[Note: this is the third in a series about this couple and their friends. I think there is enough explanation in this story to read it first, but it might make more sense in the context of the previous two "Straight-Laced Friends" stories.]
Dave was turning out to be a pretty good bass player; it was challenging to keep up with him on the guitar -- good practice for me. We were working up some material and had started watching for a drummer. Dave knew a guy but it turned out he had, let's say, oversold himself. So for now it was just the two of us in my garage every week or so, with a repertoire of twenty songs, more or less. That is, some were more ready and some were less. None of them were actually "ready" for public consumption yet but we were getting there.
After the one crazy episode where Roxy had taken things to the next level with him (https://literotica.com/s/straight-laced-friends-rehearsal "Straight-Laced Friends: Rehearsal"), she was careful not to come to the house when Dave was there. It wasn't that she didn't like him, she just did not want to have a regular relationship, and it is possible she was a little embarrassed by what had happened, a straight-laced lady like her getting carried away with a game of pretend-groupie. My wife Marlene would bring a bottle of wine out to the garage sometimes during rehearsal, and the three of us would have a glass or two and bullshit while Dave and I worked on songs and Marlene listened. Pretty much the same thing we'd been doing for a couple of years. We were not a professional band, just some neighborhood guys goofing around. Literally, a garage band.
Dave talked to me after the "groupie" adventure. "Did Roxy tell you what happened?"
I said, "No," which was kind of true. She hadn't described the incident in any detail, but of course we knew. "What happened?"
"Shit man, when you went into the house she came out here and gave me a fucking blow job."
"You're shittin' me," I said. "For real?"
"Yeah man. That was wild. Remember, she was joking about it."
"Oh yeah," I said, "I remember. She said she was going to give you a pretend blow job, while she was being a pretend groupie." I laughed. It *was* pretty fucking funny.
"Yeah, pretend, my ass. A pretend blow job is still a blow job," Dave said. Seeing me laughing, he had to join in. "That was something else, man."
"So was it good?" I asked him.
"Are you kidding?" he replied. "You were in the house talking to Marlene, I just about crawled to my car."
"And you're cool at home?"
"Yeah," Dave said. "Jennie never suspected anything. Well, I don't know about you guys, but we don't really do much any more, with the kids and everything."
I didn't say anything. He seemed lost in thought. He continued, "I suppose it would be good to spice it up somehow, but I just don't know what to do."
I did not want to talk too much about my own marriage, which was sexually wonderful, even after all these years. "There's a lot you could do," I said. "You could try something new."
"Some of that kinky shit is just too weird for me," Dave said. "I'm just a basic wham-bam kind of guy mostly, I guess. I mean, shit, Jenny has never given me a blow job. Eleven years we've been married, and together several years before that. That tells you something right there."
"Huh, yeah," I said. "It does sound like you could use some spicing up all right."
"Well it's not going to start with me marching into the bedroom and telling her I want her to suck my dick," he said. "You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, no," I said. "That wouldn't go over. I'd think maybe you would start by doing something for her. You could always go down on her, I'm sure she'd appreciate that. It might make her more likely to do something special for you."
"Get outta here," Dave said. "I don't do that kind of shit."
"You don't?"
"Do you?" He looked at me in amazement.
"Of course," I said. "Women love that. She'll be eating out of your hand."
Dave looked at me helplessly. "I don't know anything about that," he said.
We sat in the garage for another minute, uncomfortably contemplating the situation. Then we tuned up, played some music for a few hours, and the subject did not come up again.
Of course you can guess where Marlene's mind went when I told her about this conversation. She started grinning until she was laughing out loud. "What's so funny?" I asked her.
"Can't you see?" she said. "Obviously, somebody is going to have to give this poor boy some lessons."
My heart sank as I realized where this could go. Oh yeah, "somebody," I wonder who that would be.
It had seemed like fun when I taught two of Marlene's friends about giving head, that one crazy time. Everybody had a good time, everything had worked out fine, no problems. Those two women had been unsure of themselves and now they were confident, bold, adventurous. But it felt very different to think of the shoe on the other foot. I was not at all comfortable with the idea of my wife teaching some neighbor how to eat pussy. But what could I say?
"You sound like you have a plan," I said, hoping I was wrong.
"Well of course this is just like what happened with Roxy and Lorianne. You gave them some important training and helped them improve their sexual skills, and now it sounds like your music buddy here needs some sex-ed his own self."
"Yeah, I see," I said, trying to conceal my dejection.
"So maybe it would be fair for them to give your bass player a little training, too."
"How would they do that?" My mood was brightening.
"Just the same as you did, they take turns with him in the bedroom I guess, or somewhere, show him how to properly go down on a lady. It would definitely be a good time for them. Just like it was for you when you taught them how to suck cock."
"And what about you?"
"Hmm, good point," Marlene said. She smiled at me. "I guess it would only be fair if I gave him some pointers, too."
"And what will I be doing while this is going on?"
"Shit, Jacob, I don't know. You aren't really part of this one, are you. I'm sure things will work out. I wasn't really part of the blow-job thing but it was fine."
"Are you going to talk to him about this, or just spring it on him?" I asked her.
"I don't know," she said. "I will have to talk to the girls first, and then somehow we'll have to raise it with him."
"He doesn't know I told you anything," I said.
