1. Nancy's Misgivings
For over a month Nancy and I had a really great time watching and re-watching the video I'd made of her having sex with several guys one September night in San Francisco. We also talked about it a lot. I especially liked her telling me, as we watched her in action in the video, how she'd felt and what she'd been thinking as the guys did various things to her.
Recently (it was in late October), she surprised me, however, by telling me that she'd been slightly put off by the San Francisco experience. Actually, she almost blurted it out, as though she'd been keeping her feelings to herself for some time. Sure, she admitted, all that fucking and oral sex had been really exciting, even if Carlo's cock was so large that she was sore afterwards. And she admitted that she hadn't faked the several orgasms she'd had.
But she'd made a decision. While she knew how much I liked watching her in sexual situations, she didn't want to return to a full-on fuck session with one or more guys anytime soon.
Having sex with someone besides me was OK with her, she continued. She'd experienced only a slight feeling of guilt, left over from her conventional upbringing, while being "disloyal" to me. A more practical problem for her was that having sex with several men was somehow too confusing, too out of control, for her to enjoy completely.
"I hope I'm not disappointing you," she said. "I'd still like to do some sort of sex theater for you. And, the truth is I enjoy it too. But, for a while at least, I'd like to go back to something more controlled. I like "accidentally" showing myself off, and you've seen how I get off on letting guys fool around with my body. Could you settle for watching me in that sort of scene again?"
It was clear to me that Nancy was uneasy, at some level, about what had gone in San Francisco. Her explanation of this uneasiness, however, was far from coherent. The experience had been "exciting" and even orgasmic for her. But she claimed that having sex with more than one man at a time was "confusing" to her. Based on this feeling, she was suddenly insistent that full-on intercourse, even with one man, needed to be suspended for a while.
I decided not to argue with her, though. I suspected that this reservation of hers was something that would pass, especially if a sex theater situation got interesting enough. I just needed to be patient.
And how could I forget the excitement I'd felt back in Colorado five years earlier spying on my wife through a peephole as several of her male classmates felt her up, finger-fucked her, and ate her cunt until she came. That was when we had definite rules: there was to be no intercourse and she wouldn't take their cocks in her mouth. Only recently, since moving to the West Coast, had we changed the rules (at her suggestion!) so that she would suck guys' cocks and let them fuck her.
I kissed her reassuringly and said, "Sure, Nancy. I don't want you doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. And you know how much I loved those horny situations you got into back in Golden."
She smiled at me teasingly. "And maybe, if you're really good, Cal, I might get really, really carried away and go a little bit beyond the rules. But only with one guy at a time, and I want to be pretty selective, OK?" So, even now her resolve was slipping away.
"I'll be good," I said, "whatever that means."
She kissed me deeply and said: "Let's make a plan right now. Then let's go into the bedroom and fuck."
We brainstormed for about an hour before getting so turned on by the ideas we were considering that we played the dirty San Francisco video again and fucked on the floor. It actually took us two weeks to decide on a loosely organized scheme that satisfied both of us.
2. Driving to Reno
Implementing our plan, on a cool day in early November we drove over the mountains to Reno. Berkeley is large and pretty anonymous, but we wanted to lower the risk of running into people we knew. Besides, we enjoyed gambling.
Our plan was pretty outrageous in that it would involve my playing the part of a hypnotist. So I got together several props, including a little frog figurine and a black velvet sleeping mask. We weren't sure the plan would come to fruition, but we were ready anyway.
As we drove east on I-80, a few miles west of Sacramento, Nancy surprised me by announcing that she felt like getting herself "in the mood" by exposing herself to some truck drivers. She'd never done this before but said she'd read about it somewhere. "I've always wondered how much those guys can see looking down into cars," she said. "And it might be fun."
No wonder she'd chosen to wear, despite a chill in the air, low-heeled sandals and a low-cut sun dress with absolutely nothing underneath. And with the dress's top button undone, as she was wearing it now, it became even more low-cut. I could see that this truck-driver flashing idea, though she hadn't mentioned it to me, was hardly spontaneous.
