You are married. You are beautiful. You are monogamous. You love sexual excitement.
Yes, that describes you. You look in the mirror before your shower and you agree. You are all those things. You are a lusty woman. You love to fuck, you confess it privately.
Sex in your marriage is perfect.
Your gorgeous husband adores you. He gives you everything you need in sex, and some things you could never have guessed you needed.
He is also, somehow, adventurous.
Now, he has invited you to go to a club close-by where, he says, couples meet, mingle, perhaps even merge intimately for an evening. You are intrigued, but you cannot imagine going along with such a dangerous and unwarranted scheme. Why would he want to do that? Why would you? You are shy. You are satisfied at home. Why test the limits of a perfect marriage?
Besides, what if anyone you met there knew you?
Oh my God, that would be embarrassing!
But your husband is persistent.
Listening, watching, you get a strong feeling that his dream is more about your experience of pleasure and him seeing that, than in the possibility of his own non-monogamous pleasure. You like that. It does not feel threatening. He has told you it would be a harmless reward for your beauty, your fidelity, your deep soul, and for him, an exciting new sexual experience, shared with the woman he loves.
You reluctantly allow him to set a date, two weeks from Friday. You have agreed to go and drink and talk and laugh, just like any party. Hands completely off. No promise of any hanky-panky. You are nervous, he is nervous. You are both nervously excited. You admit that to yourself. You wonder why you have agreed to this, yet now you have. You discover that rash act alone warms your libido. Interesting, you think.
The days go by. You think more about what you've agreed to. You often catch yourself considering the possibilities of such an evening, the one to come that is now in your calendar. What will happen? What will you do? What will he do? Do the people who go to these parties...
are they good looking? Are they smart? Are they safe? Are they like me?
As you fuck your husband, you and he talk sporadically, quietly, about your date, what each of you might do, might want to do, might not want to do, might... well, who knows? Fantasy talk during sex. Scary, but sexy and exciting at the same time. You say all this to your man because you know he wants you to. He seems pleased that you did.
You talk and move your way through to orgasm. You are good at this. You love the feel of his cock, the feel of your own fingers moving on your clitoris, his sucking mouth on your nipples. Your excitement is high. Your cunt is spilling down your butt cheeks into the sheets below. Moving faster, you come together. You moan aloud. You manage to squint into your man's eyes as your body's orgasm spasm takes over. You almost cry. You laugh instead.
You love this man. You love to fuck him. You don't need extra adventure, do you?
Now, you are dressing for your date. Your husband wants you to wear a short dress, a front button shirt, no bra. He is cheeky! However, it is summer, so that is what you wear. He looks sexy and attractive in his tight blue jeans and white shirt.
Touching up your hair in the mirror, you are thinking about the evening ahead. You feel a stirring in your cunt.
Already.
Interesting.
You both march bravely, if a little too quickly, to the car, not saying much of anything, nervous.
You think, What are we doing? Are we really going to do this? You answer,
yes we are.
The drive is short. It is dark, and late.
Parking, your mouth feels dry, you insert gum.
You are sparkling and tanned, your heart is racing. You try to find calm. Your husband appearsΒ¬β calm. You walk in, him first.
A stunningly dressed, youthful looking, well built man greets you, makes chit chat and walks both of you into the bar, makes sure you are settled with drinks in hand, and leaves.
It is noisy, busy, dark, swords of cool and warm light here and there, large booth style tables to one side and the rear, people dancing slowly over there somewhere. It smells human. Aromatic, like a good party with glowing company.
You are looking around. Your man is doing the same. You stick by his side. He wants you to. This is different and heady.
Now you see who attends these parties. All types. Friendly looking. You have arrived late. You relax. Some eyes are on you, both sexes, and you like it. Are they talking about me? You have a couple quick drinks and the talk starts to flow easily. You are good at that. You love to talk.
There are other people at the bar. Of course there are! What were you thinking, that you'd be alone in your quest for purely luxurious lust?
Some couples move in closer. The man who greeted you at the door is briefly there. You are having fun. You are comfortable. You know how attractive you are.
A tall, thin man is at your side. His wife, short, perfect body, intelligent sounding, is there with him. You like him, and you are talking. He is funny, and good looking, smart, a little younger. As you talk, you begin to wonder if this is where your evening is heading. His wife is relaxed and beautiful. You think, she would not be with him here if it wasn't safe, if she didn't feel safe. She's a lot like me. She moves away, onto other conversations, other people.
Your eyes wander to the dance floor. For the first time, you focus hard. Yes, there are signs of lusty kissing and groping. Your heart leaps. So, it is true after all.
You turn back to the tall, thin, funny, smart man.
As you talk, you and he exchange a few soft arm touches. You weaken at that. Almost a caress! Inside, you feel a thrill that you were not expecting.
And there is that familiar thrum in your cunt again.
Appraising, you silently wonder what this man would look like beneath his clothes, especially his cock. How big would it be? How wide? How tall when erect? The beautiful smell of a cock. Is he hairy? Is he circumcised? These are the thoughts you are having, and you are having them quickly, between talk lines. His eyes never leave you. Your eyes are giving you away.
You look at your husband. He is happily engrossed in talk with this man's - your quickie man's? - wife. Yet, you know that your husband knows what you are thinking. You are radiant. You are hot. Increasingly, you are wet. He smiles with a lovely reassurance at you, as the strange man invites you to dance.
Yes
, you say,I would love to dance.
He leads you by the hand, into the semi-dark, into the close warm evening inside, into an exciting new world.