Lauren

"Lauren, you actually read that shit?"

That was Heather, my neighbor and best friend. She'd just let herself in and caught me sitting at my kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading on my laptop. Obviously, before I could react, she'd seen what I was reading, full of vulgar four letter words and concluded it was something pornographic.

She was correct of course. I had been reading erotic stories on the internet. Reading porn was a secret, illicit passion of mine. My favorite site called the stories erotic but they were mostly descriptions of people fucking. Most of it was salacious and useless but, occasionally, a story would come along that got my juices running and primed me for a pleasurable session with one of my favorite toys until my husband, Teddy, got home.

That part wasn't a secret. Heather knew about my toys. What she didn't know is how I readied myself to ease the toy into me when I was alone. Now she had a clue and, undoubtedly, was going to want to know more.

Heather poured herself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table. "Okay, honey," she said. "What's with the dirty stories?"

"Just a diversion when I'm feeling lonely," I explained.

"Why do you need a diversion when you've got Teddy?" asked Heather.

"He's at work," I reminded her.

"Didn't you fuck him before he left for work?" she asked.

"Not this morning," I admitted. "He had an early meeting and we didn't have time."

"Okay, I get it," said Heather. "But stories? The internet is full of thousands of porno sites with very explicit videos."

"Too explicit," I told her. "They don't leave enough for my imagination. The stories allow me to fill in the blanks with thoughts specific to me."

"Something's missing with sex with Teddy?" Heather asked. "Like pussy sucking or anal?"

"No. Nothing like that," I insisted. "The stories allow me to imagine how it might be with someone other than Teddy."

"Jeez, Lauren," exclaimed Heather. "There are thousands of live men out there that are better than just imagining what it would be like. I bet I can locate someone local in less than five minutes who could be here before lunch."

"And you know that how?" I asked.

"It works for me and, actually, I can connect with someone in less than a minute," admitted Heather.

"Wait," I exclaimed. "You're fucking someone other than Dale?"

"Sometimes," agreed Heather. "Not often. Only when I need something that Dale doesn't provide."

"Slow down," I insisted. "I'm lost here. You're married to Dale and he doesn't provide everything you need sexually? What happens if he finds out?"

"No problem. He knows," stated Heather.

"Shit. This is unbelievable," I said.

"Let me explain," said Heather. "Dale and I are married and we provide almost everything we need for each other. But one person can't touch every want or desire another person needs to be happy or sane. Dale doesn't give me one hundred percent of my sexual needs. Ninety-nine percent for sure but sometimes I need to scratch that last one percent itch. Dale understands and approves of my seeking it elsewhere. He doesn't know with who or when and he doesn't want to know."

"One percent doesn't seem like enough to warrant fucking someone other than Dale. I think I'd be able to compromise and not go that far," I explained.

"It's an important one percent," stated Heather.

"Okay," I admitted. "What one percent are you missing?"

"Dale doesn't like oral," stated Heather.

"Really?" I asked. "I can't believe any man would object to a blow job."

"Oh, no. Dale loves blow jobs. He just refuses to suck clit," explained Heather.

"Oh," I exclaimed. "That would be more than one percent for me."

"It is for me too," admitted Heather. "I was just minimizing it for you. So, what is Teddy not doing for you?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "He's wonderful at everything. Blow jobs, eating pussy, fucking, everything. He's always willing to try something new and I have orgasms ranging from shivers to eruptions. I love it."

"Wait," said Heather. "Teddy sucks your clit?"

"Yeah, and he's really good at it," I admitted.

Heather sat at the table, silently twisting her coffee mug between her hands. "What are you thinking?" I asked tentatively.

"I'd love to have someone who would eat my pussy regularly," Heather admitted. "And Teddy likes to do it."

"Whoa! What are you suggesting?" I asked.

"I'm not suggesting anything, yet," commented Heather. "I was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?" I interrupted.

"I was wondering if I didn't have to meet with strangers to deal with my one percent anymore," Heather stated.

"And how do you propose to achieve that?" I asked knowing full well what she was thinking.

"Well...," she procrastinated. "Teddy loves to eat pussy."

"And you think he'd love to eat your pussy?" I asked.

"What do you think he'd say if we asked him?" Heather questioned.

"We?" I responded.

"You'd have to agree, of course," Heather stated.

