My wife, Michelle, and I have been married for six years and I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I'm 50, and Michelle's 37 and scalding hot. Physically, her cheekbones suggest Nicole Kidman, but her lips evoke Claudia Schiffer. Her emerald eyes are all her own and she wears her auburn red hair in a flirtatious bob. Thanks to many years in the gym with real weights, not the Ken & Barbie kind, her body has only gotten better and better. At 5'-5" her 127 pounds are as amazing to caress as they are to behold. Far stronger than she looks, her ratios are my idea of perfection. (I never did like the twigs.) Her magnificent 36 D's are perfectly balanced by her 37-inch hips and her tiny waist completes an incredible package of curves. Her taught belly contrasts with the healthy "pop" of her super tight ass, which, by the way, is delicious. Basically, she's Fergie from the neck down, but with even better boobs. Yes, she still turns heads, and she always turns mine!
Her personality is even better. She's not what anyone would call a tomboy, but she'd rather hang out with the guys and have a few beers while watching the game than go to the mall. She's not above a spa day, but I'm right there with her on that one. Music, movies, vacations, and sex...our tastes and desires just naturally line up. Our home is in habitable order, but she doesn't believe that it always has to look like the maid just left.
Sexually, Michelle is basically submissive and I'm a bit of a switch. When she senses me topping from the bottom, she'll take the lead and dom quite nicely. Like I said, I'm a very lucky guy.
Being a typical male, not even that was enough. Mind you, I would never cheat on Michelle. Why would I? Besides being a loving knockout, there was nothing she wouldn't at least try in the bedroom (don't knock anything until you've tried it twice is our motto), and most of our wilder experiments have stayed on the permanent menu. Still, there are certain times when an extra set of hands or another warm mouth could top things off quite nicely. I was interested in exploring that. After all, there is only so much that one girl can do at a time. In other words, I'm a typical male.
In her 20's, before I knew her, Michelle was, upon occasion, the girl dancing on the bar with another hot chick. One night she actually made out with a girl at her then husband's urging, only to find out on the way home that he couldn't handle it and had become jealous. Not being able to handle it was not a problem that I was likely to have, but his reaction had left some baggage that I'd have to clear out of the way if my little dream was ever going to come true.
For me, it wasn't about me having the chance to score some hot strange with my wife's blessing, participation, and help. No, what I really wanted to see was Michelle open up to the bi-side that she likes to tease me exists. Get a few beers in her and it's clear that she'd happily go down on Charlize Theron or Eva Mendes, but I didn't see that happening any time soon. Any talk down those lines quickly ended in reality. While I think that Michelle would have loved the chance to play with a girl, she clearly didn't feel the need to watch me sink hips deep into another woman's pussy. Still, with the right person, I felt that there might be some room for a third, if certain lines weren't crossed.
The thing was, neither one of us wanted to deal with the complications of involving a friend, and strangers and professionals were not on our "to do" list, so it remained the talk of fantasy. Besides, as it was, we each had a hard time keeping up with the other in bed, or on the counter, or wherever.
Whenever I think that Michelle might just be amusing herself by teasing me to the point of frustration about the idea of her playing with another girl, my mind flashes back to that night a few years ago in a VIP booth at a Toronto strip club. The girl's name was Bentley, and as I recall, I introduced Michelle as "Mercedes" and myself as "Enzo" (my name is Scott). Neither Enzo nor Scott was needed in that booth! What I remember between the girls was a lot of making out, heavy petting, mouths sucking tits, and ultimately a bouncer doing his job when he stuck his head through the curtain to tell my wife that she had to keep her panties on. He was a little late, and things had gone far enough that it seemed that the smart thing to do might be to go before we got into some real trouble. Still, it seemed to me that Michelle had truly enjoyed playing with another girl. Better yet, she clearly saw that it didn't freak me out.
That memory now seemed like a distant dream, and just when I resigned myself to the fact that the perfect storm would never actually materialize, someone neither quite friend nor stranger popped back into our lives.
Tracy is a friend of my family and I had known her for almost 25 years. She is seven years younger than me, and while always friendly, we were never particularly close. Tracy is an advanced, slightly Amazon version of the Anna Nicole prototype (version 2.0, slightly post-centerfold/pre-cow).
