UNDER THE FALLS
"Hi, Rick," my wife said as she gently tapped a rather tall guy on his shoulder. The guy was looking over a large selection of prepared but healthy sandwiches in our favorite healthy food store. He turned at her touch and blinked, his blank stare changing to a wide grin in less than a second. "Sam!" It was almost a shout. He was obviously happy. It was a shout.
Samantha, my wife, practically fell into this guy's open arms and hugged. A familiar hug, I noticed. He was a few inches taller than me, which put him at six feet four inches. It also appeared he spent time at the gym, sort of big, to be honest, in a not unpleasant way, and was quite handsome if one likes that rugged, slightly greying he-man look. And he was a bit younger than me. Quite a bit.
My wife practically disappeared in the hug which lasted two beats past friendship. My jealous button was pushed. But so was my curiosity button, which was the stronger of the two.
"Sam." I hadn't heard her called that in years. She was "Sam" when I first met her, two-plus decades ago. She is now "Samantha", the editor of a popular weekly newspaper in a small touristy town in the mountains of Western North Carolina. While the e-edition was popular, several thousand print copies also disappeared every week. Samantha told me an older print reader said she needed something to hold on to.
Samantha is also a quite beautiful editor. Lustrous brown hair, rather long and straight, though humidity brings out curls which I think make her even more beautiful. She has a dancer's slim shape, except for her full, no, perfect breasts. While all her physical attributes make heads turn wherever she goes, her real beauty comes from her intense passion and fierce independence. But her natural sexiness is simply there, for all to enjoy.
I first met Samantha when she was 23. She didn't look old enough to be out of high school but was already an assistant editor. There was magic about her, a sensual energy I don't think she was aware of. Every guy at the newspaper tried to hit on her. Her narration of those episodes with other guys and other cocks all these years later still brings my penis to attention. As we lay together in bed she recalls, very quietly and at my insistence, the pleasure she got from different cocks inside her, from wrapping her slender legs around her lovers. Based on her wetness and ensuing passion her recollections add another erotic element to our love-making.
When we first got together her real passions were learning her craft and, to her misfortune, loving me. She had much better luck with her craft. I took off when she was 26. I was 34. We were to marry in less than a month when I got a job offer and I left her high and dry as I went in search of fame and fortune at a big university in the Northeast. I got a little fame and a little fortune. But I didn't count on the third element of my search. I got totally lost.
I reentered Samantha's life 20 years later. When I walked into her office at the newspaper, I thought I walked back in time. Samantha looked so young, so beautiful. Still so sexy, even more so.
When she turned away from her screen and saw me, she simply smiled. It was a sad smile. I was waiting for her to throw something. I was the asshole who walked out. I just wanted to see her again, to apologize, to beg forgiveness, then leave.
She didn't throw anything. She stood and walked over to me. She kissed me on the cheek. I felt the warmth of her body next to me. All I had abandoned rushed through me. And I stayed. We've been married two years now.
I have told her she is the perfect height, about six inches shorter than me and we fit quite well when we make love. Before I let her suck my cock, I love to slip her panties off and sit her on the side of our bed. She knows to spread her legs wide and allows my tongue entrance to her vagina. I slowly, gently lick and suck until her breathing changes and small gasps keep her from speaking. She tastes like wonderful sex with a dab of salt. I then stand and circle her aroused, hard nipples with the tip of my cock. She likes that.
It also seems she likes Rick. It was summer in the mountains and Samantha was wearing a very thin, light blue top. Before we left to go grocery shopping, she asked me if her next to nothing bra that barely covered her perfect breasts was showing through. I lied. Her bra, sensual in its simplicity, was quite apparent if you were looking. As we wandered each aisle of the grocery guys looked. This was the beautiful contradiction of my wife. She seemed to be saying, "Don't stare." But when guys and girls did stare, she admitted, that, while we lay naked on our deck inhaling a bit of herb, thaty she liked the attention.
When the slightly too long embrace with Rick ended, Samantha's nipples looked like they would push through her bra and thin top and keep going. My cock responded accordingly. Then Samantha and Rick spent a too long moment just looking at each other. I was obviously the third wheel. Or was I the fifth wheel? I'm a writer too, I'm supposed to know that stuff.
Almost as an afterthought Samantha introduced me to Rick, "Sorry. My husband, Alan." I wondered about the "sorry" part but we shook hands. No big squeezing challenge. Genuine smile. Damn. Handsome. Bigger than me. Younger. Damn.
The hug was followed by a smiling remembrance passing between Samantha and Rick, for my benefit I guessed, she explained their background. Samantha was his first editor. He was 21, she was 29. "She was so amazing," Rick told me. I knew that.
