My Woman His Woman

This story is dedicated to Ron and Lauren - they know why.

*****

We sat in the darkness, paying no particular to the ballet unfolding on the stage before our eyes. We were, all three of us, super aware of something else: of the sizzling presence, the closeness of each of us sitting in the shadows - Helmut, Adrienne and me. I knew Adrienne so very well, and I could tell she was nervous. I'd been watching her all day long, watching the anticipation build. Watching her getting dressed, primping before the bedroom mirror, simmering with excitement. And now as we took our seats, I could tell she was tense, tingling with the same nervous energy I felt. I had no idea what Helmut was feeling; as usual he seemed unflappable, smooth and suave.

When we met in the crowded lobby, we exchanged a few polite words, and he gave us his usual self-assured smile, the smile of middle-aged highly-successful entrepreneur. Helmut was older than us, in his mid-50s; a good-looking guy, with a short chiseled beard showing the first signs of gray, inevitably polite and always with a twinkle in his blue eyes, especially for the ladies.

And when I introduced them, he turned his full charm onto Adrienne, who stood in her little black dress looking up at him from under her fringe of bangs with that look I well knew —the look she reserved for all interested males. I saw Helmut's gaze pass appreciably over Adrienne's narrow body in that form-fitting dress, the thin strappy thing that left her slim arms and lanky shoulders deliciously bare, and allowed and just a peek of her darling little tits.

I saw the look of frank appraisal he gave her as his gaze traveled down her long figure taking in those elegant legs I loved so much in dark stockings and ending at the delicate open-strapped heels she wore.

With my hand lightly on Adrienne's waist we climbed the carpeted stars and were shown to our balcony seats, all in silence. Words were not necessary. All three of us knew why we there, and all about the secret game that we had come to play.

***

As the lights went down I glanced over at Adrienne who sat perfectly erect, as though unaware that she was sandwiched between two men. I looked down at her lap to see the short dress had ridden up to expose a generous portion of her nyloned legs. She made no attempt to righten that errant hemline, but just sat perfectly still. I saw her fingers tighten into fists in her lap. The orchestra launched into an adagio; the dancers stirred into liquid motion. After a few moments, I saw Helmut shift out of the corner of my eye. He leaned forward and turned to face me with a nod and an inquisitive look. I smiled and nodded, although my permission was not needed. Then, in the shadows, I saw his right hand move across to come to come to rest on Adrienne's left knee. She didn't move a muscle as Helmut's big hand slid smoothly up her thigh, nosing back the hem of her dress several inches before coming to rest there with a proprietary air.

I looked to Adrienne's pretty face half hidden by the bowl of dark curved hair. She sat rigidly upright; her features set and tense, eyes forward. I saw just the very tip of her tongue peek out to make a quick pass over her curled upper lip. The man's hand that was warming her thigh now moved, in a slow hypnotic caress on top of her stockinged left thigh.

I leaned over to bring my lips close to my wife's ear and in a hoarse dry whisper told her: "Go on. Lift your dress up." I saw her swallow a knot of lust as, keeping her eyes on the stage, she lifted her bottom up a few inches from the seat, so as to work the thin skirt up to the top of her legs. Now in the shadows we could see the several inches of the startling white flesh of her smooth thighs banded by the wide elastic of her thigh-high stockings. I looked to Helmut. He smiled and nodded his silent approval.

Adrienne sat there letting us get a good look at her long legs, her splendid thighs. Meanwhile her breathing thickened; her slight bosom rising and falling in deepening undulations. I felt a surge of lust, suddenly aware of how much the game was getting to my highly-sexed wife, and to me. I knew her well; she'd be wet by now. Helmut returned to stroking her through the stocking, casually letting his fingertips explore the smooth silken contours. He savored the feel of the firmly packed nylon, slick and smooth, warm and slightly moist. Adrienne let out a tight little gasp between pressed lips.

