Sarah's Story

The mirror still showed the bruise, the reminder. Sam and I didn't need it to remind us what happened was real, we remember.

But that's the end of the story. It started last summer.

We both like doing things around the house, and we love the house we bought. The bad/good news is there are lots to do in a 50 year old house. I bugged my husband yet again. "Sam honey, we have to get the great room painted. I know you want to do it, but painting will take a lot of time, that ceiling is 12 feet high, and you're working such long hours there's no way you could get it done before our Labor Day party."

He agreed. Finally. A phone call or two later set up some appointments, and in two days we had arranged for a college kid to do the painting starting in a couple of weeks. House owners know that magic is really easy if the magic wand you wave has enough money on it.

That took pressure off Sam, he was feeling frisky. He began doing what we all do, sometimes, during the early stages of making love, during the touching teasing parts of foreplay. You know, when we tell ourselves we're making it more exciting for our partner, but what's really happening is we're making it more exciting for ourselves.

My husband of two years was doing that. "Honey, has anyone ever watched you while you were making love?" he asked while his fingers were caressing the inner part of my thigh.

"Of course not, Sam," I told him. "I mean, no one except the guy I was with, and you already know about all four of them, present company included. Besides, that's an odd question. Why, have you been watched?"

Oh, did he ever rise to that one. "A long time ago, yeah. Remember Marsha, that girl I used to date? We were climbing in the White Mountains, it was up the North Twin trail.

We were always horny back then. Our trail crossed a stream, so we walked along the shoreline a hundred yards, went around a bend, found a big rock, and used it as a bed."

"So you had outdoor sex, big deal. What about the watching part?"

"You know how the paths are on those mountains, they go right up ridges. That's what we thought that trail did. When we started hiking again, we found out the trail took a right turn when it crossed the stream. It passed within 10 yards of our, uh, bedrock. We looked down, and knew if anyone was on the trail they'd have seen us. The stream was noisy, we couldn't have possibly heard them. Well, we started back up the mountain, we used to go pretty fast, and it wasn't too long before we passed another couple. As we passed

the guy said something about 'We were watching you two back there.' I said I hoped they liked the show, and we just went up the trail."

He continued: "And know what, honey? I love North Twin!"

"So long as you don't love Marsha, that's OK." I reached between us, touching him the way he liked to be touched, stroking his cock. I know how to tease, too. "So you liked being watched, huh?You're bad. Did you and Marsha talk about it?"

"Oh sure, we talked about that a lot, we got off on knowing we were watched. But pretty soon, we broke up. That was the end of that."

"Hmm. So my man starred in a real life sex show, huh?"

"I didn't know it at the time, but yeah, I did. That couple watched me do this --" he couldn't wait any longer, and moved onto, make that into, me -- "and I'll bet they bumped uglies that night, thinking about what they saw."

"I hate that expression, your cock isn't ugly, I don't think my vagina is, either," I reminded him, as we moved in that comfortable rhythm we knew so well, "but baby, you can 'bump uglies' with me any time, especially when you're gonna start by telling me dirty stories."

I was thinking about what he told me later, after he had fallen asleep. I wanted to know more. The next time we were having pelvic percussion -- we have more ways of describing sex that you can imagine -- and I asked him about it. I wanted to get inside his head, and by proxy, Marsha's.

"About that time on North Twin -- that's not why you broke up with Marsha, is it?"

"No, no, it was other stuff. That being watched stuff, that part was fun, it added spice to life."

"I know you liked it, but did she, knowing someone saw her and you, uh. . "

"The word you're looking for is 'fucking', and yeah, we both got excited about that. Sort of like you are now," he said, accurately reading me. "You know, I think you're a little jealous."

"I am not, you're the man you are because of all you've done before you met me, and I wouldn't want to change you," I told him, and I really believed that, too. "But you sure knew how to have fun back then."

"I can't help that you were a lot more inhibited than me," he said. "Not that you're that up tight anymore."

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sensations he was causing, feeling Sam move in me, feeling him get a little warmer, a little bigger, a little closer to the cliff's edge, just like I was.

"Would you like to do something like that," he said, pushing hard into me, "arrange it so someone could watch you fuck?"