"Sure," she said. "Roxy might have mixed feelings about it, after her little 'pretend groupie' romp with him. Let me talk to her first. And honestly I don't know if Lorianne has ever had someone go down on her. It might as much as learning experience for her as for Dave."
Marlene's friends, it turned out, were not so excited about the idea of some stranger lapping their pussies for practice. But you gotta know Marlene, she sweet-talked them and they both said they would help teach Dave how to go down on a woman. We did not discuss Marlene's role in this educational event, and I kind of hoped she would stay out of it and let Roxy and Lorianne teach him. I mean, how often does a guy get to fool around with two women in one night? Dave would not need my wife to help out, too.
Of course nothing was said to Dave. He came over on a Tuesday night as usual and we played a couple of songs. At one point Marlene came out to the garage "looking for something." She was wearing a very short skirt, which is unusual for her. She has several, and I definitely love the way she looks in them, but she teds to be a little self-conscious in public. I guess our own garage with me and my friend playing music was not "in public," as she seemed perfectly comfortable and relaxed, cheerful even. I expected that her friends would show up dressed similarly, in order to facilitate pedagogy.
"Did you say Roxie and Lorianne were coming by tonight?" I asked her.
"Yeah -- Dave, you haven't met Lorianne, have you?"
Dave shook his head. "No. And I haven't seen Roxie in quite a while," he said.
"Well Lorianne is a ball of fire," Marlene said. "She seems shy but... woah. She's got a couple of surprises up her sleeve. They ought to show up pretty soon."
Dave looked at me with an expression of subtle helplessness. I'm sure he had enjoyed his romp with Roxie but for a married man life is much simpler without those kinds of things. Marlene went back into the house and we worked on a couple of Tom Petty songs. We had to change the key on one because the vocals were so high. Also I couldn't quite cover the B3 parts on the guitar, so it sounded a little thin. We hoped it would be better once we got a drummer.
About a half hour later Marlene came back out to the garage, this time with a wine bottle in one hand and three glasses in the other. She kind of stomped through the doorway and said, "Can you believe those bitches? They both called and backed out. You guys want a glass of wine?" It was a full bottle with the cork already removed, and she filled the three glasses. She raised hers in a kind of toast and said, "Here's to living." Sips all around. "Do you guys mind if I sit out here and listen for a while?" Of course we didn't mind.
Dave pulled a folding chair out from under my workbench and Marlene set it across from us. Let me say again that my wife is a knockout, when she wants to be. She usually does not call attention to herself, she's a jeans-and-ponytail kind of girl, but tonight she was wearing this very short skirt and a rock-n-roll t-shirt, with her usual sandals, and she was looking yummy. There was no way for a man's eyes to look anywhere except at her legs as she sat on that chair and folded one firm thigh over the other. I could just imagine what Dave was thinking. I knew that she knew what effect she was having, and half of her game was pretending she was unaware and innocent. When she crossed her legs the hem rode up to... just... about... there. But not quite. Dave and I were both holding our breath in hopes that that hem would travel another inch.
She held her glass at her side and looked at us with a half-smile. "Well guys, I hope you can cheer me up, I am actually kind of bummed that my friends blew me off. You gonna play something?"
"Sure, sure," Dave said. We discussed a song to work on, a Stones song that would have sounded much better with a drummer but it had a good solid riff and we managed to make it rock. We got into our playing, running through our imaginary set list, sipping wine and discussing changes we should make to each song, trying the changes, sometimes repeating the entire song. Normal rehearsal.
I glanced over at my wife and experienced an emotional jolt when I saw that she had casually uncrossed her legs and was giving Dave an unobstructed view up her skirt. Marlene was in a good mood now, swinging her glass to the beat, smiling at us while we played. Dave's eyes were, naturally, fixed on the view she was serving him. What was she up to? I would not presume to guess. She was definitely fucking with the bass player; I shuddered to think what she might have in mind.
In the meantime, the tacit consensus seemed to be that we would act like everything was normal. My cock was limbering up in my pants as I witnessed my beautiful wife's boldness. Dave played with unusual enthusiasm and Marlene looked bright and happy, listening and watching.
We stopped for a break and set down our instruments. "That strat is sounding pretty good," Dave said, and we talked about the new pickups while Marlene sat there grinning at us.
"This is great," she said. "It's like having my own concert."
"Yeah, you're pretty much the whole audience," I said.
"And you guys look so sexy up there," she said with a sly smile. "Just sitting here listening makes me wet." And with that she slipped her finger under her skirt and brought it to her nose. "Mmm," she said. "Yes, I am enjoying the band." She looked at us with an expression of innocence and laughed. "If I'd been wearing panties they'd be ruined by now."
Dave stood there like a statue; I was sure he was totally confused. He'd known Marlene for a long time and she had never even flirted with him. But tonight she was revealing a side of herself that he had never known. I also had never seen her behave like this, except with me when we were alone. And actually, no, she had never acted like this with me.
"Tell you what," she said, "It's kind of chilly out here in the garage. Let's go inside for a while, till you guys are ready to play again." And without a pause she swooped up the wine bottle and pushed the door to the kitchen open. We followed like obedient ducklings, not sure what in the world was going on. Marlene was applying the full power of her womanhood, leading us around by our noses, and we did not feel we had any choice but to follow.
