Not Another Loving Wives Tale!

(Thanks to Wicked woman for a proofread. Any errors remain mine)

"Darling, Jim wants me to go to his place tonight and discuss sex."

My dear wife Cassie sure knew how to get my attention.

"Why?" I asked, curious but cautious.

"Well, you know how Jim likes to read stories on Literotica, just like we do? He's decided that it is time for him to write a story for the site, and someone suggested he needed to do research into what women really think about sex."

I had so many questions, but started with one.

"Why you?"

"Since his divorce, Jim hasn't really dated much. A few "safety dates" with friends to functions, but nothing romantic. I guess he figures that at least part of the reason he divorced Lorna is that he never really understood how her mind worked."

"And you're the only woman he knows?" I tried to keep my tone playful.

Cassie chuckled, then blushed slightly.

"Jim told me that he thinks he needs to write a Loving Wives tale for Literotica, to shake loose of the sex demons that have plagued him since Lorna left him. For that reason, he wanted to talk to a happily married woman, and I guess I'm the only one of those he knows who is aware of his interest in Literotica."

Jim had accidentally let that slip out during one of the many nights he spent over at our place after Lorna left, drowning his tears in my good scotch, and my finest bourbon. Sobbing as he answered a question from Cassie about why Lorna had left, he had confessed that she had walked in on him masturbating while reading online sex stories.

He had been instantly mortified by this confession, until Cassie had laughed and shared with him that we both loved spicing things up with regular visits to our favourite story site.

"If Lorna had any sense, she would have just slipped into the room, fallen to her knees and given you a blow job while you finished the story," Cassie had suggested. "Or maybe climbed up on your lap and bounced up and down while you both read. That's one of Rob and my favourite things to do in the morning while we wait for the coffee to brew."

"Well, she didn't do either of those. She screamed at me, called me a perv, and stormed out."

"What sort of story were you reading?" I had asked. "Incest or BDSM or something out there?"

"Rob, that's pretty personal," Cassie had interjected.

"No, I don't mind telling you guys. It was a Loving Wives story - a couple swapping with their best friends. Not that I think she looked closely enough to notice. I think it was the fact she saw my hard cock in my fist that got her attention more than what was on the screen."

"Maybe she should have been more used to seeing your hard cock," Cassie had mused, while my mind was busy thinking that swapping stories likely got better reception in the Group Sex category. "I know how much I love looking at Rob's, including watching him jerk off. The way it swells is fascinating. I can't help but lick my lips every time Rob's slit starts gaping open, and especially when a droplet of fluid appears, I always want to lick it clean."

Cassie had not blushed even a bit as she had shared the intimate details of her sexual longings with my oldest friend.

"Well, Lorna isn't like you," Jim had responded.

"Too bad," I had added to the conversation, which soon had veered off in another direction.

That had been six months ago, and in the time since, Jim had continued to visit regularly, and often the three of us had compared notes on the latest postings on Literotica. I thought Jim's obsession with Loving Wives stories was perhaps unhealthy, and tried to steer him towards erotic couplings, or some more exotic category. So many sad sack broken ex-husbands showed up as trolls in the story comments on Literotica. I did not want Jim going down that road.

Cassie's contribution had been to try fixing Jim up with a few of her single and divorced friends, avoiding his "too soon" objections by just inviting them over when we knew Jim would be over. However, nothing had ever come of Cassie's efforts. Maybe, she realized, it really was too soon, and Jim needed to get over Lorna before he could move on.

So it made sense when Cassie explained to me that when Jim expressed interest in writing a Loving Wives tale for Literotica, Cassie was pleased. She knew the risks - the vicious trolls of that category could shatter Jim's already fragile ego, or, even worse, the very act of trying to exorcise the demons left behind by Lorna might launch Jim deep into a pit of despair. So when Jim invited Cassie to be part of his writing process, she felt obligated to agree, if only to try to steer Jim along a healthy path, perhaps one that led to a happy ending with one of Cassie's friends - though if Jim hooked up with a woman of his own choosing, that would do just as well.

"And it's not like the three of us don't talk about sex all the time." Cassie concluded. "Ever since we shared our love for Literotica, that has become our default subject."

