Metamorphosis Ch 02

Tina enjoyed telling me about it. "She's been having all kinds of fun. I guess it's rebounding after a divorce or something. When she talks about romantic dinners out with strangers, then bringing them back to her place, well, it sounds so exciting and sexy. Maybe I'm jealous. She sure seems to be having a lot of fun these days."

I offered my opinion. "She's paying a pretty high price for it, though. Divorce is rotten, and she's just making the best of a sorry situation."

"Yeah, I know."

" She is 'socially active', though, isn't she? I guess when your husband screws around on you, that's one easy way you can remind yourself that you're still an attractive woman," I suggested.

"Maybe. She's already dated more guys in a single week than I did in my whole lifetime", was Tina's reply.

"Well, you found the right man early - and twice." I shouldn't dig at her about leaving me for the convent, I know. "Are you really jealous of Betty?"

"Sometimes. I'm jealous of all of the new men she's meeting. And of all those women you dated, for that matter."

Tina was obviously mulling something over, and finally asked a life changing question. "Bob, I know you 'dated' - a lot while I was in the convent."

"Yeah, Tina, I did. I'm sorry about comparing you to them. Let's not go there again, honey."

"Bob, I know you had a couple of 'serious relationships'."

"I probably shouldn't have told you about them."

"How many 'serious relationships', Bob?"

"Just a couple, you know about Barbara and Harriet."

"Do you mean you slept with two women before you married me?"

"No, I was talking about serious relationships, you know, where you think you might have found someone you might actually marry, serious like that. Just having sex wasn't the same as having a serious relationship in my mind."

"So how many women DID you have sex with, Bob? That's what's I want to know."

"I don't remember. . ."

"Bob, everybody remembers. Now tell me, how many? Truthfully. I really want an honest answer."

"Tina, why. . ."

"Bob, you've never lied to me before: don't start now. How many?"

"About twenty five."

"Twenty five! My God, when did you start?"

"In high school, with Ruth, right after the prom."

"Oh." Tina's eyes filled with tears. "Well, I guess I had that one coming. Was she any good?"

"Come on, honey, we were just kids. We didn't know anything."

"You mean, sort of like me, now? No experience, pretty screwed up about sex, not very good at it?"

"No, not like that: besides, I love you."

"Well, at least tell me this. Those kinds of things you want to do. . . sexually: were you taught them by some of your partners, or did you just make them up all by yourself?"

"Honey, please . . "

"Bob baby, you keep wanting me to be better in bed. How am I going to I learn? Can you teach me?"

"I don't know," I replied, "we have so many hang-ups and habits with each other now. I just don't know if I can, now."

"I guess I was stupid, not doing anything like when I was younger, or when I came out of the convent . And, maybe that's why you act as though sex with me isn't very exciting. It's almost a chore, isn't it Bob. I don't have as much experience as some of those other women you screwed around with and I guess I never will. You'll always see me as a 'lousy fuck'! "

This was turning into a fight. I responded "The problem is that you're very inhibited, and now you're in the habit of being inhibited with me."

"So you 'love' me, but you'd rather FUCK all those other women?"

My "Of course not" didn't carry any weight. Soon, we were asleep, with a physical and emotional space between us.

I was afraid this subject wasn't closed.

And I was right.

The next evening the conversation continued.

"Maybe I needed more sexual experience, Bob, to be a good wife for you."

"No. I love you for who you are, not for your sexual experience."

"Then how come," she went on, "you ejaculated all over the blanket at the beach when those guys were looking at me at Fire Island last summer?" She would remember that!

I still didn't have an good answer for it, either.

But she did. "I've been thinking about it. Maybe you're a voyeur! One of those men who just likes to watch!"

Now I was getting angry. "Well, I'd rather be that than screw around!"

Again we went to sleep, miles apart emotionally.

But the door was open. Our intimate moments began to include some of Tina's stories about Betty's dates, and I encouraged her to tell me more about her the kinds of experiences as a single woman she'd have wanted to have.

