Tell Me About It
- 1 month ago
- 28 min read
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I never thought she would actually go through with it.
That’s what I tell myself, at least.
It was one of those things where you just keep nudging things on a little. Would you go this far? Would you go this far? Well, if you went that far, then maybe you would...?
And she did.
With that guy. The one she’d mentioned a few times in the past. One of her old college friends, the one who gave her that dreamy look whenever she mentioned his name.
Bradley. What kind of a name is that? The kind that’s nearly always attached to a square jaw, an athlete’s physique and dreamy, brooding eyes. Whenever I pictured him it was as that brain surgeon out of Grey’s Anatomy. McDreamy.
So. McDreamy Bradley and Lucy, my wife.
I never thought they would, but then I can hardly claim not to have encouraged it, and I can hardly claim that I didn’t enjoy the thought of it either.
It just started as a bit of fun.
We like to share our fantasies. Talking dirty. Getting off on what’s in each other’s heads.
Lucy likes me to tell her about some of my own past exploits. It’s not about the names and identities. It’s more about the scenarios: a genuine scene we can talk ourselves into. So I tell her about incidents like that dinner party where my then-boss’s wife was clearly offering up more than dessert. That initial shock when I realized the knuckles brushing my thigh under the table weren’t accidental. When she leaned into me, laughing at some innocuous joke, balancing herself by slipping a hand onto my thigh. Fingertips pressing in, pulling my pants tight. Squeezing.
There’s a reason that’s the anecdote that comes to mind first of all. There was a moment when we were still around the dinner table and Julie’s knee was pressing against mine. She’d already done the knuckles-brushing thing and the squeeze at the top of the thigh thing, and then the eye contact over her wine glass thing and... well, there was no mistaking the hand placed firmly on my crotch, or the little smile she gave when my response became immediately obvious.
But that moment I’m talking about. It was when her husband looked across and met my eye. Frazier, my boss. CEO of the business consultancy that had headhunted me only a few months before.
He’d raised an eyebrow, smiled, and Julie had slid her hand into my lap again, instantly finding my, by now, towering erection.
He knew. Frazier knew. And he liked it.
And so now that I’m happily married to Lucy and we like to talk rude and dirty, I tell her how all Julie wanted that evening was to get me alone so she could drop to her knees before me while I fucked her face, rough and savage and urgent. How she’d pulled my hands up to her head so I was holding her by the hair. And then how when she’d sensed me about to come she’d pulled away and finished me with her hand so that my semen spat all over her face, covering her in sticky, glistening trails.
I knew she would tell him all about it. That was the thing for them: they both got off on her going out and, well, doing what she did. I wondered how many of the other guys from work had shot their load all over her like this.
And then, one time with Lucy, in the afterglow of a hot and steamy session, I’d told her how beautiful she was, how she could easily go out and pursue her fantasies if that’s what she chose to do. “You could go out there and have any man you like,” I told her.
Maybe that was the seed. The starting point from which everything else followed.
It came out of the blue, a few weeks later.
Lucy was away at some trade show or other. Nothing unusual in that. It was a normal part of her work.
The only difference this time was that, purely by chance, she spotted Bradley at the bar one evening and used him to escape a really dull business conversation. It was the first time she’d seen him in years.
She called me that night. At first she only mentioned the encounter in passing, but I could tell she was holding back so I pressed her. She had that tone of voice that goes with the dreamy expression.
What does that do to a guy, hearing his wife talk like that?
Up until now it had only been fantasy, a bit of talk between the two of us. It’s hot to know that your lover is attracted to other people, that she daydreams about what she might do with them. But it’s only fantasy. It’s not risky. It’s not the kind of scary that makes your balls retract and your breath catch in your throat when your wife is more than 200 miles away and you ask, “So you flirted with him?”
She tried to dismiss it, said they’d just caught up over drinks, so I told her, “It’s fine, Lucy. Really. I’m not precious. I’m not the jealously protective type, you know.” I tried to sound confident and calm. Tried not to reveal how anxious I suddenly was. I’m ten years older than Lucy. She really could go out and have whoever she wanted if that’s what she chose to do. The thought of losing her was terrifying.
“We did,” she told me. “Flirted. Just a bit.”
I had to dig further. I needed to know what they’d said, how far it had gone... How it had felt to be flirting with... another man.
As I started to tease the story out of her the mood shifted. A new tension in her voice, a hesitancy.
How far had they taken things?
