This Charming Man

I applied my lipstick. My husband looped his belt through his pants. We left the babysitter, a grad student named Cory, with our three-year-old daughter and drove to my work party. My job was in the arts department of a medium-sized university, and our dean always hosted an annual summer's-end party at his well-kept, historic home. We parked, but before we got out of the car, I held my husband's face in my hands and gave him a loving kiss. He looked especially handsome tonight.

Inside, I mingled and eventually found myself with a fizzy cocktail in hand chatting with a slim, new adjunct professor our department had hired. Jennifer was her name. She was in her late twenties and had just finished her graduate schooling. This job was the first in her career. She'd recently arrived in town and was excited and nervous about the upcoming semester. She talked a bit too much about herself, perhaps out of self-consciousness of being at a party where she didn't know anyone well.

As I patiently listened, an opinion of her formed in my mind. Although Jennifer was worldly and obviously well educated, she had a sheltered naiveté about her. I knew the type. She'd been stuck in the Ivory Tower too long. And although she was a lovely woman, even stunning I'd say, I could tell that she had trouble finding men who weren't intimidated by her academic smarts. I also surmised she went through a lesbian phase in her undergrad days. As I said, I know the type. The term is LUG—Lesbians Until Graduation. Maybe she even had a threesome with a man and a girlfriend. At her university, it was hip to be sexually open-minded. It gave her credibility among her peers.

But if I was reading Jennifer correctly, her heart wasn't in it during her lesbian phase. Men still mattered to her. She had probably let herself be fucked with a strap-on now and then, but a fake phallus would only make her desire for a real one more clear. She was a heterosexual. She wanted attention from men. She needed a man's scratchy face kissing hers. It should be a man's hard body gyrating on top of hers, not a woman's. In her pussy, a real man's cock, not a simulation, was meant to be screwing her. I guessed it had probably been a long while since she'd had a real one.

I knew my husband would love to fuck her.

He was drawn to the lovelorn, the desperately horny. He wanted to help them. To him, when he knew of a woman in need of a good fuck who didn't have a suitable partner, it sort of made him sad. He loved women and felt they deserved to be satisfied. He wanted to help them, just like he'd want to help a depressed male friend who needed to be taken out for a fun night on the town. When a woman couldn't get laid, in his mind it almost meant something was wrong with the world.

I planned to introduce them, let him make his move. Then I'd slip away.

Jennifer was still talking about something or other. I peered over her shoulder and saw my man across the room. He was mingling, sipping a rock-glass cocktail, and picking an hors d'oeuvres off a server's tray. I'd bring them together soon enough.

I interrupted her. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but are you seeing anyone?"

"No, not right now. I'm not into the long distance thing."

"Oh. So you had a boyfriend in back in Ohio?"

She blushed a little. "Well, actually, it's been a while. I'm hoping to meet someone new now that I'm here in a new home."

"I'll think about if there's anyone I can fix you up with," I offered, touching her shoulder with sisterly affection. "In the meantime, I'd like you to meet my husband." If she was that eager, she'd be in for a treat with Phil.

I brought her over to him. He disengaged from the conversation he'd been having and took her hand with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you," he said while giving me a little clandestine wink. I returned it with a sly, knowing look.

"Jennifer here is a new professor," I offered. "She was just telling me she's interested in getting to know the men of our town."

"Well, I...," she stammered and blushed again.

I laughed as I patted her on her back."Sorry, dear. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I meant to say she was telling me she a boyfriend before, but now she's on the market again."

Their ensuing conversation was just cocktail party chit chat, but Phil immediately started to charm her. He's a womanizer to be sure, but only in the sense that he loves women. He's not oily or aggressively seductive. He's just a naturally lovable guy and a happy person. Because of his ready smile and easy-going good looks, women like to stand close to him. Small physical intimacies are easy with him. He touched her shoulder to punctuate a thought. And for her part, she grabbed his forearm as she laughed at a joke.

Phil knew what he was doing. These small intimacies build a foundation for larger ones, which then slide into arousal and sexual compulsion.