By now she knew what she'd have wanted pretty well: how she would have been touched, what she would have touched, how dating progressed to long erotic weekends away. I at times became a surrogate for these imagined lovers, and at the same time all of this awakened a strong voyeuristic aspect of my own personality. Our intimate moments often became more erotic than loving, and each of us began liking that. The long silent times, as our minds thought about other people while our bodies were coupled, often ended in mutual orgasms, and then embarrassment. We are open enough so we could at least hint about, and joke about, what was on our minds while we used each other's body.

Then another piece fell in place for us. Computer Associates, a major employer on Long Island, was in a hiring frenzy. They wanted to rent our apartment until May, at a fixed monthly rate, for executives in transit. But, it was going to remain empty for the next four weeks. Paid for, but empty until the end of January.

I was getting more interested in being a real voyeur, and wondering what it would be like to be willingly cuckolded. When I held her, and thought about her with another guy, I got horny.

What really gave me the courage to do more than think about being a voyeur happened between Christmas and New Years. We agreed to meet after work for dinner at Squadron 56, an interesting restaurant nearby that also is an active singles bar. We watched people meet at the bar, and I turned to her, and said "Hello, my name's Bob. What's yours?"

My wife's very smart, and very quick. She reached for my hand, shook it, and said "Tina".

I invited her to join me for dinner, and she told me about having just separated from her husband. After dinner she 'invited' me to follow her home for an after dinner drink.

I had forgotten what it was like to date someone. As a married couple, we'd undress, get into night clothes, and meet in bed. As strangers, it doesn't work that way, and it was a LOT more fun.

She 'led' me to our house, and waited while I parked the car. She took me by the hand - and we went - to the apartment!

We started in the living room, sitting on the sofa, having a cocktail.

And somehow, we were kissing each other. And somehow we slid from sitting, to laying beside each other, holding each other, and the kissing became more intense.

It's been too many years since I found myself fumbling with the buttons on her dress, and far too many since I felt someone else's hand release my belt, undo a pants clasp, and move against my skin, my belly, and lower, until it found my penis. And too many since my own hand moved up a nylon clad leg, and hip, to that place where the hose ended. And then feeling skin, and soon, warmth and moisture, too.

It was amazing and wonderful to watch as my wife, the woman I picked up, sat up and said "we really should go to my bedroom", and led me there.

She played her role to perfection, and it excited me, aroused me, to the point where she could have asked for, or done, anything.

We awoke in each other's arms the next morning. "Well, if you were a date, buster, you couldn't have stayed the night. That's only for 'special' men, like my husband."

She obviously liked the game, and I liked it, too. I wanted to know how much she was really into this: could it be as much as I was?

She answered the question indirectly, when she pointed to the hvac vents and said "Just think. The landlord might have been watching".

We were in each other's arms, still in the bed that Betty had used not so long ago. I asked "Like we watched Betty?"

"Yeah."

"How is she doing, being newly single?"

"She's still dating a lot. She hasn't found anyone really special yet, but she sure is having fun looking. She's having sex with a couple of different guys, too."

Tina made some of the motions that told me she was still turned on Betty's activities. Good! My own cock was erect again, too, and Tina noticed that.

There were some more kisses, and stroking and talking.

"What would you want to do if you had been going out on dates before we got married?" A leading question.

"I guess I'd do what Betty does."

"You mean, date a guy a couple of times, and if you like him a little, take him home, and. . ."

"Yeah."

"That really excites me."

"You don't have to tell me that" she said, her hand stroking the evidence, "Too bad I don't have stories, like Betty does, to tell you."

I rolled on her, horny again. I couldn't help saying "maybe you should get some stories, like Betty's."

I told you Tina was smart. "So you can get turned on by the stories or do you want to use channel 30?" she wanted to know, as I proved I was turned on, but not by the stories, but by thinking what it would look like to see someone between her legs, like I was, right then.

At the height of that passion, her own motions became more urgent. I didn't help by suggesting a scenario.

"Maybe this could be like flooding. Maybe you could pretend to be separated."

Now I could feel tension in her body, and her pelvis was working in opposition to mine, meeting mine hard, then us withdrawing together, and meeting again, matching me, stroke for stroke.

"You could pretend to live in the apartment."