I could tell she was aroused as she spoke to me. Was she imagining, or remembering?
“I’m thinking how he looked,” she told me now. “How he looked at me. Hungry for me. Eyes all over me.”
I could understand that. Lucy goes through periods when she has no confidence in her looks, when she’s far too aware that while her friends tend to be thin as sticks she’s a real woman with curves. For some reason she feels self-conscious about that, but when I look at her I always stop in my tracks and count my blessings. I love the lines and curves of her, the feel of her, the shapes she makes.
She surprised me then by asking what I was doing. “Is this turning you on? Where are your h ands?”
“I’m holding the phone.”
“That only takes one hand.”
I hadn’t even been aware. Hadn’t noticed the other hand stealing down my body as we’d been talking. Pressing and squeezing at the thought of Lucy’s body. At the thought of another man admiring that body.
I admitted I was turned on, and she said, “Get it out. I want you to play.”
I fumbled at my buttons, then pushed my pants down over my hips. Found the elastic waistband of my shorts and pushed them down.
Liberated, my dick sprang up to lie flat against my belly.
I pressed down with the flat of my hand. My foreskin had rolled back and now my palm glided smoothly across the wet glans. I started to rock my hand from side to side, enjoying the tight pressure between palm and belly, the drag of hard skin against the sensitive underside of the glans.
I wasn’t the only one playing.
“I’m wet, too,” she told me. “Very wet. Two fingers inside me just isn’t enough.”
I wrapped my fist around my shaft and started to pump, forefinger and thumb curled tightly, sliding up over the wet head.
“He kissed me.”
I nearly came.
I paused, squeezing tightly, trying desperately to hold it all in.
“He did?” I managed to say.
“Only briefly. On the lips, mouths closed. He tasted of bourbon and he smelled of musk and citrus. His stubble scraped.”
I pulled my hand slowly up along the length of my shaft, the grip tight. So close...
I closed my eyes, imagining her hand pressing at her pussy, fingers buried deep inside. Imagining McDreamy kissing her. His lean body up against her. Had she made him hard? Had they pressed together as they kissed, his erection against her? Where had his hands been...?
“He made me so, so wet, Jason...”
I grunted, felt that familiar surging sensation, starting deep in my belly. Felt the tightening of my balls and then wet heat rushing up through me. A jet of creamy semen spat up my belly, leaving a trail from my breastbone down to my navel. I pulled again and another spurt joined the pool on my belly.
Just as I started to grow soft, Lucy cried out at the other end of the phone line. Her breathing was rapid, gasping, as climax took her. I gripped my shaft hard and squeezed, milking another creamy bead from that narrow slit at the head of my dick and then, finally, the tension in my entire body started to subside.
“Oh my,” she gasped. “Was that...? Did you...?”
I don’t know what possessed me.
We should have left it at that. Some rude fun over the phone while hundreds of miles kept us apart. Nothing more.
But you know that thing where you just keep nudging a little farther? Would you go this far? Would you go this far? Well, if you went that far, then maybe you would...?
I still don’t know if what I did next was some kind of test for Lucy, if I was teasing her, or if I really meant it. It makes me think about that dinner party: had my boss Frazier felt this same mixed up mess of feelings that I was encountering now? A part of him willing his wife Julie on to seduce me while a primal, jealous part of him wanted anything but?
I called the hotel, put on my best drunken slur and said, “Hey! Thank you so much. Listen... This is kinda embarrassing, ya know? I’m up here on the fourth floor an’ I’m a lookin’ at my keycard an’ it doesn’t have a number on it... Can’t even remember what room I’m in. Already tried one door an’, well, guy didn’t really appreciate it, ya know?”
The receptionist was trying not to laugh, I could tell. “That’s okay, sir,” she said. “If you’d just refrain from trying any more doors and come back down to reception I’m sure we can help you out.”
“Sure, sure,” I said. “Must be an elevator hereabouts. Name’s Brad, by the way. Bradley Whiteside. I... Oh, wrong door...”
The receptionist did laugh this time, then said, “Please don’t try any more doors, Mr Whiteside! Look, you’re not even on the right floor. You need to go up one to the fifth, room 508.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, and hung up.
I hesitated long and hard before texting Lucy with the room number. That really was taking things to another level.
