After seven years of marriage I've only had three affairs and I think that's a pretty good record. I suppose that's kind of embarrassing to reveal when you know that my husband hasn't had the opportunity, even once, to fuck another woman. We agreed when we married to have an open marriage and that's worked out well enough for me, but my poor husband is a little socially awkward—it comes from being a geek, I suppose—and hadn't ever managed to bed another woman. Oh, he had others before me, but the whole dynamic of being married and in an open relationship made things more difficult for him. Woman, of course, can bed a man easier than a man can bed a woman, it's the nature of the sexual beast in all men. While handsome in my eyes, he did have an odd look about him, plus his focus in life on computers and comic books didn't exactly grease the wheels of social engineering.
So why did I marry this socially inept, slightly goofy looking geek? Simple: one, he's a lovable and sweet guy; two, being a computer geek landed him a job that earned him a big salary, not exactly a turnoff; three, like just about every geek I dated and fucked he loved to eat pussy and was adept at the task. Before we married, once night I was riding his cock , fucking until my pussy was sore, and I forced him to reveal—actually I asked him outright—what his fantasy for me was. He blurted out that he wanted to watch me fuck another man. This was a big enough revelation to make me stop bouncing on his cock.
"Are you serious?" I asked him though the look on his face told me the truth.
"Yes!" he cried out and flooded my pussy with his semen. And so we were on the road to an open marriage. Each time I would have an affair with another man John would get me in bed and coax every detail of my illicit coupling. It was very erotic, telling my husband every detail of my sex life, getting him horny and then fucking again. It might not be the lifestyle for everyone, but I enjoyed it very much.
Perhaps too much because I started feeling guilty. Not about the other men who fucked me, but about how my poor husband was suffering because my pussy was the only one he got to fuck. This guilt manifested itself in a strange way. I started keeping secrets from John. The first secret was easy. John was away on a business trip one weekend so I went out to a bar and picked up a man, took him home and had sex with him. Not exactly a crime given my history, but the hurtful part was that I didn't tell John about it. The man I had picked up wasn't a very good lay and nothing became of it.
After John returned we fell back into our normal routine, but it was unnerving. I was given freedom to fuck anyone I wanted, but I was keeping it a secret from the man who had given me the freedom. I started to worry that I would start keeping other things from him as well, and because he got as much of a sexual charge out of my affairs as I did, it was risking our whole relationship. I had to do something about this ridiculous situation. I decided to find a woman for my husband to fuck.
Now, I couldn't just find any woman for John to have. She had to be beautiful, discreet, intelligent and sexy. This was a tall order, so I decided to start my search next door.
Holly was a former divorcee with two children and a never-ending stream of men in and out of her home, and presumably bedroom, who happened to be our next door neighbor. This stream of men had ended two years ago when she married one of her many suitors. She was certainly beautiful and sexy, I had seen her in everything from evening dresses to tight shorts and t-shirts. She had long black hair that hung straight down her back and a pair of enormous tits, not artificially huge, but impressive if only for their size relative to her frame. I knew her to be discreet because she had never directly discussed any of her past boyfriends in her conversations with me, conversations that bordered on erotic.
The approach was always the most difficult part. Holly had a set routine so it was easy to just drop in on her plans. Every morning, come rain or shine, Holly would go out running. It wasn't a losing battle for her, but she was past the age where her body was naturally shapely and now needed constant attention to retain its past glory. I, of course being a busy housewife, had little time for exercise and was content to let my body enjoy the full curves of womanhood. Holly preferred to fight the battle against every new inch added to her frame. Seeing her leave her house one bright, sunny morning I chased after her in shorts and t-shirt, with a bit of effort I managed to catch up to her and engaged her in a bit of conversation about how I was trying to get back in shape. She didn't seem all that excited by my new found enthusiasm for exercise until I reveled it was because I wanted to please my husband more.
"He seems to pay plenty of attention to you," she said as she trotted down the road.
"He does," I puffed as I stumbled after her. "I just want more."
"Really?" she asked, mostly to herself which was good because I was too winded to answer. Taking pity on me, Holly cut short her run and invited me back to her house for something to drink. I managed to make it into her kitchen before collapsing. She gave me some sports drink I didn't recognize and took a seat next to me.
"Actually," I said, "John is getting restless with our sex life. That's partly why I'm out here." A partial lie was better than the bold-faced truth, I reasoned with myself.
"How's that?" she asked. "I know about your...history." She smiled.
I blushed. I didn't know I could still do that. "John doesn't mind my affairs. I ones I've told him about." I hid my smile behind a sip from the bottle. "But he wants to involve another woman," I said trying to ease my proposal into the conversation.
This seemed to pique Holly's interest even more. "And how's that?" she asked with a knowing smile.
"Well," I said, trying to avoid the subject and wanting nothing more than to broach it, "if there's only other men involved, things can get kind of dull. We were thinking of adding another woman to the mix."
"Now you have my full attention," Holly said, her eyes glowing and an eager smile playing across her lips. "Why are you telling this to me?"
We both knew the answer, but she wanted me to say it. "We," I started to say, then corrected myself. "That is, I wanted to ask you if you were willing to be the additional woman." My face was blazing hot with embarrassment, but between my legs I was wet with excitement.