Again I leaned close to her tense body, drew in a whiff of her heady perfume. I reached up to touch her flushed cheek, slid back a fold of dark silky hair, and breathed in her pretty little ear: "All the way now...to your waist." She shivered, looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching, then her trembling hands went to her sides to grab two handfuls of her dress and lift them up over her hips. The gesture uncovered all of her legs and between them her furry vulva, showing us what I already knew - my girl wore no panties for this - her first date with Helmut.

I looked at her closely. Her face was flushed, her brow damp, cheeks moist and blushing. She avoided my intense gaze; kept her face firmly forward. But I knew she was powerfully aroused to sit there in her rucked-up skirt, exposing her womanhood to two hungry men in the darkened theater.

Helmut shifted back in his seat to look to the stage while he let his right hand drift towards the exposed cunt of the woman who sat beside him. He let his fingers lightly graze in her pussyhair. Adrienne stiffened. Two fingertips pressed into the soft flesh just at the top of the slit. Adrienne bit off a thin whimper.

"Hold onto the arms of the chair. Spread your legs," I hissed.

I watched the knees obediently open a few inches, inviting the inquisitive hand to gain easier access to her honeypot. Helmut, not yet satisfied with her progress, wedged the hand between her legs and nudged them further apart, opening my randy wife up for his further explorations.

The fingers trailed down along the puffy lips, pressed inward, rubbed up and down. The hands tightened to clamp the padded arms of her chair as if determined to hold on, while her hips shifted helplessly under the intense stimulation.

She shuddered as an electric thrill ran through her body at the touch of that masculine hand on her most intimate parts. Helmut, his gaze intense, closed in on the passion-soaked woman, slid his fingers decisively right under her crotch to cup her moist throbbing sex in the palm of his hand. Adrienne whimpered.

I watched her face. Her painted lips moved, falling open as if to say something, although not a word came out; her breathing deepened through her opened mouth. Now her eyes fluttered close, her body slackened ad she lay back, legs sprawled open, giving herself up to a sensual lassitude that settled in on her as her skillful lover openly manipulated her damp womanhood.

She bit her lip, barely suppressing a moan as, with nothing more than a tantalizing promise, his hands began to gently fondle her exposed pussy. He held Adrienne's lightly furred vulva in the palm of his hand, and gave her a light squeeze.

The tantalized woman couldn't keep her tightly-pressed lips together - a tiny whimper escaped to deepen into a breathy, plaintive moan. At the barely muffed sound a few gray heads turned our way from down the row of adjacent seats. But if she was aware of the furtive glances of our fellow patrons of the arts, she was now beyond caring.

I saw the waves of dreamy pleasure slacken her face, as she let herself savor the warming feel of that most intimate deep caress. Her eyes fluttered open; she looked down to watch the pleasuring hand through half-lidded eyes. It was then that Helmut sent a crooked finger up between those slick lips. The woman grunted at the sudden stab of pleasure.

A second finger joined the first. Two curved fingers were now firmly lodged up Adreinne's hot wet cunt. He jigged his wrist, finger fucking my grunting wife, while I watched her arch back in her chair, tossing her head from side to side. The thrusting hand speeded up in a determined blur; a frenzy of passion gripped the man. His victim whimpered, then as I watched her face, her features scrunched up, tightening in the throes of ecstasy. A powerful climax rippled up from her superheated crotch. She threw back her head and clenched her teeth against the massive surge pleasure.

A long plaintive keening was followed by a moan, an open-mouthed hollow moan that caused heads to turn in our direction. But the passion-soaked woman was far from caring. Her shoulders heaved and she slumped forward, struggling for breath, panting like a thoroughbred after the big race. Helmet quickly withdrew his hand, saturated with her juices. He took out a handkerchief and methodically wiped his fingers, while the totally-spent female collapsed into her chair. Her long body lay slack in the red velvet chair: abandoned, black dress hoisted up her thighs, legs sprawled open, her throbbing, saturated cunt left exposed for all the world to see.

The End