Moments later she replied:
You sure? xxx
I was anything but sure, but we’d crossed that line now, the same line Frazier had crossed when he’d just sat there watching his wife feel me up beneath the dinner table. Still hesitant, I thumbed a response:
I am. Tell me about it later. xxx
As soon as I’d pressed ‘Send’ I started to panic. Now understand this: I don’t do anxiety, I’ve never had a panic attack in my life. I’m a relaxed, laid back kind of guy. So all this was very new to me. Up until then I’d never understood how close fear and excitement can be. They’re both adrenalin-fueled feelings. Both involve that thumping of the heart, the knot in your chest, a dryness in your mouth and a struggle to breathe as you battle to keep them under control.
So I sat there, my body sticky with my own drying juices, my mind racing with all kinds of mad thoughts, and I realized I was becoming aroused again.
They say pleasure and pain are closely related, but now I knew that fear and arousal were, too.
I wanted to call Lucy again, but I didn’t know if I would tell her it was a joke or if I’d be hoping that when she answered she would already be on her way to room 508.
I picked up my phone, then put it aside.
I closed my eyes, but immediately I was visualizing her. Them.
I stood and went to the bathroom to wipe myself down. My dick pointed ahead of me as I walked, just below the horizontal. Rubbing myself clean with a hand-towel made me get harder again and I bunched the towel and pressed it against me.
I knew exactly what she would do. I knew how she would lock her gaze on his so he couldn’t possibly look away. She would drop to her knees, hook her fingers into his waistband. Maybe press her face against him, feel his growing erection through the fabric of his pants before, slowly, she would undo him.
She’d suck him in and hold him deep, squeezing with her throat around the head of his dick. It was a delicate thing she did, but guaranteed to make you go weak at the knees.
Then she’d start to work him, going through her moves, trying everything to see what worked best. Pumping him in a tight fist while she held the head of his dick in her mouth. Bobbing her head up and down on him, hard and fast. Delicate flickings of the tongue. Dragging him slowly between her teeth. That turn of her head as she sucked and pulled away. A hand on his balls, fingers pressing further back. Dragging clawed nails down his body...
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, couldn’t believe I was so hard again so soon, just thinking about my wife with another man.
Knowing that it was no longer a shared fantasy. It was happening right now.
I reached down, took my shaft in my hand again and started to pull long, hard strokes along the length.
What had I got into?
I closed my eyes, picturing the scene of Lucy on her knees before him. Bradley. Watching as her eyes moved from him, and she looked across at me, making eye contact as she dipped her head down against him, taking his full length into her mouth, and then...
Over, so quickly... That surging sensation again, a rushing of hot fluids and then I watched in the mirror as a creamy jet spat out across the bathroom.
I staggered, one hand against the wall to catch myself, and I thought, Oh Lucy! And I didn’t know if it was fear or excitement sweeping through me so intensely, so all-consuming.
When Lucy came back she told me everything, and I felt that same mix of responses. The fear and possessiveness, the excitement. The way all those conflicting responses seemed to amplify each other.
Now she was home and the last dick she had sucked had belonged to another man. Her last orgasm had been teased out of her by Bradley’s tongue and fingers. The last dick in her had been his.
I didn’t know how I felt, but the physical response was obvious.
“Oh my,” she sighed, as she took me in her hand and squeezed, exploring that hardness as if for the first time.
“Tell me,” I gasped. “Tell me all about it.”
She squeezed, twisting her wrist as she held me.
“You really want to know?” she asked. She peered up at me, batting her eyelids, biting at her lower lip. “You want to know how big he was? You want to know what he felt like? What he tasted like?”
She started to pull and stroke, still twisting her wrist... so many different sensations from that one movement!
“You want to know how much he turned me on?”
Later. Some long time later...
Lying tangled and exhausted, my head was still spinning with what she’d told me. Trying to understand my own response.
I thought of Frazier again. Could I be that man? The one who encourages his wife to go out and explore. The one who sits back and watches. The whole thing... well, it was a major mind-fuck, but the one thing I knew was that the feelings it provoked in me were incredibly intense.
The kind of feelings that, once you’ve experienced them one time, well...
“Have you ever kissed a girl?”
And you know how one thing leads to another?
Celia and Lucy go back a long way. They’d worked together when Lucy finished college, and stayed in touch ever since.
Celia is maybe five one or two, her figure is slight but still keeps its curves, she has wavy blonde hair with bangs almost over her big blue eyes and the kind of easy-going openness about her that immediately puts you at ease. She’d just split up with her boyfriend and Lucy was saying how hard Celia was finding it and, well, it had been automatic to suggest inviting her over for the evening.
