The Loaner Husband

The Loaner Husband

By ShamBaLa

Categories: Cuck, erotic couplings

Tags: mature, unexpected, seduction, permission, sharing

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This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to actual locations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All characters are 18 or older.

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I've sat on this story for among time. Trying to figure how best to approach the telling of, for me at least, an unusual turn in our sex life. My wife and I have been married for nearly 40 years and are now in our mid to late 70s. We still have what is, according to research, an above average sex life. But the story starts perhaps fifteen years ago.

When we retired, we moved to an active retirement development. Lots of people from all over the country. Three golf courses, indoor and outdoor pools, walking trails, sixteen tennis courts, pickle ball, a couple of restaurants and several dozen clubs and card groups to choose from.

When this all started I was in my late 50s. I am by no means athletic or ripped. I stayed trim doing yard work, hiking and several physical volunteer activities. It took a few years, but I finally gained the self confidence and ego to compliment myself that I still looked pretty good. Especially in the retirement community where so many of my peers had "let themselves go." Both of us are people watchers. We would go to the pool on occasion and check out the people, making up stories about individuals or couples. The stories were generally lascivious and quickly became graphic descriptions of their past sex life, or lack of it.

For example there were plenty of women, both married and single, widowed etc, who had kept themselves well. Some of it was no doubt genetics, but much of it was simply caring about what they looked like. The impression they wanted to make. But many of these well kept women were with overweight, lumbering, pudgy necked, lard assed men.

Again, I suppose some of this is genetic. But mostly it is from over eating, drinking, no exercise and a loss of desire to look pleasing for the wife. I call this complacency "taking the wife for granted." At some point their wives were attractive or even hot. And at some point the men dressed better, working on their weight and tried to look good for their spouse. But, as years wear on, sex lives got routine or stale. The effort to still look desirable to the spouse fades.

And many women also reach the same plateau. They gain weight, don't exercise and their intake of carbs rises in each year of retirement.

Now I have a sex drive that started very young and has never faded. Even in my seventh decade the urge, the desire, is still there. Sometimes the body doesn't want to cooperate, but the libido is still intact. I still check out younger women, but as I've aged, I've gained an appreciation for older, mature women who have taken care of themselves and know how to dress in a way that gets attention.

I hike, go to the pool and play tennis a lot. Many of the women hikers - typically leaving the husband at home - look damn good in sleek hiking pants and man tailored hiking shirts. I really appreciate the 60 something women who know how to wear just the right tennis outfit to show off their best curves. Many of them still have the same engaging personalities they had when they were 27.

Among other retirement activities, my wife is in three book clubs and three card groups. She is an avid card player and it is something I just never got into. In all of these clubs are widows and/or married women with husband who frustrate them.

In the evenings, like most couples, we catch up on what we did or the gossip we heard. In her case, she would repeat some of the personal stories and frustrations of her card friends. One group in particular was fond of sharing stories about their sex lives. Mostly their past sexual adventures. Once the ice was broken some years ago, they became more open to sharing graphic, intimate details of their younger and sometimes midlife escapades. Stories they would

never

tell their husbands.

Although, I personally think they are missing out on a key element to waking up a sleeping sex life: telling their husbands about former lovers. They swore each other to secrecy, so naturally my wife would come home and tell me all the sordid details. I would get a hard on, she would get wet and afternoon delight ensued.

One afternoon she was lamenting the sexual frustrations of a couple of women. She felt really bad for one lady who had lost her husband two years before. Week after week the woman described her sexual frustration. She discovered on-line sex shops and had invested in an array of toys. She began watching highly stylized, romantic porn and longed for human contact. The vibrator was great and she got off. Even found new techniques to stimulate her G spot. She really didn't want to "date" or have a regular "gentleman caller." She was frustrated that her horniness was unquenched. Some nights she said she wanted a man to romance her, make love with her and leave before breakfast. Other nights, she confessed, she just wanted to get fucked.