Her feet, which had been on the bed, extended, and she wrapped her legs around me.

"And you could bring your dates back there."

Her breath became shallow, and fast. So did mine.

"And if you liked them, maybe you'd let them have sex with you."

There were gasps in her breathing, now, and her legs were wrapped tightly around me, her arms, too. I wasn't exactly calm, either.

"And, " I continued, "All the time you'd be fucking them, you'd know I'd be watching you, your every move."

That thought, that statement, did me in, made me come: she did, too.

After we cooled down, she had a realization. "You want to watch, like you did on the beach. . ."

"Yeah, if you did that, sure. After all, we are married. And you couldn't fall in love or anything: you'd be just dating, and getting more experience, flooding. . ."

As we lay there afterwards, Tina pressed the issue. "Look, don't be mad when I tell you that just then I was pretending you were someone I was dating. And I think you were thinking about what it would be like if I was, weren't you?"

I confessed.

She went on. "Getting married, then dating, is kind of the wrong order. So's fucking, then falling in love, or fucking, and not loving the guy. But just fucking for fun is kind of like masturbating, huh?"

"Maybe - mutual masturbation?"

She had an epiphany! "You WANT me to date, don't you? To do that? Even though I'm married to you?"

I was silent.

"Come on, big guy. 'Fess up. You want me to do that, don't you?"

"Mmm hmmm."

"And have sex with someone?"

"Mmm Hmmm."

"While you were watching? - No, SO you could watch. That's it, isn't it?"

"Maybe. When you say it out loud like that it sounds pretty awful, but maybe."

She wasn't angry at me when I said that.

I continued. "And I think watching you, then having sex with you, would be the sexiest thing in the world."

She still wasn't angry.

"Maybe. Maybe it would be," is how the she ended the conversation.

The next night I took a huge chance, and tried to move the idea along. I offered the whole scenario I had imagined.

I wasn't subtle.

"Tina, if you want to, you can act single for a while, until Computer Associates starts using the apartment next month. We could take some of your things down to the apartment, and you can pretend to live there. We'll get a separate phone number for you, and it'll ring up here, too, and you can do the things Betty does, and still be married to me. You could tell the guys you were moving out of state soon, too, so they'd know it wasn't a long term thing."

Then we were quiet, each lost in our own thoughts, and each ashamed to talk about them.

"Exactly what do you want me to do, Bob?" she asked.

"You know, pretend you're divorced or separated or something. You can meet some guys, fool around and all, then break it off, because you're moving away. . I don't want you to get serious or emotional about someone else, but, like, you know, I do get turned on when I think about you dating like that. Look, when people do stuff like this they create what's called a legend. Yours could be that what we've been talking about, that you're separated, and if you need a way to break off a relationship you could say you're moving out the end of the month, maybe back home, to, oh I don't know, maybe wherever Betty came from. Use her story as your legend."

"And you'd want to watch everything I did, huh? Everything?"

"Yeah, I'd watch. That would have to be part of the deal. Otherwise, it would seem like you were kind of cheating."

What a line of bullshit, and I believed it, too!

"One other thing, Tina. Only do this if you can open yourself up to new experiences. That's really the whole point."

OK, we all know the whole point was my being a voyeur, but it sounded good.

We had sex - she started it - again, and again in our minds at least we had someone else in the bed with us that night.

"I was talking to Betty about dating, how she goes about it" Tina told me the next night, after still another night of sex, instigated by her.

"What did she say?"

"She meets guys through the personal ads in Newsday."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she talks with them a couple of times on the phone, kind of screening them. If she likes what she hears, they arrange to meet for a drink or dinner or something."

"If that goes well, she may tell them where she lives, and on the next date she gets picked up at her place."

"So that's how it works, huh?"

"Yeah. Here's the thing though. She told me if she likes the guy, they'll probably have sex on the third or fourth date. If she doesn't, there simply is no third date!"

"Oh! And how often does she have a third or fourth date?"

"Honey, she's had sex with about six guys in the last couple of months. And now she doesn't even see four of those guys anymore - what ever attracted them together wore off, and they just 'went away' with no bad feelings or anything. She's kind of serious about the other two, but so far she's mainly just having fun. Honey, she told me she was dating people within a week of placing the ad."

