To the literary purists – As with all my stories, I act in the role of narrator. This is a short story specifically designed to fit on one page. As such, there is no character development and no witty dialogue. I am not writing the next great novel. If another contributor would like to add names and dialogue and use this as an outline, go ahead. To everyone else, I hope you enjoy.
I don't quite understand my wife's refusal to accept her sexuality. Maybe it was Catholic school. Maybe it was some sort of morality. Could have been that she took to heart the "forsaking all others" vow. Before we married, over 25 years ago, her mantra always used to be "life's too short". Part of my attraction to her was the variety she brought to our lovemaking. That was all a distant memory.
We were late twenties when we met, now we were mid 50's. I had been married and divorced; she had been in a long term relationship that had resulted in a pregnancy and an abortion. We had both had a number of partners before we became a couple. It's not like we hadn't had sex with other people.
I had asked her several times over the course of our marriage to consider swapping. I was always met with an icy "Never". She seemed to assume all I was after was some strange pussy. While that was true, I also was trying to rev up her sex drive a couple notches for when we were alone. I offered to add another man to our bedroom and was told it was never going to happen and she didn't want to talk about it. Everywhere I turned was a dead end. I resolved to quit asking for any sort of extra marital encounter.
While in the midst of sex, she occasionally would tell me a story to heighten the act. One time her tale was about us being invited to an orgy. In her version, before we arrived, we exposed her pussy to our limo driver, then she rode me reverse cowgirl until I came. He watched in his mirror before she asked him to pull off the road and he fucked her with his thick, uncut cock. Her renditions never were more than a quick scene in her mind until we both ultimately lay exhausted. This had always left me with the impression she had at least considered allowing another man to fuck her, but she denied ever having any desire to screw another man. Her stories always left me wondering if there was a chance for some type of encounter.
Our sex life became limited to either missionary position or her favorite, a tit fuck, usually initiated by her the day after I complained about our lack of intimacy. She claimed she still enjoyed sex, although having gone through menopause, she winced every time I attempted to enter her vagina. I'd like to tell you it's partially because I am exceptionally well endowed, but I am barely average in that department. She became a pillow princess and was always ready to allow me to massage her back or legs, but rarely reciprocated in any way.
One day changed the course of how she began to be able to be open up about sex. We were at a happy hour on a restaurant patio with a lake view and our young male waiter touched me every time he was at our table. I commented to my wife every time, as he hadn't touched her at all. He eventually got to a point that he actually stroked my back between my shoulder blades. After he left with our order, I teasingly asked if we should bring him home, expecting the stock response of never. Instead, she surprised me by asking if I would ever have sex with another man. I shocked her by carefully responding that I would under the right circumstances. Her mouth dropped open, as I have always professed to be homophobic.
Of course a conversation like this doesn't end there, and it continued on the short drive home. I patiently explained I had no desire to be one on one with another man, but in a certain situation, I could tolerate some male contact. Another stunned expression from my wife. I realized that having a conversation like this with a slightly drunk woman after happy hour was a really, really bad idea. I attempted to bring her around to the concept that if we, or at least I, were in a group situation, it really wouldn't matter who was sucking my cock. It fell on deaf ears as she totally rejected anything but sex inside our marriage. Fortunately, we arrived home and I had the opportunity to escape the captive environment the car created.
Much like our sex life, she came around the next day and wanted to finish our previous discussion. I felt a trap coming and wanted to plead the 5th, but realized by opening up the other day, I had waived that right. I explained again that it wouldn't matter to me who was sucking my dick. I went farther and reminded her I had ass fucked several of my former female companions and that maybe could be on the table. I left the jury out on taking another dick in my mouth or up my ass, but reminded her I would never ask her to do something I wouldn't do. The gravity of that particular statement hit her as I reminded her I had often asked for her ass, sucked her nipples, fingered her and licked her cunt and I wasn't the only one that had. All of a sudden, she didn't want to talk about it anymore.
Another week passed as she stewed over my revelations and mulled the message I was trying to get across to her. We finally reached Friday and our usual happy hour location discussion. We had a tendency to rotate through a number of locations, as we were situated near an area of good restaurants. To my surprise, she wanted to return to the previous week's spot on the patio by the lake, because in her words "They serve the best pizza." The alarms went off in my head, since as much as we like any one particular place, we NEVER double up on back to back weeks. She had apparently processed our conversations and either was "calling my bluff" or had recognized how logical my comments had been.
Since I work from home and it is on the way to the restaurant, she wanted to stop home to change into more casual clothes. A short while later, I heard the garage door and left my office to welcome her. She attacked me with kisses and groped my crotch. I started to think I was going to like this change of clothes as I raised her top over her head and off, exposing her generous breasts in a lacy black bra. She dropped to her knees, fished my cock out of my shorts and stroked and sucked as she gazed into my eyes. When she had me as hard as a rock, she tucked me back away with a pat, rose, saying "We don't have time for that now, we'll finish later", walked around the counter, proceeded to make herself a drink and retreated to our bedroom to change.
I was as stunned as a deer in the headlights. I could feel my cock pulsing in my shorts. Logic kicked in and told me that what just occurred was not the worst thing that could happen to me. The rest of me wanted to toss her on the bed and finish what she started. Logic crept back in and reminded me of her "life's too short" and to see what she had planned. I remained in our kitchen disoriented until she reappears in a low cut top, tight short skirt and sandals, ready to go.
I back the car out of the garage and make the brief drive to the restaurant. She continues to stroke me through my shorts on the trip, continuing her edging of me. I pull into a parking spot and as I turn the car off, she suddenly again attacks me with kisses while stroking my cock. Just as abruptly, she is up and out the door of the car as I ache for release. My wife waits impatiently outside as I assess the state I am in with a steel hard dick and wet spots seeping through my underwear and shorts. She casually strolls around to open my door and help me out. I begin an embarrassed walk towards the patio.
Usually she asks where I would like to sit. Not tonight. She makes a beeline to the table from last week, pulling me along. My wife is apparently hoping for the same young male waiter. I try to process whether she is attempting to get him to touch her, dressed as she is, or has an ulterior motive in mind. Whatever her imagination has cooked up does not appear to come to fruition, as a young lady approaches and asks if we would like a drink. My wife orders a cocktail and I opt for a beer. Just before she turns to place our order, she lets us know that Derek will be our server. She has been rewarded by her choice of tables.
Our waiter approaches, hands us menus, goes over the specials and lays his hand on my shoulder before he leaves. He returns with our drinks and asks if we are ready to order. My wife quickly responds that we need a couple minutes to relax first and takes a long sip of her drink. I roll my eyes at her as Derek again leans his hand on my shoulder and I notice him lingering as my wife bends forward to pretend to review the menu, exposing her cleavage while tilting her head to look up at us both. I feel a slight squeeze before he says he will give us a minute and tells us to let him know if we need anything else.
At this point, she sucks the last liquid out of her glass and excuses herself to the ladies room, requesting that I order her another drink. Two is about her limit, she can hold more, but gets aggressive sexually and is a fairly mean drunk after that. The one at home will make this her third and without having ordered food yet, this could get ugly in a hurry. Derek is busy with other tables and she is on her way back to the table before he returns. I order another round as he taps my arm before he walks away. Shortly after she is seated, he is back, resupplying us with more liquid courage. She makes a half turn and leans back as he delivers her drink and she gives him a magnificent view down her top.