I couldn't answer right than, my wave was just about to break -- and it did. A second or two later I felt him pushing hard into me, and was able to feel that pumping that meant his orgasm started, too.

It was during the warm and wet cuddling that followed, a time when he was having that slow deep breathing that meant he was asleep, that I muttered an answer to the question he asked, whispering it into his neck: "I think I would, yeah, I think I just might like to be watched."

I awoke the next morning spooned into him, felt his hand on my breast. "You were pretty good last night," he whispered into my throat. "I'd give you a C plus, maybe a B minus."

I reached behind me, felt him hardening. "I could do evenbetter if this thing was just bigger, Sam honey," I told him, while that thing got big enough. "Were you actually in me? I couldn't tell."

Uh, readers, about our banter -- we can get away with saying things like that because we're very secure with each other. Otherwise, it would be the start of a war, wouldn't it?

"Now about last night," he said, "I guess I was dreaming, but if I was, in my dream you were saying you'd like to be watched sometime."

I love the way he makes it easy for me to escape from embarrassing circumstances. How easy it would be to say "You must have been dreaming, honey, I wouldn't want to do anything like that."

I wiggled against him instead, feeling his penis against my buttocks.

"Maybe that would be really something," I said, "to be watched." His cock twitched against me.

"I'd like that, too, 'cause I think we're awfully sexy together," his voice was a little hoarse.

Sam was getting off on that idea, I wanted to bring him back to earth. "But how could we do that, let someone see us, how, and still be safe?"

"I don't know, let's think about that. Uh, let's think about that some other time. Right now why don't we think about what we'd do, you know, if we knew we were being watched?"

"Wellll, If someone was watching," I said, "I'd like them to see how big you are. I'd like to show them how big I can make you, when I do this."

I uncovered his penis, the "Big Horn." "I'd like them to know how well I can play your little Big Horn."

By then I was nibbling on its shaft.

"And how much of it I can take in my mouth."

No, I don't know how to deep throat, don't want to learn (so don't volunteer, guys), but I sure know how to get my husband hot.

It didn't take long before said "honey, if you keep doing that you're going to get a hot protein snack. Or, I could make that deposit in your personal vault, where it belongs. But I'm not going to have much of a choice in another minute or two, it's going to be a demand deposit."

I knew that, I could feel him throbbing.

"Take that to my bank, mister," I said, rolling off him, rolling onto my back, spreading my legs for him.

It didn't take him too long to let go.

"Already making a withdrawal, huh?" I asked, as he pulled away, "You must have used the express lane."

"Couldn't control myself, honey. First of all, you give head as good as a man could want, and on top of that you play with my other head, its insides, I mean. I mean, I was thinking about being watched, knowing someone was watching you do that, and, oh boy, no control at all. It was like I was a teenager, I was that quick. I'm sorry, I hope I didn't leave you hanging somewhere."

"I'm not really hanging," I assured him, "but there is a penalty for an early withdrawal."

"Oh? You're tough. What penalty?"

"You have to make another deposit. I guess I have to help you, uh, 'raise some capital', see if we can get a little 'inflation in the local economy', to get ready to do that," I told him, touch him, finding him still long, but soft.

I usually know how to tease him erect, and now I had another tool. "So you want someone to see Mr. Big Horn, huh? Mr. Big Horn, doing the nasty on me? Do you think some guy would get hard, watching us? Think about that, someone getting an erection, seeing us have sex. Do you like that idea?"

I was nuzzling his belly, stoking him, while I was talking. His penis was filling back out! Oh, men are so easy.

He wasn't at his hardest, not when I went down on him, tasting the flavors of us, smelling our scents.

He did get harder when I told him about the tastes, the scents. Then I said "I think it would be fun, knowing someone was watching me do this to you, knowing he was getting hard, just like you're getting hard. Why, you may actually be hard enough for me to ride Big Horn." He was already on his back, it was easy to move over him, easy to position myself, to hold him erect, and to settle on him, pelvis to pelvis, meshed together. "Just lay there, I'll do the work, you think about someone looking at us, maybe from over there," -- I gestured over his head, where someone would see all of me, and his cock, stationary, as I moved on it --- "maybe you should tell me what he'd be thinking, watching us."