I wasn’t planning anything. Really, I wasn’t! It was more about reaching out to a friend in need.
But I guess a part of my mind was still buzzing away, going over and over this scary, exciting new aspect of my relationship with Lucy.
As soon as the invitation had been made, I caught my mind wandering. Thinking about the visual of the two of them together: petite Celia just slotting into Lucy’s curves. Once that image was planted, it was hard not to keep returning.
I was intrigued to realize that the thrill was subtly different this time. The feeling of possessiveness wasn’t so strong. Did I feel less threatened by the thought of Lucy being with a woman rather than a man?
Almost certainly so.
But was it then, automatically, less intense? Because by now I fully understood that the excitement went hand in hand with the fear and insecurity.
And was I seriously worrying that the possibility of Lucy getting physical with Celia wasn’t going to be horny?
I left them to it. Shut myself away in my home office to catch up on correspondence.
I heard the door, heard voices, laughter. A short time later I heard footsteps and a door upstairs. We had a spare room up there, part guest room, part retreat where we would sometimes go to settle down on the big sofa and watch movies.
I tried not to think about what might be happening up there. They were drinking wine, watching a film, that was all. I didn’t even know if anything was going to happen at all. I certainly hadn’t talked about it with Lucy. The possibility might not even occur to her.
The door went again some time later. By the time I’d reached my office doorway Lucy was already there, handing over some money to the delivery guy.
She turned and spotted me.
“How’s things?” I asked.
She smiled. “All good,” she said. Then: “I’ve got a treat for you.”
I raised an eyebrow and my mind started to race, then she came over, holding up the smaller of the two bags. “Those pork dumplings you like,” she said. “And hoisin duck.”
She kissed me on the cheek, turned, and headed back upstairs.
I went back to my desk, pushed the papers aside, and spread out my feast.
I could barely eat a thing.
My mind just wasn’t there. It was one floor up, wandering.
I felt stupid, and more than a little like a dirty old man, shut up in my office and getting all hard and frustrated over something that almost certainly wasn’t even close to happening.
Lucy and I hadn’t discussed this, any more than that it would be a nice thing for her to spoil Celia a little.
The two of them were just watching a movie and putting the world to rights.
I had to break out of that frustration. I made myself calm down. Maybe this was better. Maybe it didn’t need anything to actually be happening. It was a fantasy, right? There was no harm in my mind wandering. Maybe later in bed I’d tell Lucy how I’d felt and we’d get to talking about where my thoughts had gone, and maybe we’d have some fun over that.
I loaded my chopsticks with rice and scooped it through the hoisin sauce.
Somehow I managed to distract myself and actually get some work done.
I hoped the two of them were having a good evening. I genuinely did. It was the right thing to do: I knew what a tough time Celia had been having lately.
Later, I shut down my laptop and headed for the stairs.
I paused at the top. The guestroom door was partly open and I could hear music and voices, the soundtrack of whatever movie they were watching.
I considered poking my head around to say goodnight, but held back and went to our bedroom instead. I really didn’t want to intrude.
I stripped to my shorts and washed, then sat on the bed, leaning back on my hands. It seemed wrong to go to bed alone; that almost never happened unless one of us was away on a trip.
I was saved from having to make a decision by the sound of someone moving about, then the door opened and Lucy came in.
Pushing the door shut behind her, she paused, looking me up and down. She had that look in her eye. Hungry. Now, all those thoughts rushed back. Had something happened?
“Celia’s going to stay over,” she said. “That okay?”
I said nothing, just raised an eyebrow.
She waved a hand at me, dismissive, laughing. She started to undress, and I sat back to enjoy the show.
“In the spare room,” she said, reaching back to unhook her bra. “I’ve given her some bedding, shown her where everything is. She’s had a little too much wine to be driving home tonight.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
She looked up and down my body again, my semi-erection obvious in my shorts. I remembered my earlier thoughts, wondered if I should share that I had been fantasizing about the two of them.
“Did you have a nice evening?”
She nodded, hooked a thumb into the waistband of her lace panties and pulled them slowly down.
This was always one of my favorite moments of the day. Lucy can be very self-conscious at times, but then, when the day is done and we get ready for bed, she drops her guard. Just the two of us, it’s as if she’s suddenly willing not only to accept that she’s a beautiful woman but to start enjoying it, exploiting it. We’ll undress for each other, encouraging the wandering eyes, the appreciation. For a split second she’ll hold a pose, knowing that it makes the most of her curves. She’ll lean, drawing the eye to her cleavage. She’ll enjoy the way she can move and that sudden confidence in her own body, well, it does things...
