We were in the back yard of our Texas home on a bright, early fall day. We owned twelve acres in the Texas Hill Country. Our little slice of heaven. We spent every minute we could outdoors, caring for our land and enjoying our place.
“About what?” Carol asked.
She was in her usual outdoor garb; running shorts, an old tee shirt, and hiking boots. I was in my usual outdoor garb; nothing at all. I was sitting on a chaise lounge, a bottle of water, my laptop, and my phone on a table next to me. I had just finished my last conference call and my workday was done.
“What happened in D.C. last week, and where we go from here,” I replied, trying hard to sound serious but not ominous. Carol could jump to conclusions sometimes.
I was referring to the fact that I had a threesome with my roommate, Roger, and his wife, Denise. Roger and I shared a pied-a-terre in Washington, D.C. for business purposes. Our wives sometimes accompanied us on business trips. Last week Denise had done a lot more than just accompany Roger.
“But I thought we talked?” Carol asked, puzzled. “You sent me that text and then we talked for an hour the next day.”
She was referring to a text that said, “Wish you were here” with an embedded picture of my sucking Roger’s cock. Denise took the picture. And Carol was correct, we had talked through all the implications of opening our marriage fully to embrace another couple.
At Carol’s insistence I described the threesome in graphic detail. How Roger fucked me. How I fucked Roger. How I fucked Denise, and how we woke up the next morning and went back at each other in various combinations.
“There’s another aspect that we didn’t really get into,” I said, rising and picking up my traveling office. “Why don’t we pour ourselves a happy hour drink and take a walk around the place?”
We went inside our Hill Country ranch-style home. I slipped into shorts and sandals then joined Carol in the kitchen. She was pouring herself a glass of Chardonnay. I went to the freezer and removed the shaker of margarita’s I prepared at lunchtime. Ice, no salt, and a lime wedge later we were headed out the front door, our beagle eagerly following along. I always carried a few treats in my pocket when we took our evening walks.
Our happy hour walks served many purposes. We shared the beauty of our land together, talking of projects and plans we had for managing the land or improving our home. We talked about our day, comparing notes on our activities. And we talked about our future and ourselves. This time was sacrosanct for us. It was a vital part of our relationship.
“So what’s up?” Carol asked, sipping her wine as we walked toward the ridge that ran along the road. That road was the only reason I put on shorts for the walk. Our neighbors tended to be somewhat conservative.
“Well, last week was fantastic, and you’ve totally amazed me with how well you’ve embraced events,” I began. “But like we said, we seem to be changing some long standing rules that have served us well. Your wanting to know all the details of what went on was something new, as is the thought of you making it with Roger. I want us to discuss that.”
“You are worried about my hooking up with Roger?” she asked.
“No, no, not at all,” I replied. “In fact, I can’t think of anything more that I want in the world than to share you with him. I’m also looking forward to how our relationship evolves to include Denise. I guess I’m really referring to the fact that you wanted to know details. We’ve had a ‘don’t ask/don’t tell’ policy in place a long time. You told me you didn’t want to know about my activities, and that you were fine with what I did as long as I didn’t bring home a disease. And you made it clear that we were through at the sign of the first infection. I’ve always respected that, and I haven’t asked any questions about what you do with anyone else.”
We both knew that the other had liaisons outside our marriage. I had always wanted to be more open and honest with Carol. I trusted that our love was strong and that honesty and communication would improve our already strong marriage. And I always harbored a hope that communication could lead us to sharing of experiences, and eventually into active swinging. Carol had never shown interest in heading that way. She was raised in a strict Catholic household, and believed in avoiding even the whiff of a scent of possible conflict.
“And that needs to change?” Carol asked. “I guess I’ve been assuming that from now on you would just be with Roger and me, and sometimes Denise, I guess, and that would take care of everything else.”
“And I’m approaching this from a different direction,” I replied. “Why should you give up getting together with Mike or Don?” Her head whipped up with a look of panic on her face. “Don’t look shocked, we both know it happens. I’m fine with it. I’m very confident in our love and relationship and I know you have fun with the guys.”