Oh, it was working, he was harder, now. "He'd be thinking how sexy you are, he'd be thinking he wanted to be the man under you, that you'd be riding him, and he'd have to be masturbating," he said, picking up my rhythms, moving with me.

Somehow we moved, somehow I got on the bottom, somehow my husband, spent and soft a half hour ago was hard again, was more than hard, was driving himself toward a second orgasm, oblivious to having already driven me to one, with another beginning to bloom deep in me.

"He'd have come long before we did," he said, beginning to come again.

In the peaceful time that followed, that hugging time, that recovery time, I snuggled close to him. "Want me to do it again, make you hard again? Whattaya say, Slugger? Wanna try for a triple?"

"I'll bet you could do it, too, you vixen, but the people I'd need to be watching would be the paramedics. You'd be killing me."

What a nice way to start a Saturday morning.

Then came Sunday. The everyday chores were done, we didn't have to worry about the biggies like painting, that was going to get paid for, so we were sitting in the den, the TV providing background noise. Sam reopened last night's topic. "OK, how do we get watched?"

Talking about it there, not in the bedroom, made it a serious question. Now that I think about it, it was the second question, the first question,

"Should we?" he had assumed was already answered.

"If we do it, that's the big question, and if we do it depends on how you think we could get away doing it..sort of a cicular problem, I guess." That was the problem, we knew what we wanted to do, we didn't have any idea how to arrange it.

We'd need an inspiration, we were ready, just didn't know how to move ahead.

"What about posting some pictures on one of those sites on the Internet?" I suggested.

"It wouldn't be real time, but let's check it out." We logged onto Literotica, full of excitement and hope, and followed some links that promised pictures of sexy wives and couples.

There's no kind way to say this. Although some pictures were sexy, most were almost clinical.

"Look, that doesn't belong here, it should be on a web site for proctologists!"

"And this one, in a gynecology textbook."

No, we weren't going to post any pictures that let viewers make fun of us.

"Oh man, I have it," my usually creative husband said, "a way to know some guy is watching, a guy who already is ready to masturbate."

"What are you going to do, take out an ad, hire someone?"

"Hell no. Oh, this is going to be so cool. What we're gonna do is video tape us" --

--"NO WAY. Not a chance," I said. "I wouldn't be caught dead on a sex tape. I mean, what if someone we knew saw us. That's stupid!"

"No, no, listen a minute. What I want to do it to tape us so no one sees our faces, just a one or two minute segment, and then, oh this is so fucking brilliant, what we're going to do is to rent a sex movie tape from the video store, and in the middle of the movie we'll copy our clip. Every one who rents it, and everybody does rent them, will see our two bodies, and it'll drive them crazy! Especially if we put in a voice over that we live on Long Island, or Suffolk County, or even tell them we live in Northport."

It was worth a try. I mean, what else is there to do on a Sunday afternoon in Northport? Other than sail, walk on the beach, walk along our waterfront, go to New Community Cinema, stuff like that, stuff that people actually visit our area to do.

Well, we tried. But you know, somehow sex isn't as much fun when you have to choreograph everything to be in a particular 36 inch frame on the bed, careful that the camera can see only torso or the back of a head. We tried for a an hour and a half, so maybe it was more fun than I let on, but when we looked at the video -- well, it was awful. It would have to be edited into a choppy clip. It wasn't up to my, well, my artistic standards.

Sam agreed. "OK. We're stuck. How about a swinger's party in the city? Everyone watches everyone else."

I vetoed that. "Don't want a swinging environment, honey, I want this to be special for us."

There were a couple of minutes of silence, then Sam sat upright. "I got it. I have the answer, and I'm not telling you!"

Now, I can offer some meaningful bribes, but he refused to talk. "I'll show you instead, tomorrow afternoon after work. You're gonna love it."

It was a long day, Monday was, but I got home at the usual time, to find Sam waiting for me.

"Come on, we're going down to Robert Moses State Park, and have a picnic." Picnic basket, blanket, food, all was ready.

"I thought the plan was. . ." I started to say, only to have him interrupt: "It is, you'll see."

We drove down the Sunken Meadow Parkway, out to Fire Island, parked the car, and went along the beach until we came to a deserted area. Sam smiled. "This'll do, I remember reading about this. Come on!"