I myself went to go mingle around, talking with colleagues and friends. I later found Phil and Jennifer outside on a quiet part of the house's wrap-around porch. They were leaning close to each other, almost whispering in good-natured conspiracy. His arm was on the railing that she leaned against. His fingers were stroking her bare back between the straps of her dress. This light touch was yet another part of his warming her up, and she was loving the attention. But he was subtle. I knew he wouldn't want to embarrass me by overtly hitting on someone in a social situation. And his subtlety kept Jennifer baited. He knew how to deftly walk the line.

"There you are," I said.

Jennifer looked up, with an expression of mild surprise and perhaps guilt. Her building sexual attraction to Phil distracted her so, she probably almost forgot I existed. But Phil was nonchalant. "Hi, love," he said. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yes, but I think I'm done for the night. I'm going to go home and relieve the babysitter. But if you want to stay, I don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. Jennifer, do you think you could give my husband a ride home?

Her body straightened. "Well, yeah. S-sure. I don't mind. You don't mind, Phil, do you?"

"Why would I mind taking a ride somewhere with a lovely woman like you?"

Jennifer flushed at his compliment, at her understanding the new possibilities of this situation. She'd have a chance to be alone with Phil. She seemed almost on the verge of thanking me.

"It was so nice spending time with you and getting to know you better," I said. I kissed her warmly on the cheek and took both her hands in mine. "I can tell you'll be a great addition to our department."

I then turned to Phil and gave him a kiss on the lips. I made it a sensuous kiss that lingered purposefully for my audience of one, whom I knew was watching intently. I even slipped a little tongue to him and he responded in kind. Sure, I was letting this woman fuck my husband, but she should keep her expectations in check. She should know I had his heart. As we withdrew, I said, "I love you." I leaned closer into his ear and whispered, "I'll be waiting for you."

"I love you too, babe," Phil said. He let his hand fall to my rear and patted it as I turned to walk off. I could feel his eyes on my ass.

For Phil's part, was his flirting with me such a good idea? I mean, he just kissed me erotically and caressed my butt in front of a woman he was is the midst of seducing. He told me he loved me in her presence. Did he risk making Jennifer jealous and insecure? Might she feel disconcerted and cool down their flirtation?

No, not at all. Phil's actions were putting his desirability and virility on display, and that would only draw her to him more. And he knew she wanted him no matter what, wife or no wife. In any case, it wasn't all about him and Jennifer. He was playing with me, too. His showing off in front of Jennifer was part of our own erotic dance.

I unlocked the car with the key's electronic button and slid in the drivers seat. I pulled away from the tree-lined street and made my way home through the night alive with insect sounds. I was already wet and pressed my thighs together. What was waiting for me at home was a pleasurable and pressure-free masturbation session fueled by fantasies about my husband and his new lover. Masturbating is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes, I have to admit, I enjoy it even more than fucking. I have an active sexual imagination, and when Phil is off philandering, it goes wild.

I know that he sleeps around, and he knows that I know that he sleeps around. But we don't talk about it openly. Once I tried to confront him when I had my suspicions about his shtupping a lonely, divorcée friend of ours. But I didn't have proof, and the fight that resulted didn't resolve anything. It only lowered upon us a scowling tension that lasted and lasted. Yes, his affairs were upsetting to me, but eventually I realized he wasn't going to change. I had a decision to make. And I decided that my love for him was too strong. My hunger for him too great. I couldn't live without him. Why waste energy resenting him? I decided to accept him as he was.

My decision marked the moment when the tension in our marriage dissipated. Now that I no longer felt threatened by his affairs, I realized how exciting it was for me to eroticize his encounters. God, it was strange—I now desired him even more. Trying to understand my feelings, I compared it to when I'm in a neighborhood of restaurants and deciding where to eat. Suppose there are two places to choose from: one is empty and lonely, but the other is popular and lively. Where am I going to want to eat? The popular restaurant. Well, that's my husband.

Women couldn't resist him, and his success with them made me realize what a prize I had. He could have so many beautiful girls, but he had chosen me to marry. He always came home to me. It was flattering. Unlike the others, I occupied an elevated place his heart. In other relationships where the husbands stray, the love is gone. But that was not the case with us. Our deep love was what made our marriage work so well. And his sleeping around refreshed the light in which I saw him. Like when we were first in love, I could appreciate once again how gorgeous he was.