"So, if we ask him and I think he might agree since it would seem as if I approved, you'd get your clit sucked. What do I get?"

"You get to experience sex with another man rather than having to imagine it," suggested Heather.

"I don't suppose you're suggesting that you teach me how you presently connect with strangers. So, that only leaves one possibility, Dale," I guessed.

"That would be the obvious choice," Heather agreed.

"And, if my experience is any predictor, sucking clit usually leads to more, like actual fucking," I suggested.

"Since Dale doesn't eat pussy, that's a reasonable conclusion," agreed Heather.

"You're suggesting that we swap husbands," I further proposed.

"Some might refer to it as swapping, exchanging, trading, loaning or even swinging. I prefer to think of it as sharing," explained Heather.

"Where the other terms imply onetime events, sharing implies multiple opportunities," I observed. "Is that what you're suggesting?" I asked.

"The one percent doesn't evaporate with just one connection. It eventually rises again and needs another treatment," explained Heather.

"And what is your plan to make this happen?" I asked.

"Does your question imply that you agree with the possibility?" asked Heather.

"I can't believe that I'm saying this but it appeals on some level. The plan?" I asked.

"I don't have a plan. I'm just spit balling here. I hadn't considered it until two minutes ago," confessed Heather.

"It's just another fantasy without a plan," I asserted.

"True," agreed Heather. "Let me think about it. Meanwhile, what are you doing for the next hour or so?"

"You want me to suck your clit?" I smiled.

"If you want me to suck yours," responded Heather.

"If you can ask me to help you with your one percent problem, why do you need a man?" I asked.

"It's different with you and with a man," Insisted Heather. Two different one percents. No man can substitute for you and you can't replace a man between my legs."

We went out to lunch together two hours later.

At lunch, Heather was pensive. I asked what she was thinking. "I can't get past thinking about having Teddy suck my pussy," she admitted.

"And you thought I was fantasizing about sex with another man," I accused her.

"True," said Heather. "But I think we may have the possibility of solving both our problems."

"You have a plan?" I asked.

"Not a real plan," she admitted. "Just the start of one. I don't have the ending yet."

"Okay, girl friend," I said. "Let's hear it."

"We need to spend more time together," Heather stated.

"Don't we already spend more time together?" I asked.

"Not just us," she clarified. "All four of us."

"You think presence makes the heart grow fonder?" I asked with a smile.

"Well, absence hasn't," She responded. "And I have no yearning for Teddy's heart, just his lips and tongue."

I laughed. "Don't forget his fingers," I suggested. "And any possible erection."

Heather laughed. "You know, you're only increasing my determination."

I laughed again. "Okay, dinner at our place Friday night?" I asked.

"I think that works," Heather agreed. "Dinner and games afterward?" she asked.

"Slow down woman," I said. "I know what you're thinking. Games, okay, but nothing suggestive or sexual."

"No strip poker?" asked Heather with a grin.

"No strip poker," I confirmed. "Rushing things will only scare the men and make it more difficult."

"They're men," insisted Heather. "I doubt they'll be scared or hesitant to play."

"Okay," I agreed. "But I need to go slowly. I'm not sure how I'll handle the end game yet and, while Teddy is a man who might just take you up your offer immediately, I'm not sure how he'll handle me spending quality time with Dale."

"Honey," said Heather. "Your comfort is important to me. I'll let you set the pace."

"Thanks, Heather," I said. "Six o'clock?"

"I like it," she said. "I'll bring Dale and I won't try to influence his expectations in any way."

"Thanks," I agreed. "I appreciate it."

Friday night went well. We gathered for dinner just as normal friends might and played cards, Hearts not Poker, afterwards. Later that night, after a particularly vigorous execution of intimacy between Dale and me, I asked, "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Are you asking about dinner and cards with Teddy and Heather or the last half hour?" asked Dale.

I giggled. "Both I guess but specifically about dinner and cards," I clarified.

"I had fun. They're a nice couple. They seem open and natural. Comfortable with each other and us. We should see them more often," he answered.

I smiled inwardly at his answer. "And the last half hour?" I asked.

"That was incredible. We seemed perfectly together every moment. More energy, more love. Everything we could ever ask for," he explained energetically.

"It was incredible, wasn't it," I agreed. "I wonder where we got the added energy from. Do you think having dinner with Dale and Heather had anything to do with it?"