"Well, you aren't interested in sports, so if Jim and I chat basketball, you'd be bored to tears. But somehow it's different, thinking about you and Jim, talking sex without me."

I did not add 'especially over at his place', though I thought it. I was unsure why that made me uneasy.

Jim was important to me, closer than a blood relative, and rehabilitating him had become very important to Cassie. I could not deny her the opportunity to help him and could not even risk spoiling it by expressing misgivings. In addition, saying anything would be such an atypical display of jealousy that Cassie might feel like I did not trust her. And we had always been secure in our mutual trust, and love. Saying 'don't do this' was out of the question. But, for some reason, that was the urge that I had to resist. Those were the words that flashed through my brain.

"Jim just wants a woman's perspective for his story, honey." Cassie tried again to reassure me.

This time, I wanted to ask 'can't he just email you a draft to comment on?' or 'why not just chat on the phone?' but these felt like things a desperate and insecure husband might say, and I was not that guy.

It was as if Cassie could read my mind.

"Jim was willing to do it over the computer, but I told him that I might need a glass or two of wine to relax to really be comfortable talking sex alone with a guy other than my hubby. A computer chair is way too structured for that mood. Jim has that nice comfy couch in front of his real wood fireplace. That should set the atmosphere just right, don't you think so?"

'Just right for what - a seduction?' I wanted to ask, but did not, because I had nothing to fear. Cassie might enjoy banter with Jim, and clearly enjoyed being able to share our mutual passion for erotica with him, but she was one hundred percent faithful to me.

So why then did doubt creep in? And just who did I fear would seduce whom? Jim was in no shape to make a move on any woman, especially a happily married friend whose hubby happened to be his best buddy.

Which left the possibility that maybe my trust in Cassie was not as solid as I would like to believe it was. In that moment, I knew that this was what I would be preoccupied with the whole time she was at Jim's. I also quickly figured out that no matter how much I trusted her, I knew that accidents happen, and that wine, a fire, a couch, maybe some soft music, could easily result in the unexpected.

Still, expressing doubt would be a first in my relationship with Cassie, so that was not a place I wanted to go.

So what I said was, "I hope that you can be a great inspiration for him, and that writing the story will allow him to finally move past Lorna. I know that you have lots of friends who would be great matches for Jim."

Cassie rewarded me with her most dazzling grin, then went to serve out our meal. Dinner passed just like any other night, gossip about our jobs, discussion of the news of the day, comparing ideas about what to plant in the spring, if spring ever came.

As I watched Cassie's tongue sensuously lick her ice cream spoon clean, I said, "You go get ready, I'll clean the kitchen."

That earned me an even brighter smile. I admired Cassie's ass as she pranced out of the room up towards the bedroom suite. For what may have been the thousandth time, I congratulated myself on marrying a woman who was smart, funny, passionate, and still kept in terrific shape.

Clattering crockery and running water for the dishes almost spared me wondering why Cassie felt she had to shower before heading over to Jim's place.

I got barely a glance at her as she dashed back into the kitchen just as I put the last fork in the drawer, planting a firm kiss on my cheek. The scent of her best perfume filled the room.

Cassie was dressed quite conservatively, like she might if going for a glass of wine with a lady friend, not dolled up for a date. She wore slacks and a sweater that flattered her figure without flaunting the firmness of her pert breasts or the perfect curves of her ass.

The four inch heels did tilt that rump up invitingly - I sure noticed it as I watched her head to the door - but I knew she would be kicking them off to snuggle onto Jim's couch soon enough anyhow. Somehow though, that image did not make me feel better, it just made my cock throb harder.

You might expect to hear that I spent the evening nervously fretting, wondering what Cassie and Jim were getting up to, whether they just talked about sex or if it led further, but such was just not the case. I spent my time wisely, putting a stew in to cook while watching a basketball game. I barely thought of Cassie and what she might be doing. I was so relaxed that, as often happens, I dozed off watching the game.

The phone ringing woke me from my slumbers on the couch.

It was Cassie calling.

"Jim thinks I've had one too many glasses of wine. Rather than just sit here waiting to sober up, he offered to let me sleep over in his guest room if that's okay with you."