“Well,” Carol said, the full extent of how the rules were changing just sinking in. “I hadn’t thought of that. How long have you known?”
“Oh, come on babe,” I chuckled and kissed her. “You always seem to forget that you’re married to a guy who works through all the Machiavellian politics of Washington for a living. I’m really good at putting two and two together. And remember, I’ve always wanted us to be more open, so please don’t think that I am judging you or feeling the least bit aggrieved. It’s just sex. It’s fun. And I do it too. In fact, that’s where all this is coming from.”
“Last week Denise put her nurse’s hat on and asked me a direct question,” I continued. “You know I’ve always told you that anytime you want to know about what I’m doing, just ask me directly and I’ll give you an honest answer. I applied the same rule to Denise, and gave her an honest answer. I figure that at some point that answer is going to get back to you, and I’d rather you hear it from me.”
Carol took a long sip of wine. We had come to one of our favorite parts of our land, the place where a small spring flowed from the side of the ridge. The spring didn’t flow year round, but when it did the water spread out into a small wetland. This ensured that we had wildflowers in this area in every part of the year except the dead of winter. I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes.
“So let me get this straight,” she said after a long moment’s thought. “You know about me with other men, and you’re okay with it. I know that you’ve had other lovers, but I never wanted to talk about it. We’re adding Denise and Roger to this mix, and that’s why we’re talking about it now. And I think I hear you suggesting that adding Denise and Roger shouldn’t change what we do with other people? How am I doing?”
“As always, my love, you’ve come to the heart of the matter,” I said with a smile. She had jumped forward with her logic, as I knew she would, but she landed in the right place. “I know Mike and Don pretty well, and I know that we can trust them to be safe.
“Denise is going to want to know particulars about those people,” I continued. “And about Don and Mike, because as a nurse she’s seen what STDs can do. If we’re going to have a relationship with Roger and Denise, and continue to see our friends with benefits, I think we need to be completely open and honest with each other first.”
This began a long conversation that continued through our walk and dinner. I told Carol about my swinging. She handled the fact that I had been with men much better than she reacted to my liaisons with women. But she knew full well that she could not throw stones based upon her own behavior. There were a few tears and some anxiety, but overall it was a cathartic experience for us both.
After dinner, by mutual, unspoken consent, we ended up in our large master bathtub together. We bathed and massaged each other, and then Carol went into the bedroom while I did some further cleansing. When I came out of the en suite she had candles lit around the room, and was sporting her strapon and nothing else.
A few minutes later she was pumping the lifelike dildo steadily in and out of my ass. I was below her in a modified missionary position. I had my hands on her lovely tits as she fucked me.
“So, tell me their names again?” she asked as she loomed above me. She was coming to terms within herself, and was finding that talking about our extracurricular activities was not only okay, but also stimulating.
“Jerry, Anita, and John live in San Antonio,” I replied. “Jerry and Anita are married. Jerry and John started a group of professionals for some discrete swinging back in the 90’s. They take turns hosting house parties. John is married too, and his wife swings with them, but she decided a few years back that she would go completely lesbian, so I’ve never done anything with her.”
I moaned a bit and rolled my hips up into her thrusts. The joy I was feeling in my heart from finally being totally honest with Carol, and receiving a positive response from her, was enhancing our lovemaking. I massaged her breasts, flicking the nipples lightly with my thumbs. This elicited an answering moan from her.
“But you’ve fucked Anita?” she asked directly.
“Yes,” I replied, looking into her eyes for clouds to form. I saw none. “And I’ve fucked John, and he’s fucked me. Jerry is strictly an anal ‘top’ so he has sucked my cock and fucked me, but I’ve never fucked him.”
“But you’ve sucked their cocks?” she asked, intrigued. For some reason the thought of her husband sucking a cock was more important to her than the fact that he let a man fuck him.
“Yes,” I said, rolling her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. This brought a gasp.
“Tell me about them,” Carol demanded, picking up her pace of pegging my bottom.