So I began to help him out. I gave him opportunities and excuses to leave the house. I would even buy boxes of condoms and leave them in his nightstand. To smooth over any awkwardness about their presence, occasionally I would ask to have sex with a condom, particularly when we did anal. My favorite part of our game was to pick out women for him and facilitate his dalliances, like the one was about to begin with Jennifer. I think this was the third or fourth time I'd set him up. But we never openly talked about these matters. And the unspoken secret was an erotic charge in itself.

Cory, the babysitter, was watching TV and drinking a diet soda when I got home. We talked about how my daughter's bedtime routine went, until she realized Phil hadn't shown his face.

"Where's Mr. Sanders?" she asked with a creased brow.

"He decided to stay at the party a little longer. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. Just wondering why he wasn't here." Her eyes looked away and down, failing to hide her disappointment. The poor girl. She was pretty to be sure, but in a sad, pleading way. She dressed rather plainly, probably out of insecurity. Still, her 22-year old body—fleshy and voluptuous—I'm sure was heavenly for Phil to devour.

"Did you need him to drive you home? I can call you a cab."

"No, I'll just call my boyfriend. Thanks anyway."

After she'd gone, I poured myself a glass of Pinot Noir and smoked a touch of pot out of Phil's pipe. I lit a few candles, changed into some sexy panties and a matching silk camisole, and settled into our plush bed. I started to trace my fingers around my pussy, tickling my pubic hairs, as my mind wandered to what Phil was doing.

***

At this point, he was probably still at the party flirting with her. He'd go to the bar to order her another drink and hold his touch too long when he passed it. He still moved throughout the party, saying hello to the colleagues of mine he knew and random friends from the community. Jennifer followed him around. She had an excuse, because she didn't really know anyone in town. But truly she was hooked, and whenever Phil turned his attention to her, she ate it up.

Finally, Phil told her he'd like her to take him home soon, if it was all right with her.

"Whenever you want," Jennifer replied. "I'm ready now."

Once they got outside, he led her through the dark night with his hand on her lower back. As a gentleman, he had to. Branches obscured the streetlights, and he didn't want her to stumble. That gesture soon turned into them walking arm in arm. But Jennifer's body was stiff in nervous anticipation.

Phil broke their not quite chaste embrace to get into the passenger's seat while Jennifer stepped into the driver's. Her key jiggled lightly as she fit it into the slot by the steering wheel. She was about to turn the ignition when Phil put his hand on hers, stopping her.

She turned to look at him. Her fine features made a lovely outline in the darkness.

"You're very beautiful, you know," he said.

And that was all it took. The sexual tension was too thick for her to remain coy, her desire for my husband too strong. With another man, she might have responded with some modest demurral. Or even laughed at the inherent cheesiness of the line. But here, Phil's line pierced thorough her reserve like a pin pushing through water balloon.

She burst. She lunged for his mouth with a sudden ferocity that made Phil's eyes widen, but he quickly stepped up to the plate and matched her writhing tongue with his own. Their mouths furiously grappled together. They feasted on each other with oversized bites and grunts, their faces attacking and retreating while their hands roamed across each other's heads, necks, and shoulders. Phil made a move for a breast and cupped it in his palm. Needless to say, Jennifer welcomed his groping. Nothing else mattered but their sexual ferocity, so it took a little while before they realized how the gear shift between them was making making-out uncomfortable.

"I know a hidden place we can park not far from here," Phil panted. "Let's go."

Without a word, Jennifer disengaged from him and turned on the engine. She couldn't talk. Her body flowed with adrenaline, and her heart fluttered in her chest. It was actually a relief to have a moment to catch her breath. Phil kept his composure. He gave her directions in his supple, low voice. And his warm hand had traveled up her skirt and rested on her bare thigh, tantalizingly close to her pussy. Her legs opened as wide as driving would let her. Her clit ached for his touch, but he didn't go any further.

Phil instructed her to pull into the parking lot of a junior high school and then into a secluded section hidden by trees, a secret place where a willowy French teacher at the school had often brought him.