I chuckled. I knew that Cassie 'waiting to sober up' would never happen. She might start out drinking a coffee while she waited, but soon it would be an Irish coffee, then a shot without the coffee, and then another. My beautiful wife seldom drank to excess, but there was that certain point of no return, after which she would simply carry on until she passed out. What made Cassie special though was that she passed that point just about the same time she started to show any effect of the alcohol. So if Jim thought she was drunk, it was too late for her to stop. The only part of it that made me a tad sad was that as Cassie slid into total inebriation tended to be when she became her most frisky and playful. Some of our most incredible sex occurred as she was on the verge of passing out. And I was about to miss out on that experience.

All I could do was tell Cassie that I understood, that if she called in the morning before she left Jim's, I would have hot coffee and pancakes waiting for her.

Pancakes with butter were Cassie's hangover special.

I was confident that if Cassie intended to fuck Jim, she would have said so, and went to bed knowing that she really would be in his guest room, not sharing a bed with him.

Still, the possibility, however remote, that my loving wife might be enjoying the thrill of a strange cock for the first time in years made my cock stiff, and I was unable to sleep with the erection. My palm curled around my shaft with the friendly familiarity of long years' practice. My frequency of masturbating had dropped off a cliff since I had met Cassie, but there were still nights we were apart, and, more often, times when I openly jerked off with Cassie present or nearby. Sometimes, she helped by reading me one of her favourite discoveries off Literotica. Cassie had a narrative style that added extra spice to the most mundane tales, and gusto to the climaxes.

I loved to watch Cassie's lips moving as she read erotica to me, to watch for the tell tale blossoming of her nipples hardening under her top, and her hips beginning to wriggle as she too became excited by what we were sharing. As I lay in our shared bed, without her present sharing it, that series of images played like a gif in my brain.

My cock rose on its own, without my touching it.

"So, old friend, you want to come out and play, do you?" I spoke as if my appendage had a mind of its own. I was not far enough gone to wait for a response before I wrapped my fingers around my rapidly stiffening shaft.

The heat radiated off my meat in its familiar fashion as I slowly stroked myself, feeling the silky outer skin stretch over the hard inner core until it grew to fullness. During that phase, I did not think at all about Cassie. My focus was solely on the mechanics of masturbation, that familiar and relaxing task.

"Maybe if I gush some great gobs of goo, that will help me sleep."

The eye of my cock winked back in agreement. It wanted to rest as well.

"I will have lots of time to recover before Cassie gets home."

My balls pulled taut to my taint.

"In fact, she'll appreciate it more if I'm well rested, and not hormonally overcharged."

My fist pumped my organ twice before I paused, another thought invading my head.

"But what if she's too tired to want to fuck, even after the pancakes?"

I mulled that over while I used the tip of my little finger to tickle the spot at the base of my shaft where my scrotum met my root.

"Cassie's almost never to tired to fuck," I chuckled. "And it's not like she and Jim are going to be up all night fucking or something. She'll be sleeping it off, and when she's like that, she sleeps soundly."

My cock throbbed in response. I gave it a few more pumps as a reward.

"Of course, when Cassie drinks, she does tend to get horny..."

Where did THAT come from? I had nothing but confidence in my wife's love and loyalty.

If this had been a typical Literotica story, no doubt I would have eased myself to sleep after a release of endorphins triggered by picturing Cassie making love with Jim. That was half right - I did jerk off, and the release did help me fall asleep, but the only images that flickered in my mind were of how sexy my wife was - recollections of her barely clad, a hint of forbidden flesh flashing for my eyes only, or perhaps teasing me as she teased another guy, or even perhaps a gal? Or the way that she would touch herself, peeping shyly to make sure I was watching - a cupping of her firm breast; a flick of a nipple; fingers softly caressing her labia through her clothing, or up her skirt...and oh, the clothes that she wore. The short, short skirts, all the better to follow the long lean thighs that vanished under the hem, or appreciate how her rump nestled under the fabric, almost, but not quite, winking out from the bottom edge, raising the eternal question - panties or not?

