We were reasonably happy, financially secure. I worked at the public library; my husband was a teacher. We owned our home, albeit a rather small, very old two-story one, the kind that was built by poor folks a hundred years ago and later added onto by a later generation of owners. The backyard was beautiful, because Lewis had planted trees and shrubs. I made some flower gardens by the house. He dug a vegetable garden. We had a little dog we loved. And it was May, our favorite time of the year in Wisconsin.
Here I was, Linda Lasker, at age 52, settling comfortably into middle-age. My husband, Lewis, however, was not comfortable. He was beset by a mid-life crisis, particularly about our routine, weekly sex life. He wanted to rejuvenate it, mostly by making me sexier. He shopped with me for sexy clothes: miniskirts, minidresses (I still had shapely legs) and necklines that displayed cleavage between my 36Ds.
I did look good, as women friends assured me. Lewis became more easily aroused, sometimes varying us from our Saturday night sex in our marriage bed to taking me in the afternoon on the carpeted floor, on the couch, or bent over the kitchen table. This affirmation that I still looked attractive, even sexy was good for my morale. I had a public job, which was another incentive for me to look my best. Lewis seemed to like showing me off to other men, and I enjoyed their admiring glances.
Although Lewis faithfully accompanied me to church every Saturday afternoon, he was at heart a pagan, who worshipped sexy women and went to church between my legs. Marriage requires compromise, so we worshipped together, but each in his own way.
After a few years of this, Lewis wanted to add something new. While walking our dog in the neighborhood, we met a new neighbor walking his dog. Edgar, looking me over in my miniskirt and revealing neckline, smiled at what he saw. I saw a tall, portly man in a baseball cap, knit shirt, and tight jeans that left little space for his "package," which made me wonder how big it would grow, uncoiled. He was 54. One day, he invited us to sit on a bench in his yard. He sat opposite. My miniskirt clung to my body and when I sat, rode halfway up my naked thighs.
Edgar ogled me and said,
"You look good, Linda!"
"Thank you!"
"You have beautiful legs!"
"Thank you, but I think I'm showing too much!"
"Is there too much of a good thing? Lewis, old man, don't keep your beautiful wife hidden! She deserves to be seen!"
I mischievously lifted my little skirt and flashed him my panties.
"Hey, not in public! Some neighbor might see!"
Little did I know that Lewis had found a kindred spirit in his new friend: they both liked dogs, photography, computers and porn. Lewis used his digital camera to take sexy pictures of me as foreplay. When he coaxed me to let him email copies to my increasingly ardent admirer, I consented. This increased the excitement of our foreplay. After a photo session, I would eagerly check our email to read Edgar's comments on my photos and then my husband would take me to bed.
When we were driving for an errand in town, it was I who suggested that we stop at Edgar's house for a visit. Lewis would park in Edgar's driveway. He would ask me what panties I was wearing, and I would show him. He would ask what bra I was wearing, and I showed him that, too. He said I was giving him a hardon and he would have to fantasize about me and "jack off"! That thrilled me. In his email comment that night, he wrote,
"Don't show her this. I'd love to fuck your wife! If she let me get up her once, I'd make her cum on my cock. Then she'd let me fuck her whenever I want."
I did read his comments, and they made my pussy wet! Lewis's favorite fantasy was to say while he was fucking me,
"Imagine Edgar is doing this to you!"
I'd respond, "Yes, fuck me, Edgar! Fuck me with your big cock!"
When Edgar began visiting us, and Lewis urged me to wear sexy clothes for him, I realized that this was not just a fantasy! Lewis dressed me in my shortest miniskirt, which had green and white strips and was slit up the outside of each thigh. I wore a flower print blouse with a low, elastic neckline. Sitting in my recliner with the foot rest up, I showed my two lechers my bare thighs more than halfway up.
Edgar, was, however rather shy in person. Lewis had urged me to prime myself with a couple of stiff drinks to lose my inhibitions. After downing the second drink while Edgar sneaked looks up my skirt and down my blouse, I blurted out,
"I read your email that you'd love to fuck me. You bragged that if I let you once, I'd enjoy it so much that I'd let you do it to me as often as you want!"
"Umm, I asked your husband not to let you see that. I'm sorry."
"He wanted me to read it. It gave him a thrill, and it gave me a thrill, too! Afterward. Lewis took me to bed and fucked me like crazy! Fantasy and flirting are fun, but men usually want women to 'go all the way."
While the flirting went on from day to day, I continued to drink two strong drinks every afternoon or evening, whether Edgar were visiting or not. Lewis didn't want this to become a habit when there was no fun in it for him.
"Linda, you're gaining weight from those daily drinks. Your thighs and hips are widening."
"You want me loosened up only when Edgar is here! You think I'll lose my sex appeal for him by gaining weight."
"Well, yes. His wife was once pretty, but she let herself go. Now she's obese and would rather eat than fuck. She has lost her sex appeal for him."
"So what's your scheme, for him to use me as his sex partner? Would you like to watch him fuck me? Would seeing how much he enjoys fucking me make you excited to take your turn with me?"
"I'd like to see him fuck you, if you enjoyed it."
I unbuttoned my blouse, removed it and remove my bra.
"Are my tits too fat?"
"The bigger, the better!"
I reached under my skirt and peeled down my bikini panties.
"Is my pussy too fat for you and Edgar?"
Lewis responded by taking my second drink and pouring down the sink. I was furious! I kicked off my panties and put my blouse back on, without the bra. I grabbed my purse, which contained my car keys, and stormed out the door.
I sat behind the wheel for a minute to calm down and think. I'd show them! I'd get a second opinion on my sex appeal, and maybe a third opinion. It was a small city of about 20,000 people, so I knew my way around. Across from the college campus were some bars on the other side of the street. I parked on a side street and walked down Main St. There were three bars on the block, so I just chose the middle one.
Oh, shit! I forgot that these bars would be full mostly of college students. I wouldn't be giving myself half a chance, with all of those thin coeds showing most of their legs and some cleavage as well. As I paused at the threshold, a strong hand grabbed my wrist, and tall, dark guy pulled me across.
"Don't be shy, little lady! Are you looking for someone?"
"I-I've never been inside. I was just curious how it looked."
"Go ahead, look! You're a real 'looker,' so I hope you stay long enough to have a drink."
It was mid-May, and the students were celebrating the ending of the term, rather rowdily. I was drawn to the bar by three vacant seats. I took the middle one. The bartender was busy. Finally, I almost shouted,
"What does a lady have to do to get a drink in this dive?"