As soon as she parked, her lips found his, and they made out furiously. Because they had no private place to go, necking in a car made them feel like two teenagers. But this wasn't adolescent experimentation. It was adult. It was adult lust. It was about a young woman who against her better judgment was overwhelmed with passion for a married, charming man. She put her hand on his erect cock through his slacks and moaned as she caressed it, sizing it up. She couldn't wait until she could free this thing. Play with it. Lick it. Suck it. Fuck it.

It had been too long for her. And considering that her last boyfriend was a poor lover, someone selfish and uninspired and always too tired, it had been even longer since she'd been fucked properly. That boy's skinny, slouchy body didn't inspire her either. But now, wrestling with her was a sophisticated older gentlemen, a man with broad shoulders, in good shape, and with a luscious tool.

She massaged it ardently. "Please let me hold it," she pleaded. "Please take it out for me."

"My pleasure," he said. "I'll show it to you in the back, where we can get comfortable."

Jennifer maneuvered over the space between the two bucket seats, causing Phil to laugh. He was more patient. He stepped outside, hopped out of his shoes, socks and pants, and lay them in the passenger's seat along with his linen sportcoat. Now naked from the waist down, his half-erection jutted out beneath the flaps of his dress shirt. Phil took a moment to look at the sky, to marvel at the hazy stars on a humid summer night.

As soon as he sat down in the back, Jennifer kissed him on the lips, on the neck, and unbuttoned his shirt button by button as she made his way down his hairy chest and abdomen. His shirt spread open to his sides and then all that was left to kiss was his penis, proud and semi-erect and capped with a touch of precum. She dove for it, starting with it far in her mouth, slurping him slowly, coaxing out a beautifully long erection. Then her head started to bob up and down... up and down... going along the length with metronomic regularity. She was tireless. It was like she was a blowjob machine.

It goes without saying she was driving my husband crazy.

"That's right, girl, suck it," he hissed. "Slow down and suck the whole thing. Open the back of your mouth. Go down to the base. Yes, nice and slowly like that. You can do it. Show me your talents. Show me what you can do."

She obeyed him and opened her throat. Phil's dick isn't some obscene monster, but it's certainly on the larger side, large enough that it caused her to gag a little. But Jennifer hid her discomfort well and stuck with the blow job. She had it in her mind that she needed to prove to Phil that she was a wonderful lover. In all honesty, that wasn't far from the truth. Phil never had a hard time finding new women to seduce. He already had shortlist of regular lovers, not to mention a wife. If Jennifer didn't pass this audition, he might not want to see her again.

Once she had relaxed her throat enough to deep throat him, she held the dick in her oral cavity for a few seconds, savoring how wonderful and sexy it felt to have a complete mouthful of cock. She wanted to lodge this feeling in her brain. She then lifted her mouth off for a deep breath and plunged again onto his dick and held it in her mouth. She did many times, still almost machine-like. Then all at once, she switched to a ravenous sloppiness. She licked around the cockhead, tickling the underside of the crown, slobbered over it kissed down the shaft, kissed up the shaft, slurped the whole thing like a popsicle, cupped his balls and kissed them. She varied her technique and did everything she could think of to prove that she could take care of his dick for him, that she loved it passionately. She fingered his anus while she spread his leaking precum all over her face, as if she were applying some sort of orgasmic makeup. Finally, Phil could take no more.

"I have to fuck you," he groaned. "I have to fuck you. Are you wet?"

"God yes I'm wet. I don't think I've ever been this wet. It's soaking my panties. It's on my thighs."

She sat next to Phil with her legs spread, underwear now off and dress pulled up around her waist, and massaged her fragrant pussy. Its hot, musky scent filled the car. She stuck a finger inside and brought the juices out for Phil to savor. He sucked on her pretty, manicured fingers. She kept feeding him in this way as he slowly jacked himself, drawing out a touch of precum on every stroke. Lord, she tasted intoxicating. He slurped at her fingers greedily. He longed to bury his nose and tongue directly in that pussy, but oral would have to wait. Fucking her couldn't.

"Let's get out of the car," he said. "Are you on the pill?"