“John’s cock is short and fat,” I replied with a smile. This was getting to be fun. “Jerry’s is longer, but not huge, and has an upward curve when he’s hard. John cums in buckets, but Jerry’s cum is sweeter tasting.”
“Hmmm, sounds like Mike’s,” Carol said a little dreamily. Then she stopped fucking me and looked down at me, startled. The words had slipped out, and she was suddenly frightened.
I chuckled and rolled her nipples again, then wrapped my legs around her hips and pulled them forward, forcing her to continue fucking me. I smiled up at her and gave her a wink and a nod of my head. I felt like Saint Nicholas from the Christmas poem, only perhaps in a slightly different circumstance.
“Maybe you’ll let me see Mike’s cock someday?” I asked playfully. “I’ll share John with you if you want.”
“No way. Mike is straight as an arrow,” Carol said with a laugh, relaxing and continuing our fuck.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said speculatively. “Now Don, yes, I think he’s a strict straight shooter. But my ‘bidar’ tells me that Mike has sucked a dick or two in his day.”
“No! You think?” She asked, incredulous. “How can you tell?”
“It’s like women’s intuition,” I said. “You notice little things, tiny mannerisms. Most gay guys I know aren’t the effeminate caricatures that you see so often on TV. I think you’d be surprised at the range of men you see in a gay bar. Maybe I’ll take you to one.”
“You bet you will” she said enthusiastically, emphasizing her words with a harder thrust of the silicone phallus across my prostate. “That sounds like fun! Oh, honey, I’m so glad we’re talking like this. I’m sorry for keeping secrets from you and making you keep them from me. Never again, okay?”
“That’s a deal my love,” I promised. “And here’s an idea about Mike. Next time you’re with him, get on top and ask him outright if he’s ever been with a guy. Make sure he knows it turns you on. You might be surprised with his reaction, and I’d love to know the results.”
“Ohmigod, yes” she almost yelled. Her chest flushed and I realized that not only was she saying ‘yes’ to asking Mike about his sexual preference, but expressing pleasure at what my thumb just did to her clit.
“New rules,” she said. “Rule One, never bring home a disease; Rule Two, always tell each other about what we do with other people. How does that sound?”
“Perfect, sexy,” I replied. “Now tell me about Don. Fuck me harder, and tell me. Has he ever fucked your ass?”
I shifted to work my left thumb into the harness, seeking her clit, and grasped my hardon in my right hand. I began pumping furiously as she began to pound my rear. She reached down and twisted my nipples hard as she admitted that yes, both Don and Mike had fucked her, just like she was fucking me. I lost it right there.
Rope after rope of cum flew out the end of my cock. Most of it splattered my torso, but some hit her belly. A bit even hit her right breast. I bucked and writhed beneath my wife.
“God I’m such a slut,” I babbled. “Thank you. Thank you for letting me be your slut. I love you so much!”
With that I pushed her off of me and down onto the bed. The dildo popped free, waving wildly. I pushed her thighs apart. The strapon harness had no center strap, substituting leather that went around her thighs. This left her pussy open. She was grinning up and me and screaming “fuck me” as I sunk my cock into her core.
Despite having just cum, my cock remained hard enough to give her the pleasure she demanded. She reached down into the harness and rolled her clit between her fingers as I pushed my cum-slick cock into her pussy. I pumped her with a frenzy, the warm wetness of her vagina giving me pleasure that was almost excruciating so soon after an orgasm.
She thrashed her head back and forth on the pillow. Her short blond hair whipping back and forth. Her eyes tightly closed.
“Yes, yes, fuck me you slut,” she cried, rubbing her clit furiously while I pistoned into her. “Oh, I’m cumming. Yes, yes, yes. I love you. I love you!” And she came with a shattering orgasm.
I’d never seen her cum like that. It went on and on. The writhed beneath me, her chest flushed, beads of sweat popping out on her forehead. And her vagina pumped and pulsed around my cock. If was fantastic. It was mind-blowing. Our relationship transcended to a new level that night.
And it was all thanks to our little apartment in D.C.
