George:
I must be crazy. I stood outside of Arthur's front door, with my luggage, hesitating before ringing the bell.
Arthur and I, internet friends, corresponded by e-mail and had opened a line of communication hard to accommodate in the everyday give and take of friendship. We confessed to failings, both physical and moral, that we dare not reveal to our closest friends.
I had told him about my masturbatory habits and my erection problems. He had confessed to a certain yen to watch women pee. Both had a fascination for older women. We had infrequent or no meaningful sex with our wives. We had exchanged nude photographs of them. Recently, Arthur had emailed, "Wouldn't you like to fuck my wife?"
"That would be nice." I indicated more than a certain yen for her.
"Make me a cuckold," he had urged, "I'd love watching you do her."
"I'd consider a threesome. Would she be interested?"
"Not in a million years," he said. "But visit us for a weekend and we'll see what happens."
So there I stood. Outside of his door. Hearing the door chimes ring within. The door opened.
"Yes?" The nice lady looked at me quizzically.
"I'm looking for Arthur Emerson. He's expecting me."
"Arthur's gone to Connecticut for the weekend," the rather pretty, past middle-aged brunette said, dryly. "To visit a sick friend."
"Oh Dear! That puts me in a bind," I said. "I don't know the city or where I'd find a hotel this time of day and I'm afraid I let my taxi drive away."
The woman smiled. "Well come in and let's see if we can get you straightened around."
At the end of the dark hall I thought I saw something move in the shadows. Was it Arthur?
I dropped the thought, almost as it occurred. Mrs. Emerson extended a warm hand in greeting. "I'm Angela."
"George."
"Please come in and have a seat. I'll be with you in a moment."
When she returned, she wore a neat white blouse and a full skirt. She had touched up her hair and her make-up. Angela was a very attractive woman. She sat in a chair opposite to mine.
We talked about Arthur's work and my own work before retirement. I mentioned being married. She graciously suggested that perhaps one day I might bring my wife to visit her and Arthur. All of the activities of the nation's capital were in easy reach. Friends often used their house as a jumping-off point.
She suggested I stay for dinner. I of course accepted.
Arthur:
It WAS me that George saw. I was surprised. The plan had worked so far.
I had worried about how well the two of them would get along. Angela, 68, had started life as a country girl. George, was fourteen years older. However, he was very interested in fucking my wife after seeing a nude picture I had sent to him.
I was not sure how he would deal with Angela if they were alone. She had always resisted my hints about having sex with another man. I was not sure I should have put her in this awkward situation with George. It was not that I feared for her safety. I knew that he would not hurt her. I was concerned about her potential embarrassment. Perhaps, I was not sure that, after all, I wanted George to have the opportunity to fuck my wife. But indeed, beyond anything else, I wanted to watch it happen. Perhaps to join in.
I had decided not to tell my wife that I had invited George. I told her I was going on one of my frequent trips to Connecticut, where she knew I would be with Barbara, my eighty-year-old lover.
She had driven me to the Metro station and I bade her farewell. Later, when I knew she would be out, I took a taxi back to the house and hid, awaiting developments. When George arrived, I slipped up to the loft and into the area above the living space. George had caught a glimpse of me, as he came through the door. Angela had had her back to me or it might have been over before it began.
I had made the loft reasonably comfortable for a longish stay and drilled a hole in the ceilings above the living room and above our bedroom. I had inserted magnifying eye holes, which gave me views of the entire living room and bedroom. With the help of an unsuspecting computer buff, I had linked these lenses to the screen of my laptop computer. Thus, I did not need to move around to view my wife's activities. From here on, it was up to George!
Angela, a sweet lady, after giving George a meal, led him into the living room. He told her he should be looking for a hotel room. She suggested that he might like a shower first.
George:
When I had showered and returned to the living room, Angela served drinks. We sat around, very comfortably and Angela appeared taken with my almost shy manner. But I told stories and made her laugh. Angela revealed her passion for country music and asked if he cared to hear her favorite CD.
Soon, she was jigging to the music, on the couch, and appeared excited. She sat closer to me. I thought she might be becoming a bit tipsy. Her wiggling body moved tantalizingly close. I became impressed with the lady's shapely figure. I began, in fact, undressing her with my eyes, bringing to mind the nude picture that Arthur had emailed to me.
I mentioned that I should start looking for a hotel room or she was going to be stuck with me for the night.
"I believe you're an honorable man. If you're real nice, I might ask you spend the night," said Angela, much to my surprise.
"That would be too kind," I replied.
"In the spare room, of course," she said.
"Of course."
"I'm sure no friend of Arthur's would take advantage of an elderly lady who has been left to herself for the weekend." Angela seemed to be making just a bit too much of it.
"Mrs. Emerson, you're not elderly. You are a pretty still in full bloom, a grand lady in her prime."
Angela's face broke into a full smile. "You know, young man," she teased, "flattery just might gain you an upgrade for the night. The question is, could I trust you not to tell Arthur?"
"You can trust me with everything. Your reputation, your virginity," I waved my hands in the air. "Your . . .whatever. . .
"Especially my whatever," laughed my lovely hostess. "Would you care for another drink."
A slower song came on. Angela, impulsively, sat on my lap. She tilted her head back over my shoulder, to allow me an unobstructed view down her blouse. She revealed her full set of mature tits.
"Was it a little inebriated teasing?" I asked myself.