That night we had hotter than usual sex. It started slow and teasing and degenerated into a full blown, animalistic tanglement in the sheets, fucking so long and hard she finally had to stop us.

But in the afterglow she started to complement me on how good I was at cunnilingus. How attentive I was and how I lingered. She always liked my technique for going down on her.

"I'm a very fortunate woman," she said quietly. "So many women our age don't have the excitement and satisfaction like you give me. I must have cum three times just now."

Then she regaled me with how much she had told her card friends about our sex life. Both in the early years of marriage and now. Their reaction was, she said, a mix of skeptical and envious.

"It got me thinking," she continued. "One of my friend said she would 'give anything' for a night with an attentive lover. So what about you?"

"Oh, I think I have several nights a week with an attentive lover." I replied. "Your blow jobs, how you edge me, the things you do with your tongue. Amazing."

"That's nice to hear, but what I meant, how about you as a one night lover for her?"

We all know about pity fuck or sympathy sex. My wife has several stores of sympathy fuck sessions both before and after we married. But this was a little too close to home. In our early years we gave swing or sharing a try several times. Going full on hot wife only came up as fantasy talk. Sometimes the vivid fantasy descriptions, after we both had a few drinks, got us shagging like newlyweds.

"No. Hard no."

"Oh. A HARD no? Exactly how Hard sweetheart?" she slid her hand up my inner thigh.

"You seriously just suggested that I cheat on you with one of your card friends? Do you hear yourself?"

"Well," she cuddled up close and put her hand on my chest, "it's not cheating if it's my idea. Besides, I'm going to get something out of this too."

"Really? What are you charging for my, ahem, services?"

"Oh, I expect that if I had an outside dalliance, you would want to hear all the details from beginning to end."

She had me there. My wife had an adventurous side. Her stories of men in college and exploits between husbands were just so hot to listen to. It took some months to get her to open up and tell me the first story. But she saw how much her description turned me on, and it raised her temperature too. Some nights I could close my eyes listening and visualizing our neighbor with a generous cock slowly sliding deep into her shaved clef. When I lay back listening she would stroke my dick. As the climax of the story was reached, I did too! Other times I would be tender and making love, but she wanted to be FUCKED. She would roll over, raise her sweet ass and tell me about the motorcycle guy who would take her on a high speed ride through city streets, then shag her till she nearly passed.

Sometimes I think the stories were made up on the spot for our mutual benefit. After a while I couldn't tell or care.

"So you would want to hear the details?" I asked.

"Hear it from you and hear it from her. Then compare the stories, come home from cards and spread my legs for you."

The conversation was giving me a hard on. Like I said, we did some wife swapping in our early years. But it was irregular and stopped when career and kids took away our energy and opportunity. So the notion of sleeping with another woman with her knowledge wasn't new. But it was a distant memory.

"Lets' say I agree to this. How would it work?"

She leaped over to me threw her arms around my shoulders, "Oh, that's great. I love you for this. You are going to make her very happy. VERY happy."

My head was spinning. I'm not entirely sure I agreed in that moment but the die was cast.

She proposed that her friend might have me over for dessert or after dinner drinks and see where it went from there. Her friend didn't want to go on a "date" or out to dinner or see a show. She wanted the main event. Perhaps romanced, seduced, swap sex stories, like that.

The card group rotation came to our house the following Thursday. I tried to stay out of the house doing yard work. Eventually I had to pass by the women playing cards.

"Hey, sweetheart, come in and say 'hi'." My wife called as I tried to be unobtrusive. I was dirty and my tee shirt was sweat stained.

I had to be polite. I stuck my head around the corner, timidly waved and said hello to the ladies. I've seen these women many times over the last several years. This time the several pairs of eyes on me felt different. I tried to avoid my intended seductress but it didn't work. We made eye contact for just a moment. I felt my face flush. Geez, did all the women at the table know? I glanced at my wife. Her smile in particular felt very conspiratorial.

"Hello ladies, whose winning?" There was a bit of banter that only prolonged my agony. "Well, I need a shower, have fun."