"Having dinner with another couple influenced the level of sex we had later?" he mused.

"Heather is all woman," I stated. "She'd have an effect on any man and you're a man."

"True," Teddy admitted. "But, I swear I never had a single thought about her while we were having sex."

"But earlier?" I asked.

"On occasion," he admitted. "Like you said, she's all woman. But only in passing. I don't think there's even a remote possibility of anything more than that."

I let the conversation end there. I said, "Good night," rolled over, fluffed up my pillow and settled in to sleep, leaving Teddy with that last thought still in his mind.

Heather and I went to the mall on Sunday afternoon, ostensively to have lunch and shop but really to talk. We were sitting on a bench near the fountain in the center of the mall when Heather asked, "Any comments about last Friday evening?"

"Only that Teddy enjoyed the evening," I told her.

"Dinner or the card game?" asked Heather.

"The company," I informed her.

"Oh, that's interesting," she mulled over my answer. "How about dinner and cards at our place Friday evening?" she asked.

"How about a week later," I suggested. "I don't want to seem pushy and spook the boys."

"And give yourself more time to adjust to the possibilities," suggested Heather.

"That too," I admitted.

Twelve days later, Teddy and I walked to Dale and Heather's for dinner and cards. We played Hearts again. After one game, Heather suggested that we make the game more interesting and play for something tangible. I gave her a look, daring her to suggest that we play strip Hearts.

"Okay," said Teddy. "What do you suggest?"

"How about we each put up a dollar, play three games with a different partner for each game and the player with the lowest point total after the three games wins the four dollars," she offered.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Ninety minutes later, Teddy pocketed the four dollars having won all three games. The evening broke up, Heather hugged each of us and we left for home. After a predictable hot session in bed, I cuddled up behind Teddy and asked, "That was exhilarating. Thinking about Heather?"

"No," He said. "My only thought was making you happy."

"But before or after?" I questioned him.

"Maybe before," he admitted.

"Any thoughts you'd care to share?" I pushed.

"Her hug when she left was unexpected," Teddy shared.

"What about her hug?" I wanted to know.

"She smelled good and I don't think she was wearing a bra," Teddy smiled at the thought.

"So, she pushed her tits against your chest when she hugged you," I suggested.

"A little," Teddy admitted.

"Teddy," I said. "I was there. I saw how she hugged you. She wasn't wearing a bra and no one would describe her tits as small. A little isn't the description I would have chosen."

"All right," Teddy confessed. "She pushed and I pushed back."

"And you loved it," I insisted.

"Yeah, I enjoyed it," he acknowledged.

"Thanks for your honesty," I told him. "Feel free to fall asleep thinking about Heather's hug and her braless tits." I kissed him, rolled over, fluffed my pillow and went to sleep.

Heather and I planned our third dinner and cards at our house two weeks later. We played cards again and Heather pocketed the four dollars. She added a chaste kiss when she hugged Teddy good bye with her braless tits. Teddy was pleased when I told him I was fine with the end of the evening and sex that night was particularly satisfying.

Heather came over to visit during the week before our next dinner date. When she left, I reminded her about Friday evening and suggested we wear blouses that buttoned up in front and skirts.

"You've been thinking," she said. "You have something up your sleeve. Care to share?"

"I'm still thinking," I told her. "Be patient and let me lead," I suggested. "And wear a bra," I urged.

"Ahhh," smiled Heather.

"Just do it," I demanded before we hugged and she went home.

Friday, Teddy and I walked the short distance to Heather and Dale's. I hugged and kissed Dale on the cheek in greeting and Heather hugged and kissed Teddy on the lips. She was wearing a bra and I wondered if Teddy was disappointed during her hug.

Dinner seemed to go quickly. Apparently, we were anxious to play Hearts. We sat around the table. Dale was shuffling the cards. "Same game?" he asked.

Teddy and Heather quickly agreed. Heather took a dollar bill from her bra and put it on the table. Teddy watched and had trouble finding his pants pocket to get his own dollar.

I sat at the table and watched. Heather looked at me. "Lauren?" she asked.

"I've been thinking," I said. "Did playing for a dollar make the game more interesting and more competitive?" I asked.

Heather answered. "Yeah. I think we played more deliberate with four dollars at stake."

