I don’t want to start by telling you the size of Alice’s breasts. All that will come later. Instead I want to tell you about the first time I saw her. I was standing in the hallway of building attached to the church. The large window at the opposite end let in a stream of late afternoon sun. Alice was walking towards me, the light behind her. Her blond hair reflected the sunshine into a halo that glowed more brightly with every step she took towards me. The highly polished floor splashed the light about her feet so that she appeared to glide on a river of gold. When finally I saw her face she was smiling at me and the sense that I had seen an angel was complete.
It was an early spring day that I first saw my angel and it took until mid-summer before our first kiss. Unlike her other suitors who were professionals and usually very wealthy, I was just making my way as a sales representative for a machine tools manufacturer. I think my strongest appeal to Alice was the reliability of my affections and my practicality.
The thought that my wife would fuck another man had become a strong fantasy of mine. I used her imagined infidelities and pictured her whorish sex with other men to provoke a jealousy that intensified my erotic pleasure. The pain of these jealous feelings acted like the whip the masochist needs to arouse himself.
Alice was a few years younger than me and looked younger still. Her long, shapely legs ended in a tight, rounded, small butt. Her spine formed a valley that neatly divided her strong back and her blond hair swept her smooth, tanned shoulders. She complained about her small breasts, but to me they were perfect; firm with small delicate, responsive nipples. Her tummy was aerobicized and yoga-ed into flatness. Her pubic hair was regularly bikini-waxed. She was tall and her arms were long. . She had a bright smile which ignited her blue eyes. Alice worked at the local bank and spent her Sunday mornings in church. I was envied by my friends and colleagues. She was 31.
Our sex life was as normal as it gets. The initial enthusiasms of our early married years had waned to a regular twice-weekly, gentle but satisfying love making. My masturbation fantasies though always included Alice with another, indistinctly imagined, man. Alice knew nothing about this of course. We were happy in our marital routine.
There was a side to Alice that her best friend, Samantha, described as “the hidden Alice.” There was always something she held back, some reserve. Samantha put it down to Alice losing her father when she was a child or it could have been a natural shyness. Whatever the cause, I didn’t much think about it anymore; instead taking and accepting what Alice showed me of herself. Paying attention to one’s wife is important as I was to discover. The story that follows is a terrible cliché. My famed practicality took the opportunity to turn fantasy into reality and although my imagination was a poor substitute for the reality that followed, the basic outline of my pornographic wishfulness was granted. It all began one early fall day with Tommy.
I was sitting at home on a Saturday afternoon with Tommy, a colleague from work. He was a tall guy with muscled forearms and a wide chest. His hair was always cut really short and he had a cocky way of walking, swaying slightly, almost inviting a challenge. His wife and kids were out of town for the weekend and so I had invited him to watch the Red Sox game with me. He had never met Alice before. She walked into the den from the garden where she had been digging and planting. She was wearing shorts and an old work shirt of mine, the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was in a ponytail that was threaded through the back of a baseball hat. Her face lit up with a hostess smile when she saw Tommy. She advanced towards him apologizing for dirty hands, welcoming him and introducing herself. I watched Tommy eye her ass as she left the room.
“Wow,” he said automatically and then apologized.
“No, no,” I assured him. “She is very beautiful. I am a very lucky man. I can’t help looking either.”
“You are right about that,” he replied laughing.
We fell into silence watching the game.
Tommy had clearly been thinking about my comment. “So you don’t mind guys checking out your wife?” He said with a nervous laugh.
“Not at all,” I replied. “I enjoy it actually.”
Our attention returned to the game only to be interrupted by Alice returning to the garden, skipping past the television and apologizing in her giggly way. This time Tommy looked her up and down without apology. This was not lost on Alice who blushed and hurried out.
“My wife’s a dog,” he said. “Tries her best of course, but she can’t compete with the likes of Alice. It must be like fucking a porno star. How about a swap,” he laughed.
“Sure. As long as I can watch,” I replied.
At work the next week Tommy asked whether I had been serious. I told him I was but that Alice is not that kind of woman. He told me that he had “whacked off” all weekend thinking about Alice. “Should have swiped a pair of her panties,” he said. His explicit sexual references to Alice excited me and Tommy could see it. “Maybe you should ask her,” he said.
Tommy was back the next Saturday sitting in the same spot. Unfortunately Alice was heading out to a Church function and had only time give him her hostess smile before leaving. We watched the game for a while but we were clearly thinking about Alice.
“Let’s check out her panty drawer,” he said.
My heart beat violently as we walked across the bedroom floor. I felt both a great excitement and a great sense of violating Alice’s privacy. I confessed to Tommy that I had never actually looked in her panty drawer before. He laughed telling me that this was the place of a woman’s secrets. Alice’s many pairs of panties were tossed into the drawer. Tommy rifled through them extracting a couple of black silky numbers and laying them on the bed. Next he pulled the heap of panties forward and looked at the back of the deep drawer. There he discovered two amazing things. Firstly, several pairs of panties I had never seen before. There were tiny thongs and see-thru lace panties. What was more interesting was the battered old paperback that Tommy extracted. It was a sixties-type porn novella with a busty blond on the front cover being restrained by two burly motorbike riders. The book opened to passages describing group sex and forced sex. A small piece of paper drifted to the floor. Tommy picked it up. “It says, ‘5.30 The Red Lobster Bar’.” Why would it be in that book and who had written it?
“So, said Tommy, “she likes to wear fuck panties and she masturbates while reading group sex scenes. Not quite the innocent little girl is she?”
“I guess not.”
“She also met someone at this bar, someone she associates strongly with sex.”
Tommy, the amateur sleuth, scooped up one of the black silky panties from the bed and stuffed it into his pocket. He returned the rest of the loot back to its original home.
“I was a biker once, in my youth. Tell her that.”
Later that night I lay with Alice in bed. “So what did you think of Tommy?” I asked.