I also thought about how she looked at me - the life that shone in her eyes only for me; the shared grins and winks; the smiles that ran from coy to wanton; the glances to check whether I still got hard just watching her. Just thinking about that made me harder and brought me to the edge of orgasm.

Still, I stalled on the brink of climax, my meat throbbing in my fist as I lay there all alone on our marriage bed, doing all that I could NOT to think about the possibility of my loving wife fucking my best friend. I had to believe that Cassie was still in Jim's guest bed.

It helped that I literally could not picture Cassie crawling into Jim's bed. I knew that after he split with Lorna, he had disposed of their bedroom suite - not just the mattress, the whole set. I had no idea what sort of replacement he had purchased.

It helped that I DID know what the guest bed was like. There had been a party just over a year ago when Cassie and I had both had too much to drink, so we had slept over. The novelty effect had made both Cassie and I extremely horny, so our drunken sex was passionate, albeit more sloppy than athletic. There was a lot of giggling involved, as Cassie kept saying things like "be careful, don't want to wake Lorna up and make her jealous."

My response of course had been, "I bet it would be Jim who got jealous."

Thinking about that did not make thinking about Cassie alone in that bed, with Jim alone on the other side of the wall, any easier. What finally did help though, was recalling how great it had been, fucking Cassie in their guest bedroom. My darling had very few inhibitions to start with, and the alcohol had dissolved the few that existed. Thinking about it, while alone in our own bed, made my already hard cock throb urgently.

I could feel my balls draw up taut to my taint as I remembered Cassie cooing, "I bet Lorna isn't doing this right now," as she had lowered her mouth to my nipple. Dragging it away from my chest. She had known just when to stop before I barked out in pain and disturbed our hosts. Her lips had then danced down my torso, until she buried her tongue teasingly into my navel, almost, but not quite, distracting me from the way that her fingers were fondling my balls, one nail creeping up the under side of my shaft.

Picturing that caused my own hand to recreate the motion. I could feel my cock head swelling just like it had that night, except, of course, despite my mental recreation, there was no Cassie actually present to lower her lips over the helmet as my slit spilled the first seepage of seed like she had that night.

The night that Cassie slept over at Jim's, I finally filled my palm with great gobs of goo recalling how warm her mouth had felt on the night we had both shared Jim's guest bed. She had swallowed my first load that night but had barely let me catch my breath before her fist closed again around my still tumescent member and she had stroked me back to full hardness.

"I wonder which one will be more jealous and turned on listening to me bouncing on the bed - Jim or Lorna," Cassie had giggled as she climbed aboard me, lowering her wetness all the way down to my root effortlessly.

"Grab my tits, twist my nipples," she had demanded, none too quietly. As I 0obeyed, her moans had grown in intensity until they turned into groans, her head thrown back, her hair a messy mane as she thrashed wildly.

Cassie had fully released her lust without restraint. I lasted quite a while, which allowed her climax to build until she exploded so completely that her screams must have reverberated through the common wall. Finally, she had collapsed, her head on my chest, my wilting cock still encased within her gash as our juices stained Jim and Lorna's sheets.

The night that Cassie slept over at Jim's without me, I climaxed in my fist at the instant of remembering how great that sex had been. Definitely top ten. Maybe top five.

As I recreated the incident in my mind, I recalled wondering whether Jim and Lorna had ever fucked on those sheets, or if they might in the future, sharing our deposits very remotely, since I knew from our laundry that some how, each sex act left its own memories in the fabric.

As I lay there in my bed, Cassie's side empty, my seed seeping out of my palm, to wet our sheet, those thoughts of great sex in the guest bed once again made me fret that Jim might wander in during the night, to try to recreate some adventure that he and Lorna might have shared in the guest bed, although I had no idea whether they had or not.

Ultimately, I realized that Jim was too shattered by his experiences with Lorna to get up that much nerve. If anything happened between Jim and Cassie, it would be my wife sliding under his covers in the main bedroom, wanting to give him a gift of great sex and reassurance that he was still a man who could please a woman.

I could not see that actually happening, but if it did, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing. I was secure in my relationship with Cassie, and healing Jim would be worth the episode of sharing.