As I headed down the hall the giggling and low voices only added to my paranoia. Great. Now they are talking about me.

***************

The appointed day and evening arrived. The wife had kept me away from sex for three days, which nearly killed me. Our reignited sex life involved great fucking at least every other night. Sometimes three or four nights in a row. See, I told you we were defying the research stats.

I needed some liquid encouragement for this project, so I had a Jack Daniels and a little water in the bed room while I showered and dressed. I topped it off when I was dressed and presented myself for inspection. Tailored light blue long sleeve dress shirt - sleeves rolled up. My wife says women find that very sexy. Athletic cut jeans. Slip on shoes.

"God, you look good enough to eat," she gushed. She gave me a warm loving hug and whispered in my ear, "You are doing a good thing. Don't think about anything but pleasing the person you're with. I love you madly."

"You can stop this now if you want," I told her hopefully as I gulped the last of the Jack..

"Absolutely not! I'm helping a friend and I want to hear all the lascivious details when you get home while I straddle your used dick and fuck my brains out. Now go," She turned me around and pushed me to the door. "Don't forget the wine!"

**********

My wife's friend answered the door wearing a very nice, floor length light green night gown. There was a ribbon tie at the high neck line and the fabric appeared to be in several layers. It flowed over her, almost shimmering. Beyond her the house was dimly lit with lights low.

"Come on in stranger," she said with a low sweet voice.

I held out the bottle of wine. I felt like middle school and my parents had just left me off at a girls house. Awkward doesn't begin to describe things.

She took the bottle in one hand and my hand in the other leading me into the living room. There were about six good size candles around and one low light in the corner. Smooth jazz was very low in the background.

On the coffee table was a bottle of very nice 15 year old Scotch and two glasses. One half full.

"I'll save this for another night, but I'm reliably told you appreciate Scotch, right?"

She sat on the couch and I joined her. After she poured me four fingers of the nectar, she folded one leg under another, half facing me on the couch. We talked Scotch for a while. Her husband was a Scotch drinker and had turned her on the finer brands.

There was a little light banter, a discussion of cats verses dogs as pets and an occasional touch on my arm or leg. Then she decided to really break the ice. She slid over, we both took a long drag on our Scotch.

"Ok, we know where this is going to go," she started firmly, "Let's see where it started shall we? When and where was your first fuck?"

I left the glass at my lips a bit longer, then swallowed the Scotch hard instead of savoring it. I handed the near empty glass to her. As she leaned over to take the bottle for the refill I realized that the ribbon tie at her neck was now undone. The tie was on a matching floor length robe which fell open reveling a nice view down the loose fabric of the chemise underneath. In the mix of light and shadow, the shape of her breasts was very pleasing.

"You got me. I was going to go on the old play on words about leaving a coat at a party, you know, 'I went to a party with my virginity and left with someone else's . . .' "

She was very polite and laughed. It was lame, I was embarrassed and had to think quick. The actual circumstances of my first fuck were not worth repeating and traumatic to remember, so I went with my second fuck. But first a diversion.

"You mean first time with an actual person. A woman."

"Or with a man if that fits," she smiled and ran her finger down my arm.

Oh, she was way closer to the truth than she realized, so I stuck with women.

"Ok, in high school I had some encounters that were sexual, but the first real sex was with my twelfth grade English teacher. In her bed. When her husband was away." It was a wonderful memory and she taught me so much more than an appreciation for good literature.

"You devil. She robbed the cradle. Shame on her."

"I was 18 in the last few months of senior year. I never did figure how the schools calculated when you could go to first grade. But I got left back when we moved which made me nine or ten months older than my classmates. It meant I could drive before any of them, so that was a plus."

"Enough," she put ho her hand. "So you have experience with older women then? How old was she?"

"She was 26, blonde, a stunning beauty and wore skirts that were too short for the faculty dress code and had a habit of leaving her fine blouses unbuttoned more than reasonable. Especially last period of the day. I became an expert on quality women's lace bras."

I took a long gulp of my drink.

