm. Still he was silent."
Like Frank, I too was speechless. Though it was untouched by a hand, I felt the large channel in my own penis throb with excitement. She was telling me about the feel of another man's cock, and for some bizarre reason that I still don't understand, I felt no anger. Instead of resenting it, I wanted to hear more. I think my jealousy was channeled entirely to my swollen manhood. I would get even with Frank by exploding my spunk in or on the woman I won, the woman who loves me, not him, the woman whose only interest in him was for raw sex. But I was jealous as well as furiously, teeth-grittingly aroused.
"When my fingers on his penis curled and my nails scraped up his shaft, he groaned like some animal, some wild creature I had never heard before. He arched his hips toward my hand, and I couldn't stifle a giggle. I giggled with pride and power, sensing how helpless this man was now, despite the power of the rod I held in my hand. I knew the swollen bar was meant to enter a woman's body, to please itself and her in that primeval act of procreation, that nature had made so pleasurable."
"You were thinking that?" I asked incredulously. She was embellishing, I thought, just to torment me. Or did she somehow suspect it would turn me on to hear this?