"I didn't think people as old as we are (we, dear readers, were in our late 20's then) dated that much."

"They do here, Bob."

Well, she left it out there - it was an unasked question.

I asked it. "Were you asking her about this because you were just curious, or were you asking her because you're thinking about, uh, doing it yourself?"

"A little of both. Bob, I don't know anything about dating or anything, except for what Betty told me, and what we used to do."

"I guess you'd have to start by putting an ad in the paper. Do like she does, talk to them, decide which ones you'd like to meet. You know, that part scares me. I don't want you meeting guys you really like - just guys you'd like to date a few times. Then, I guess you'd meet some guys, date a couple you like, stuff like that, stuff like Betty does."

"You really do want me to do this, don't you?"

"Just so long as you remember this is for fun, and you are in real life married to me, yeah, you could date them."

"How many guys could I date?"

"The apartment's ours for only the rest of the month. As many as you want, for the month."

Tina likes to tease me. "Remember, honey, Betty told me that if she liked some guy, she'd bring him home on about the third date. If I thought a guy was nice, honey, and sexy, how many times could I date him, hmmm?"

My own cock was stirring.

She pushed through my silence.

"Could I date them three times, Bob? Three times each?"

Instant erection.

"Bob, what if I wanted to date some guys who weren't like you. You know, not engineers, not 6 feet tall: as different as I could find. Would that be OK, too?"

"Sure."

"And if I thought some of the guys was nice, You know I would want to date them more than once."

She didn't often touch my penis, but she had it in her hand, now, and was stoking it.

"Yes," I agreed with her statement, and with her touching me.

"If I wanted to, I'd probably date some of them three times."

The magic number!

Her hand was moving faster now.

"Because, these days, if you date someone three times you're probably going to fuck them, Bob."

I was very aware that my wife, an ex-nun, was masturbating me, and I could tell by her expression, really enjoying the power she had over me at that instant.

"I'll do it, you know. I'll do it if you say I can date them three times, and screw them, Bob. . . while you watch?"

My cock throbbed worse than it did on Fire Island. We'd just had sex, I was empty, I thought, but what she was doing, what she was saying, all felt so good. "Yes, three times. . ." I said, my penis throbbing.

"And?" she prompted, her hand moving faster.

"And have sex with them. . . while I watch" I puffed, watching myself ejaculate, jetting from my penis, over her hand, over her hip, to the bed,

" I knew you'd say that."

And we slept in each other's arms, my last thoughts were of her with someone else downstairs, and her thoughts, probably, were of exactly the same thing.

I was out of the house before she awoke the next morning. Just as well, I didn't want to face her after last night. That's not the kind of stuff I was brought up to think about, and neither was she. Guilt and shame were a big part of that whole day. Sister Mary-Catherine would be proud.

I got home with some "forgive us our trespasses" roses that evening. I found her at the computer writing ads.

She wasn't insulted or angry at all, and accepted the roses with a big kiss - lots of tongue, lots of promise for the night.

"Look!" She showed me the results of her efforts on the computer.

"N/S WF 29 yrs, blond, 120 5-8, fit, ready for fun, not ready for a serious relationship.

Respond with photo to box TBD or leave voice mail at extension 555-1589 extension TBD." the box number and extension number are provided by the newspaper.

So much for Sister Mary-Catherine.

"Where did this come from?"

"Well, it's kind of what Betty wrote."

"Are you really going to place it?"

"You place it for me!"

And, we were off to bed again.

And this husband, the next day, went to the Newsday office and placed an ad his wife wrote, for the express purpose of getting dates so she could get fucked! Does that make me a pimp? I went through the next week really distracted.

Sure, we fucked and played around.

"Is being a voyeur really worth being cuckolded?" she asked, more than once.

My big head wasn't sure, but my little head had absolutely no doubts.

During the first ten days of January Tina got 24 letters, and about as many voice mail messages. The letters were much more informative. About ten of them were hardly readable, but five were written by guys who knew who to write, and whose photos were nice enough.