"You mean, if they look," I answered. "Mostly they're paying attention to the road, I think. Or at least I hope they are." Perversely, while I found the idea of my wife exposing herself to a strange guys driving struck exciting, I felt like being a wet blanket.
"Well, it's a long drive, so let's give it a try, anyway" said Nancy. "First, you need to help me figure out a good pose. I'd like something that looks natural and innocent, if possible. I don't want to get arrested for solicitation or something."
She put on her sun-glasses and slid the passenger seat back as far as it would go to give herself maximum leg room. Then she reclined her seat and lay back as though napping. She pulled the hem of her dress up so high that her gorgeous naked thighs and little tuft of reddish-blonde pubic hair were on gorgeous display. From my angle, at least. I doubted a truck driver looking down through our passenger window could see what I could see.
"How does this look?" she asked.
"Well, it would be a great leg-and-pussy show if we were in a convertible." I reached over with my right hand and reached between her legs. She obliged me by spreading her legs wider apart so I could feel her moist, warm cunt.
"Mmm. That really feels good," she said. "Maybe some drivers would enjoy watching you masturbate me."
Just then, though, she decided that the safety belt was in her way. She quickly sat up, forcing my hand from between her legs, and unsnapped the belt. Then she slumped back in the seat again, this time with her left leg stretched out straight in front of her and her right leg crossed over it mid-thigh. She'd turned her body slightly away from me so that her right knee almost touched the inside of the passenger door. This caused the hem of her skirt to gather around her waist. She was virtually naked from the waist down.
And, of course, in this position her crotch was, potentially at least, on display to anyone sitting high enough (like a truck or bus driver) to look down on it.
"If you pass some trucks slowly, I'll peek up and check out how the drivers react. They can't see my eyes behind these shades, so they'll just think I'm asleep."
The traffic was fairly heavy, but since we were on a four-lane stretch it didn't take long, driving in the left-middle lane, to come up next to a large rig in the right-middle lane. It was some sort of moving van.
"Are you ready for this guy?" I asked. By way of an answer, she spread her thighs a little further apart and yawned, as though really about to take a nap. She rolled her head away from me so she could look up through her window. Nancy is something of a method actress.
As we slowly pulled up about fifteen feet to the left-rear of the cab, I looked up into the truck's side-view mirror but couldn't see the driver's face. He must have been sitting back and looking straight ahead. Then, noticing that we weren't blowing past him, I suppose, he leaned forward and suddenly a salt-and-pepper mustachioed face was framed in his side-view mirror. He was peering back and down at us.
"We've got his attention now," I said. "Hold that pose and I'll pull up right next to him." I was starting to get into this new game of Nancy's. Looking over at my wife pretending to be asleep while deliberately trying to expose her crotch to a complete stranger was making my cock twitch.
"What does he look like?" she whispered.
"The Frito Bandito, maybe. He's got that kind of mustache." Then something occurred to me. I'd put our video camera in the back seat. It might be possible to video truck drivers' reactions if I placed it on the console between our seats and aimed it up toward the cabs of the trucks. But I decided to forget it for now. Maybe driving back we could try it.
Anyway, I carefully brought our car up so that Nancy was stretched out almost directly below the truck driver's side window. We were only going around 60 miles per hour, but I knew this was no time to get careless. Safety required that I keep an eye on traffic while only risking brief glances at her beautifully obscene display.
"Is he looking down at you?" I asked.
Nancy answered without moving her lips, like a ventriloquist: "I'm not sure. I can just see his arm. Oops. Yes, I can see him now. And he's definitely looking down. He's sort of craning his neck to see more." Then she was silent for a few seconds. "Now he's sitting up straight again and I can't see him. Maybe he lost interest."
"I don't think he lost interest," I said. "It's just that he's moving up on a slower moving truck and has to slow down. I'm going to go ahead and pass the slow truck now. Let's see what the Bandito does then."