She has Michelle by two inches in height and probably fifteen pounds. Tracy's hips, waist, and chest are an inch or so bigger around than Michelle's and her enhanced DD's are impossible to ignore. Everything about her body says "Kuh Pow!" If you asked her to wear a nice navy blue skirt with a simple white blouse, the outfit that passes for professional on most women instead screams, "sex bomb!" on Tracy.
Tracy has a personality that matches her stunning looks: big and bold. She projects an aura that she's used to getting what she wants. And what she usually seems to want the most is cock, and a variety of it. She's always had a habit of moving from one guy to the next, but of not quite letting the first guy know that she was moving on to the other one. In her younger days that proclivity led to a few testosterone fueled altercations among the incoming and outgoing guys, and as she moved through her three marriages, it fueled legal bills instead. The girl wasn't out to hurt anyone; she just liked cock more than most girls and didn't care about the collateral damage left in her sexual wake. With her looks and personality, she saw no reason to deny herself at the sex buffet.
A couple of her divorces ended well financially. Combine that with her successful career, and you have a very brassy and independent woman. The kind that could hurt you if you fell hard for her, but the kind that could be the stuff of dreams if you knew the terms upon which you were playing.
Apparently Tracy's tendency to take a new lover before leaving her last also manifested itself by fucking guys who likewise had not "officially" moved on from their current girlfriends. In college that resulted in a lipstick message scrawled on her dorm room door that simply proclaimed "Cum Guzzling Slut". Most people would keep that little fact a secret, but Tracy somehow managed to share that nasty tidbit with me some years ago. Why would a girl tell you something like that unless she wanted to make sure that you knew?
I had also heard a third hand story about how her first husband had gotten pissed at her on their honeymoon when he walked into the bar to meet her and found her making out with another chick. Jeez, another guy that was clueless when fortune was trying to tap him on the shoulder! Dumb bastard. I had no doubt that Tracy was dynamite between the sheets.
Michelle had met Tracy on several occasions and while she liked her enough, she thought that, while hot, the girl was trouble. And Michelle was right...if you were looking for a soul mate. However, if you were looking a plaything to add little extra spice to things, she fit the bill perfectly. I considered Tracy's transient sexual nature to be a plus since I figured that Michelle wouldn't be threatened by someone who was clearly going to be moving along. It also didn't hurt that Tracy was six years older than Michelle. Clearly, it wasn't about me chasing some younger thing.
Like I said, it wasn't like I was out to sink my cock into Tracy's pussy. What I wanted to see was my sexy wife turn the tables on the juicy slut and take her on a mind trip the likes of which neither of them had ever considered. I just wanted a ticket to the show. (And maybe a supporting role in the sequel. Like I said, I'm a typical guy.)
So knowing all that, when Tracy relocated back to our area, I suggested to Michelle that we invite her over for dinner one Friday. Michelle raised an eyebrow and gave me a knowing look, half naughty and half reproachful, letting me know that she still considered Tracy to be a bit dangerous. I smiled almost innocently and told her not to worry, but quickly added that if it turned out that she felt the need to give Tracy the ride of her life, I would completely understand. Inside my own head, visions were quickly forming of us reducing Tracy to a pile of post-orgasmic mush. If anything like what I had in mind came to pass, we'd ruin the girl for anyone else and she would thank us for it.
"Of course, call her," Michelle said, clearly enjoying the fact that I'd get hard thinking about it while she knew full well that nothing would ever come from it. I love it when my wife underestimates me.
If I could sit back and be patient enough to let things unfold between the ladies, I had a feeling that things would turn out plenty hot between them and very OK for me too. For this to work all I needed to do was put the pieces in place and see if they started moving in the right direction. I knew that Michelle wasn't nuts about Tracy's type-A directness, so my job would be to make sure that it was Michelle who controlled the situation, whatever that turned out to be. Friday couldn't come soon enough.
When the doorbell rang, it was immediately clear that Tracy was as smoking hot as ever. The exquisite beach blonde was wearing a yellow floral sundress that alternately hid and exposed her sumptuous curves beautifully. Her heeled sandals had the exact effect that she wanted on her meaty but toned calves. Michelle had opted for some comfy green yoga pants that wrapped her sculpted ass like a present, and topped it of with a form fitting white exercise shirt that struggled to encase her ample breasts.