We left the beach, crossed the high tide line and found a quiet valley between two dunes. There wasn't a set of footprints in sight.

"Here's where we're going to have our picnic."

"I thought. . ."

"Hush, you'll see," he said. He spread the blanket, brought out the wine and cheese and bread. A little was eaten, a lot more was drunk.

"And now, time for dessert," my husband said, reaching for me, adjusting me so that I was on my back, on the blanket.

"What's going on, I mean I like this, but why here, and why now?"

He was pulling at my belt, got it open. "Come on, cooperate," he said. "I read about this, how people flying to the Hamptons in helicopters sometimes see people having sex here. We're going to do it, I'm going to be on top, you'll be looking up, and you'll know if someone is watching. You'll see them, watching you!"

"I don't know if I can do this," I told him, but by then he had my pants at my knees, and his mostly off. It was pretty clear HE could do it, Mr. Big Horn looked ready to knock down a wall.

I admit to being scared, but I finished getting undressed, too. One touch, and Sam knew I was a long way from being ready. "I can fix that," he said, moving his fingers away, bending over me, kissing my belly, urging me to move my legs apart.

I obeyed, feeling dry, and very unsexy. Feeling mostly scared.

His mouth covered me, he wasn't inhibited at all. It didn't take very long for his magic to do its work, I was getting ready, he was making me tingle, getting my mind and my body ready for the next act. It WAS sexy, being outside, in the

open, with a chance that someone might see us.

I opened my eyes to a noise, hearing the whap-whap-whap of a helicopter, saw one moving east a little inland, not quite over us.

I felt Sam's tongue probing in me, and saw the chopper nose up a little, saw it start a turn, banking towards us. Sam heard it too. "Wave to him, honey, wave to him!"

I felt myself growing very wet, it wasn't just what Sam was doing, it was the helicopter doing a complete turn around us, too. I couldn't resist

Sam's suggestion. I just realized I had both hands on his head, holding him to me. I waved at the pilot, and however many passengers he had with one hand, and held Sam in place with the other.

"Move, Sam, beside me. I want to do you, too."

By the time the chopper completed its second turn at what seemed to be only about as high as our house we were in a classic side by side 69. "You wave too, Sam."

I don't often come from oral sex, but I did right then.

And the chopper, after a third turn, straightened out, flashed his landing lights at us, and continued eastbound. Sam muttered something.

"Huh?"

"I was just wondering if he's handling two joysticks right now, one to control the chopper, and one to drive himself out of control."

"Maybe there's a woman with him, helping him, that'd be great, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, but most times those are commuter aircraft with a professional pilot. We probably put on a show for a couple of people."

"It made me cum, knowing we were watched," I told him.

"Not me, not yet, woman. Want to help a man in distress?"

It took Sam a couple of minutes to get close, using me, not that I didn't enjoy every stroke. When he was almost ready I said what I was thinking, something that was true, something that made him come in two more seconds.

What I said was, "I wish another helicopter would come by about now."

We got home a little after sunset, driving fast, in a rush to get to our bedroom.

Wouldn't you think we had enough sex for one day? You do? How old are you, 80? You'd have to be an old 80, you'd better check to see if you have a pulse.

"You liked doing that, huh?"

"More than I thought, yeah, I did," I said as we got ready to recreate the performance we had staged on Fire Island.

"It must have been exciting for the people in that chopper, watching us," he grunted. The grunt was because he was already on me, pushing into me.

"I think so too."

"It would appear, my dear, you're learning how to be more open sexually," reminding me he was so much more experienced sexually than me.

"Yeah, you're some teacher. Fire Island was an inspiration. What's your next trick?" I mean, I had been married to this guy for two years, we lived together for a year before that, and he came up with something new that really excited me. What ideas did he have for an encore?

"I'm not sure, although, you know, maybe I'd like to do that, to watch."

"Huh? You're a performer, honey, not a watcher."

"Yeah, I know, and performing with you is fun, but I think I'd like to watch."

"You mean like from a helicopter, watching someone? You can see people having sex on TV or by renting a video anytime."

"No, not that." He looked at me. "I think I'd like to watch you, like those guys did, watching us, today."

His cock got more full and harder, he knew he was introducing me to something very different in the scenario.