Rick said he now worked for a large Southern metro as a features editor, he was recently separated and had just left his son off at the famous music school in our town. "Classical guitar, would you believe it? He's fantastic. I'm getting our lunch before I turn him over to his instructor. For six weeks. I'm staying for a couple of days. Make sure he's comfortable." The recitation of his recent biography tumbled out. Was he embarrassed, excited? Hard for me to tell.
Then, out of the blue, Samantha asked, "Why don't you join us for dinner?" Out of the blue because Samantha is one who likes to plan and organize. Spontaneity doesn't come standard with my wife. Well, except when it does. Her impulsive, if somewhat rare, moves have always led to something very pleasurable.
***
I've learned her spontaneity is worth the wait. Like the time we were invited to party at a clothing optional stretch of beach in Florida last year. Friends of mine Samantha had never met. At first, Samantha was opposed to the idea but she went along with it on the condition she could wear her bikini. It didn't take long for her to lose those two small pieces of material. She told me later she felt her suit made her stand out and attract attention. I told her she could attract attention in a parka.
When Samantha removed her suit, she definitely got the attention of the other two guys we were with and their wives. She had trimmed her bush to barely cover the entrance to her vagina. Her breasts begged to be touched. Her nipples swelled, waiting to be licked. Her slender hips and beautiful bottom seemed ready for anything. Three cocks, including mine, rose to the occasion at the delightful sight. The other two women immediately brought their husbands' attention back to their own very attractive bodies by playfully grabbing their ascending poles.
Our visit to the beach was a hit. Samantha admitted she enjoyed being propositioned by an older guy ("did you see that thick penis?"} and his very young wife. Samantha thought he was kidding. I whispered to her he was quite serious. She politely declined but later admitted she thought about it and she got slightly wet. She blushed when he told Samantha that, other than his wife, she was the most beautiful creature on the beach. I was in total agreement.
She also admitted she enjoyed seeing different cocks and women minus pubic hair. She said she got used to the nudity. It was both freeing and erotic at the same time. And, as I pretended to nap under our large canopy tent, there was another guy, a young 18-year-old, who plopped down next to her on the sand. To chat, he claimed. His long, thin cock was defying gravity as he eyed Samantha's vulva and breasts. She later said the moisture forming at the tip of his penis made her very wet and she wanted to touch it. She wondered if I'd noticed. I had. There was little sleep in our room that night.
***
But dinner, in less than five hours? An infrequent situation. It intrigued me. Obviously, Samantha seemed to genuinely like this Rick.
After another overly long hug, Rick was off. I saw that the effect on Samantha's nipples was the same. So I asked about this "Rick". "I'll tell you when we get home. Could you grab another avocado?" Sam was gone, Samantha was back. Quiet, beautiful Samantha. I made the ten-mile drive home in record time.
Our house was a log and stone three-bedroom, three-bath with a big deck. The front of the house was about 15 feet off the ground. The back was sat a rock ledge chiseled into the mountainside. The deck, master bedroom and great room had extraordinary sunset mountain views. As an added luxury our five acres were surrounded by national forest.
We both enjoyed the privacy. Samantha liked to walk around the house in next to nothing, or nothing at all since our beach adventure. This did, of course, affect my writing output. I noticed it also affected my subject matter.
But privacy was now even more essential due to a new addition, our six-person hot tub. Literally days old, it was an extravagance brought on by a book contract for me and Samantha's elevation to both editor and publisher, which came with a good kick in her salary. We determined the hot tub would be, depending on our guests, clothing optional. When I announced, according to the plumber, it was ready to try, Samantha immediately stripped off all clothing and descended the stairs into the waiting bubbling water.
The young plumber came out on the deck to make a final adjustment and did a jaw-dropping double take as a completely naked Samantha turned to him. She paused slightly before she submerged herself. The plumber did a hurried about face saying something about sending me the bill. When I joined Samantha, she met my laughter with her own and, none too gently, squeezed my quickly swelling prick.
The house was built in the 1950s as a vacation home for people from the coast to escape the heat and humidity. Big fireplace, old kitchen, even a mud room, which is where we always came in. It was all massive logs and moss-covered native stone.
As Samantha emptied the canvas bags filled with goodies from the market where we met Rick, I made my way to the front deck and waited. I was trying to picture Samantha at 29. Not hard. After more than 20 years, she still looked 29.
***
My thoughts drifted. Upon my return Samantha slowly let me back into her life. That's when I learned about patience and her spontaneity. At first it was just morning coffee at a shop near the newspaper. A few weeks later it was an early dinner. Very casual. Small talk. A friendly kiss before she went back to the paper to get the next edition out.
