One night after some drinking and a couple of dubies, my wife Angela and I began talking about sex, sex with other people. We had never really talked much about those we were with prior to our marriage, but I was always interested in whom she had been with, and as the male ego requires, how I measured up in the sack. The conversation led us back to the bed where we got naked and began kissing and our usual foreplay.
"You told me you met a guy on that trip you took to see your mother right before we were married, and had sex with him. Will you tell me about it?"
"I don't see why you would want to know," she began, "it was a long time ago."
"Yeah, I know, but it would give me a better hard-on if you would tell me about it."
"A better hard-on? You mean bigger?" she asked.
"No I mean better. And yes, maybe even bigger." After all our years together, almost 30 now, we had had good and regular sex, but I had begun to notice that my penis had lost some sensitivity over the years, and my orgasms had more to do with thinking about it than actually doing it. She too had had some decrease in her arousal response, as often happens as women reach her age of 50.
"It will be harder and last longer if you will give me some mental images to ponder while we have sex", I explained.
She acted angry, and said, "I don't want you thinking about other women while we hare having sex!"
"I don't! What I think about is how you did it with other guys."
"Would you want to tell me about your times with other women?" she said sarcastically.
"If you want me to, as long as it doesn't make you jealous" I said.
"Ok, " she said. "You first."
"Who do you want to hear about?" I asked, most curious who she would pick.
"Tell me about Vicki, " she said, as if she had been thinking about it for some time. Vicki was a married woman who played around on her husband with his knowledge, just a diversion for her I assume. She was built much like Angela, but she was older, even six years older than me. Angela actually knew her casually.
"Vicki" I replied. I began to tell her about having sex with Vicki.
"She had asked me over after the big company party at the pool, where she suggested that I come by and see her motorcycle," I began.
"She had a motorcycle?" Angela asked.
"Well, as it turns out, no. But she did have a ride for me to take," I giggled. "When I got to her place, she invited me in and offered me a drink, and sat across from me in an armchair. She was wearing some very short shorts, and a halter top. As I sipped my drink, she pulled one leg up onto the seat of the chair, resting her knee against the arm, spreading her legs apart. As she did this, she showed me her crotch, and one of her pussy-lips was poking out of the side of her shorts.
"That slut" Angela hooted.
"Well, it was clear to me what she had in mind, so I set my drink down and went around the coffee table between us and knelt in front of her chair. I started kissing her ankle with little lip kisses, and worked my way up to her knee, then down her inner thigh to where that pussy-lip was sticking out, and sucked it into my mouth. She had just shaved her pussy, apparently, because it was nice and smooth."
"That slut," Angela remarked again. I noticed that Angela had moved a hand down between her legs, and was cupping her pussy as I talked. I had seen her masturbate before, but I had always had to sneak a peak when she wasn't aware. That is another story.