Holly rested her hand on top of mine. "I'd love to," she said. I released my breath, not realizing I had been holding it. "We'd have to be discrete," she said. "Tom's pretty old fashioned in that respect and he doesn't want me playing around."
I found it odd that her new husband was so conservative in that fashion, especially considering Holly's tramp reputation and history, but no matter. "Discretion is a must," I agreed. "Besides, if it's a secret, it's more exciting."
"True," Holly agreed. "When would we do this?"
"Sooner the better?" I suggested, not having a plan. It had been almost too much for me to work up the nerve to ask her; I hadn't planned on her saying yes.
"How about right now?" she asked then leaned in and kissed me. Actually, it would be more accurate to say she pressed her lips against mine and forced her tongue into my mouth while I sat there, stock still, as a woman kissed me like a lover. What was going on?
Realizing I wasn't responding, Holly backed away, her face held a puzzled look. "What's the matter? Too quick?
She's a lesbian! I thought, then corrected myself. She's bi. And she thinks I want her. "Uh, no," I said stupidly. "I meant that I wanted you to fuck John, not me."
"Oh?" she said and blushed with embarrassment. How weird is this? I thought. We're embarrassed that a woman came on to me when I was trolling for a lover for my husband. "I thought you wanted me."
"No, no!" I said a little too forcefully. "You're beautiful, but I want my husband to have a lover so that we can both be equal in outside affairs."
Holly blinked at me like I was stupid and on sale for a dollar. "I don't think I could do that," she said. "It would be one thing to have an affair with another woman, but Tom would be pissed beyond sanity if he found out I was with another man."
It's okay for your wife to fuck another woman, but not a man? I asked myself silently. We made a bunch of stupid apologies over the confusion and I got up to leave. I needed to get out of her kitchen.
"If you ever want to, though," Holly said, stopping me at the front door. "You know where I live." She winked at me. I nodded and bolted outside.
I ran home and stripped off my clothes. I had been sweating from the run and the tension, but I didn't take a shower, I even left my panties on. When I slipped my hand down between my legs, I was pleased to discover I was still wet. Would making love to another woman really be so bad? I imagined Holly's lips on mine and I lay back on the bed. I imagined her kissing me, then my breasts, then having her head dive between my legs and have her tongue lick my clit until I orgasmed under my fingers. That was how John found me when he came home. My hand between my legs, panties on, sweaty from masturbation.
He pulled my fingers from out of my panties and put them in his mouth, tasting the sweet tartness that had seeped into them. I wasn't sure if it was his sucking on my fingers or just his presence that woke me up, but it was good to have him close.
"Don't stop there," I mumbled, barely able to open my eyes.
He took my fingers from his mouth. "Where do you want me to go?" he asked me.
"You already know," I sighed. And he did. Say what you will about geeks and make all the jokes in the world, they might not have the best bodies, they might not dress well or have refined social graces, but geeks are better than jocks for two incredible reasons. First, when they get out of college they get jobs that pay real money. Second, more than anybody else, geeks know how to eat pussy and they love doing it.
John slipped down the bed and planted a kiss right on the crotch of my damp cotton panties. I spread my legs to give him better access. He inhaled deeply and I followed his example. The scent of sex was heavy in the air and we hadn't started but anything yet. Was that strong smell just from my masturbation? My husband hooked his fingers into the waistband and started easing my panties off. I was faced with the dilemma of closing my legs so he could strip me and forcing his face away from my eager pussy or keeping them wide open and not letting his tongue touch my soppy cunt. Quick like a rabbit I closed my legs and helped him get me naked. The pain only lasted a moment and then his talented tongue was probing deep inside of me. I sighed with relief.
"That's good," I managed to mutter.
He said nothing and concentrated on teasing out my clit. It took little effort, I was already hot for more sex. He wrapped his arms around my thighs, holding me in place, and set to work on bringing about my orgasm. I helped him along by fantasizing it was Holly down between my legs and not my husband. Just the image of her face looked up from my trimmed pussy, locking eyes with me was enough to send me over the edge. I came and my liquids gushed all over John's face.
That was his signal. Not letting me come down from the first orgasmic high he somehow managed to push down his pants and free his erect cock. The next thing I knew he hand slipped it into my wet cunt and was pounding away, bringing we up onto the next crest of orgasm. He pushed me over the edge, keyed up by my reactions, and spurted deep inside of me, his semen soaking my cervix. I came again. Hard. A gasp of pain, then pleasure, escaped my lips.
"You must have been extra horny today," John said a few minutes later when we were both able to talk. "You only lube up that much when some bug has gotten into you knickers." He liked to tease me using faux-British slang. It was one of his geeky, enduring charms.
"Mm-hmm," I mumbled in agreement. Now that the passion was abated, at least for a few hours, I could think a little more clearly, and I didn't exactly enjoy where my thoughts were going.
"Tell," he said to me.
I'm weak. Through either unfortunate luck or feeble psychological makeup, I'm unable to resist his demands. I could, however, give only the essential information. "I was planning something special for you," I confessed. "I want it to be a surprise, thought." His weakness, I knew, was a love of surprises.
"Oh?"