"Oh, please continue," she ran her finger from the nape of her neck down the open front of her night gown. Between the Jack and the Scotch and not enough for dinner, I was becoming less inhibited.

She slid over close and buried her face in my neck. I could feel her warm wet tongue make circles on my skin just below the ear lobe. For being away from a man for a while, she still had skills.

I described how she became more friendly, offering to tutor me on the finer points of certain books we had to read. How after school, in the department office she would be very close and very inviting. How she intoxicated me with her presence. In June she asked me to her house to help her open up the pool. Take off the cover, change filters, pull out deck chairs. She made lunch. I was striped to the waist in the unseasonably early heat and she was in a white bikini. I described what we did in the changing cabana by the pool.

All the while I was vaguely aware that her hand was on my leg and stroking it slowly. Each time getting closer and closer to her target.

"And did she give you a blow job?" This line was delivered as her hand cupped the bulge in my trousers.

I never got a chance to answer. She draped herself over me, crushing me in to the corner of the couch. Our lips locked in a very wet prolonged kiss. She used both hand to unbuckle my belt, unzip my pants and began to tug them down.

Fuck it I thought. She wants this and I'm willing to oblige. I pushed her back slightly, pulled off my pants and underwear in one move exposing my nearly hard cock to her. At the same time she shed her robe, pulled one side of the chemise over exposing a breast. She leaned forward and dragged the hardened nipple over the damp tip of my cock.

"Oh , my Lord that feels soooo good," she purred. Her hand gently wrapped around my cock and stroked it into her breast. Soft at first. Then harder. Urgently.

She moaned with pleasure, kissed me hard again and moved my hand between her legs. I needed no encouragement. My had found the blooming mound of her pussy through the fabric of the gown. I pressed one finger flat into the middle and two more on either side of the outer lips.

"Yes, do that," she said. She fell away from me leaning back into the sofa. It was too easy to move down to my knees, roll up the chemise and kiss the inside of her thighs. Her thighs were firm and defined. I licked them and kissed them. Lingering and teasing with my lips and tongue.

Her hands grabbed my head. Her nails dug into my scalp. It was too much fun to tease her. I dragged my hair over her skin and gently let my fingers probe closer and closer to her pussy.

Her back was arched and her eyes were closed. I leaned back, kneeling on the floor and rested my elbows on her knees. I took my hands away and asked, "When and where did you have your first fuck?"

"Oh no you tease, after, then I'll tell you, don't stop!"

This was going to be fun. I dragged one finger lightly up her inner thigh.

"You have very nice tits. When was the last time someone squeezed them? Or touched them like this?" I ran circles around the nipple of her right breast through he fabric.

"Fuck you," she pulled the gown open, grabbed my hand and made me cup her breast. "Harder, squeeze harder."

I did her one better. I leaned up, latched my mouth on one nipple and bit down with my teeth while my hand slid straight into her now wet pussy lips. She was wetter than I expected for a woman of her age who hadn't been fucked for a while. But then she had been working out with a vibrator for a couple years.

I took my thumb and index finger and found her clit. It was a very generous size clit. She screamed at the first squeeze. I took her whole nipple in and sucked very hard on it.

"Oh dear fucking God yes. You fuck. Make me cum. Fuck yes." She was screaming by mow and I thought the neighbors would hear. I didn't wait any longer and plunged one then two fingers into her pussy as far as they could go. I pumped my hand against her and sucked one breast then the other.

"Oh God, Oh God, I'm cumming . . . I'm . . . ."

My dick was rock hard and I really wanted to cum myself. I could feel her vagina contract multiple times then her arched back collapsed. She was panting. I slowing stroked my cock and took some of the pre cum off the tip and rubbed it against her parched lips.

"What was that?" She sat up some. "Did you put you semen on my lips?"

"It's an acquired taste. Did you like it?" I leaned back so she could see, even in the dim light, that I was stroking my cock slowly. She found her Scotch glass and took a drink.

I never got an answer to that. Holding her glass she made a long exhale and slumped into the sofa back.