Teddy and Dale nodded in agreement. "Would we play even more competitively if the stakes were higher?" I asked.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Heather. "Playing for more money might actually eliminate the fun if we focus on the money."

"How about some stake that would increase both the competitiveness and the fun.

"If you have something in mind," said Heather. "Just tell us."

"Okay," I agreed. "Same game. Three games with three different partners only with each hand, whoever gets the queen of spades has to take off one article of clothing."

Heather smiled, Dale grinned and Teddy gasped. "It's possible that someone might end up naked," Teddy stated.

"True," I told him. "But very unlikely. Do the math. I think that between us we're wearing maybe thirty to thirty-two items of clothing. We'll probably play fifteen or sixteen hands of cards. That means only fifty percent of the clothing we're wearing will be on the floor instead of our bodies."

"But the possibility exists," Teddy insisted.

"It does but someone would have to be extremely unlucky or incompetent," I insisted.

Heather put her dollar bill back in her bra. "I'm in," she stated.

Dale quickly followed. Teddy agreed when he noticed Dale's grin. I love male competitiveness.

I looked at Dale shuffling the cards. His grin seemed permanent. "Dale," I ventured. "I know that you and Teddy might try to force the queen on either Heather or me. It's a risky strategy," I added. "If you hold it too long you might have to eat it."

His grin only got larger.

Three games later, Heather was the lowest total score even though she had taken the queen of spades five times and was sitting at the table in skirt, panties and bra. The rest of us were pretty evenly and decently dressed.

"Is that it?" asked Dale, his grin having faded to disappointment.

"We could keep playing," suggested Heather.

I shot her a glare of disapproval bordering on hostility. "Or I guess we could just call it a night," she added.

Heather and Dale kissed and hugged us goodnight at the door. Teddy and I had dressed but Heather didn't bother. Teddy was in another world with his arms around Heather hugging her on her bare back. She wisely ended the hug before Teddy's right hand slid too far down her back and grabbed her ass.

She hugged me and whispered in my ear. "Sorry."

"Not a problem," I told her. "We need to talk."

Heather and I talked on the phone Saturday afternoon. "Sorry," said Heather again. "I misread your intensions. I thought you had come around and I expected you to second my suggestion. I really wanted to remove my bra."

"That's okay. Everything ended all right," I told her. "I'm coming around. Maybe next time you can free the girls. I'm more concerned with Teddy's reaction at this point."

"I'm sure he'd jump in bed with me if he had the chance," opined Heather.

"Oh, I'm sure he would," I agreed. "My concern is still how he'd react to my jumping in bed with Dale."

"Do you have a plan to address his reticence?" Heather asked.

"I'm working on it," I told her. "I think we need one more evening with a change in approach."

"Next Friday?" asked Heather.

"Always in a rush," I laughed. "But I think, after last night, sooner is better than later."

"Where?" asked Heather.

"Here, I think," I said. "It's our turn and Teddy might be more comfortable in his own house."

"Okay. I'll tell Dale," agreed Heather. "Anything I should know before Friday?"

"Probably," I commented. "I'll let you know before Friday."

I was sitting in my kitchen with my laptop and a mug of coffee Monday morning when Heather came through the door. "That doesn't look like dirty stories," she commented when she saw what I was reading.

"Just the news," I revealed.

"How's the plan for Friday coming?" Heather asked as she poured a mug of coffee and sat down at the table.

"Almost done," I told her.

"Care to share the details?" she asked.

"That's going to be difficult," I explained. "It could go in a dozen different directions based on how each of us reacts. So, it's not a scripted plan as much as a direction with decisions in real time."

"Can you share the direction?" asked Heather.

"I'm thinking about something like performance art that we lead and involve the guys," I suggested.

"No games?" asked Heather.

"No games," I confirmed. "You'll just have to trust me and follow my lead."

"Sounds like fun," agreed Heather. "Anything I need to do to prepare?"

"Yeah," I said. "We need to dress appropriately and similarly."

"Not the way we usually dress?"

"Yeah, but with some additions," I told her. "Button down the front shirt with conservative bra and a short, above the knee, but not too high, skirt that's not skin tight. Stay up, thigh high nylons, the higher the better and low heel strap on shoes. And, of course, conservative panties."

"Panties? And conservative yet," commented Heather. "I may have to go shopping for them."

I laughed. "Bikini panties might work, just not string bikinis or thongs."