I'll call myself James. It's not my name but it will serve the purpose for this account.
It wasn't until recently that I found out that a significant number of married men out there are anxious to share their wives with other men. Now, I'm not naïve; I've been around the block often enough to know that there are all kinds of people in the world. Even if you only consider straight males there is a terrific variety of personalities, needs, desires, etc. And I was aware, even before it happened to me, that some men shared their wives with friends, associates, and even strangers. But I had no idea that the practice was so widespread. Purposely seeking out another man to have intimate relations with your wife seems, well, a little on the odd side, and ---. Never mind.
The account I'm going to give you here is told from the point of view of "The Guy" who is invited to share the charms and services of a married woman while her husband watches. I'm thirty-one and tall --- about six-four, not bad to look at and very athletic. I even played a little pro ball in the NFL but that was back a ways. I don't want to sound too immodest but I guess all this makes me a prime candidate as a surrogate because I've been "The Guy" more than once with mixed results. I want to tell you specifically about the last time it happened because it was, for me and for her, a life-changing experience but I'm going to give you a quick version of the other two times first so you gain some perspective.
I've never advertised myself as a "third partner" in any of the adult publications. All of my experiences at this threesome game have come to me uninvited and unasked for. The first time was in Atlanta where I was on temporary assignment for tech training. On my last weekend, I'd visited a couple of strip clubs --- there are plenty of them in that city --- and become tired of viewing a smorgasbord that I couldn't have any of. They tell me that it's possible, that the dancers do go home with customers from time to time, but I evidently lacked either the money or the connections, probably both. Now, these are pretty nice establishments, upscale and fashionable and they do a land-office business, believe me. Not just to gangs of horny men either, several couples were in attendance at the clubs I visited.
I struck up a conversation with one of the couples or, rather, they struck one up with me. I had just enjoyed --- if that's the word to describe mounting frustration --- a lap dance by a particularly voluptuous dancer and had decided to call it a night when they sat down at the table next to mine and began talking to me. They were Hal and Marie Siegel from Chattanooga, Tennessee. We exchanged superficial information and comments on the show and individual dancers. At one point, Marie called the same dancer over and paid for a lap dance for Hal. Situated as we were, with only two or three feet of floor space between my feet and Hal's, it was a dance for me as well. As the dancer gyrated and undulated between Hal's knees, Marie watched with a smile. I noticed that she watched me as much as Hal but thought nothing of it at the time.
Anyway, at about eleven and I excused myself and started to get up. Hal and Marie exchanged meaningful looks with arched eyebrows and short nods. Then Hal grabbed my sleeve.
"Wait a minute, James!" I stopped and turned, a little annoyed. "We were thinking," he continued, "Since we're all just visiting here and all, and you're heading back to the West Coast on Wednesday, we thought maybe we could buy you a drink --- someplace quiet where we could talk a little. We'd really like to settle down before turning in and some company would be just the ticket."
It was a little earlier than I had planned to give up and it couldn't hurt to pass the time with them so . . . "Sure, I guess so. Where?"
"We're at the Double Tree out on the northern perimeter --- not far from here. They have a terrific lounge. What do you say to that?"
"OK, I know where it is. I'll meet you there." At least they went first class; the Double Tree was just a bit above my means or my expense account.
As I drove, I sized up the Siegel's. Hal was what you think of when you hear somebody say "salesman." A little brash and pushy but pleasant enough to pass the time with if he's not trying to sell you something. He was about six feet tall, with a noticeable spare tire around his middle and thinning hair but energetic and voluble. I could easily picture him on the golf course in plaid polyester. Marie seemed to be just the empty-headed little Southern beauty that he would prize and love to show off to his cohorts and anyone else in sight. She had a head full of blonde curls that tumbled to her shoulders and a short, slender body that tonight she balanced on strappy four-inch stiletto heels. I remembered seeing her inside the club and thinking that she looked better than half the dancers. She was a knockout for sure with big innocent blue eyes and a valentine face. I could easily have encircled her waist with my hands but the curvaceous, hourglass figure promised much, both above and below the shiny black belt with the silver cowboy buckle. Her skirt ended just above the knee and I had stolen a glance at the curve of her thigh while the dancer had Hal occupied. In fact, I thought she had caught me looking, might even have deliberately displayed that shapely limb for my benefit, but I couldn't be sure of any of that.
As I pulled in to the parking lot at the Double Tree, I amused myself with a fantasy that their invitation might be for something more than drinks. It was fun, but I scoffed at the thought as mere wishful thinking by a guy who had been separated from his girlfriend for almost thirty days.
It took about a half-hour for them to get around to it and when they did it was in Hal's best sales manner. He said that he and Marie had a very liberal view of marriage, that Marie was attracted to me and that he, Hal, loved to give her what made her happy --- and tonight that was me! Like I said, I had heard of the practice but never had been involved in it before so I tried to beg off. Just then Marie, who had listened with an innocent smile and bright blue eyes, placed her hand on mine, her stockinged foot on my leg and turned those heavenly blue eyes on me.
"It's all just for fun!" she said. Her grin widened and her eyes glowed a little brighter. "And I don't bite!"
That did it. The implication, however vague, that I was afraid was not to be endured. After making sure that Hal was just going to watch, not participate, I said, "OK, lead the way."
In their room, Hal pulled out an expensive bottle of Scotch and we shared a drink. I held back, not wanting to impair my responses among strangers but Hal took a big gulp and refilled his glass. Marie merely sipped a little and put hers down. Hal turned on the radio, found some romantic jazz and took a seat across the room near the desk. Marie floated into my arms and we pretended to dance. She snuggled close from the first and pressed her tits flat against my chest.
What the hell,
I thought,
might as well get into the spirit!
My hand soon found the curve of her full, round bottom and gripped a handful of her. She purred and snuggled closer.
The first warm kiss was long and wet. The second didn't seem to end, just slide into another and another. I was responding just fine and Marie pressed herself hard against the ridge that was building along the leg of my trousers. Now, I don't go around bragging about it but I'm "pretty well hung," as the saying goes. The last time I actually measured --- in high school along with three other guys after a beer bust at the lake that involved some magazines --- it was ten inches plus a fraction when erect. I doubt it had grown any longer since then but it had certainly increased in girth and Marie, her wandering hand encountering the blue jean ridge, was suitably impressed. She leaned her head back and gave me a surprised smile, her eyes grown larger, if that were possible, and glowing. I helped myself to a handful of tit.
"Help me with my zipper?" she asked as she turned her back.
From there it was just as advertised, all for fun! Marie and I got out of our clothes as fast as we could and settled on the king-sized bed. My hands were all over her petite but voluptuous body. I had been wrong: she wasn't better looking than half the dancers at the club. She was better looking than most and equal to any! Her legs were short, shapely and soft as clouds. Her tits were large, firm, cone-shaped delights with small strawberry-colored nipples, hard as little pebbles. I sucked one into my mouth and heard her gasp. Her hand pressed against the back of my head encouraging me to take as much as I wanted. I squeezed her tits, fondled and sucked them turn and turn about until she grasped my wrist and pulled my hand down between her legs.