When she came to stand before me, my erection was like steel, so hard it ached.
“So...” I said. “She’s staying over, you say?”
She nodded, then reached for me, drawing my head into her cleavage. I looped my arms around her waist, reveling in the contact, the smoothness of her skin.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she said. She had her hands on the back of my head, holding me tight against her.
“So nothing happened?”
She pulled back so she could look down at me. Something had. Something had happened.
“It was nothing,” she said.
She was sounding too defensive again. I knew there was more.
“What kind of nothing?”
She laughed. “Really. We just snuggled down and watched a couple of movies. We didn’t do anything.”
“But it was clearly enough that it put the thought in your head.”
“Maybe.” Then: “It was all innocent, I’m sure. But when you’re sitting with someone like that and you know your husband is going to be thinking all kinds of things about what might be happening.” She put up a hand to cut off any protestations from me. “Yes, Jason, I know exactly what you’re like. Well, in those kind of circumstances your mind wanders, yes.”
I started to stroke the smooth flesh of her ass.
“There was one point where I had my arm around her and she just tucked right in. It was weird. Intimate. Entirely innocent, but, well...”
“How did that make you feel?”
She paused, then said, “She made me so wet! Just holding her like that. I wanted to put a hand on the top of her head, steer her down to my breasts.” As if for emphasis, the hand she still had on the back of my head pressed me in even closer.
I rolled my face against her, then peered up. “You could,” I said. “You could go back to her right now.”
She looked at me disbelievingly. “She’d run a mile.”
“How do you know unless you try?”
I followed her out of the bedroom, pausing only to slip my shorts down and kick them away. I wondered how Lucy felt right now. Nervous, surely. But then... there was that wiggle in her walk, that late-night just-the-two-of-us confidence about her. She was enjoying this. Maybe she wanted it more than me.
She paused at the doorway to Celia’s room, and I came to stand behind her.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her head poking around the part-open door.
I put my hands on Lucy’s hips and slid my dick along the crack in her ass.
God, I was turned on! The build-up, the anticipation and fantasizing all evening... even when I’d managed to distract myself with work, a part of my mind was still buzzing away, wondering what was going on.
Lucy squeezed her butt cheeks together and I adjusted my position, bending at the knees so that the slippery head of my dick could follow that crack down and slide between her thighs.
There was a sound from the room, an answer from Celia that I couldn’t quite make out.
What if she came to the door? I hadn’t even thought of that possibility! Oh my God... what if she found us like this?
“Can I get you anything?” Lucy asked.
I pressed against softness, wet heat.
I reached down, positioned my dick so it was nuzzling against Lucy’s wet opening.
I thought we were going to lose balance then, hadn’t realized Lucy wasn’t really leaning against anything.
We caught ourselves, and somehow stayed upright.
“I think I’m okay,” said Celia. Her voice indicated she at least hadn’t come to the door.
I pushed slowly until Lucy’s ass was pressing against me.
“You sure?” Lucy’s voice was all over the place.
I started to slide back out, even slower now.
I held myself with just the head of my dick inside her. I wanted this conversation between her and Celia to go on forever.
I started to push and Lucy gave a wiggle of the hips, then pulled away.
My dick flipped away from her as she took a step into the room, and I took a step back away from the door.
I leaned with my back against the wall as Lucy said, “Sorry. I don’t wear anything in bed. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
So Celia had seen her naked now. Lucy didn’t seem too alarmed at the reaction. Her voice had been... well, it was that late-night thing when the way she moved changed along with the tone in her voice. The confidence of a seductress.
My dick was wet from Lucy. From my own juices, too. I pressed it against my belly with the flat of my hand as I tried to visualize what was going on in there. So slippery against me!
Voices from the room. Muffled. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was... relaxed. Intimate. This really was going to happen.
One simple question: Have you ever kissed a girl?
I wondered if she had now?
I edged forward, trying to peer through the doorway without risking being seen.
Lucy stood at the end of the big sofa bed. Celia stood beyond it, her naked body visible from the waist up. Her breasts were small, pert, the nipples dark in the low light of the room. I let my eyes roam down her body to her narrow waist, the slight spread of her hips, and then the back of the sofa cut off my view.
I felt like a dirty old voyeur, seeing her like that. And I pressed my dick against my belly just a little harder.
As I watched, the two of them moved together. Lucy dipped her head and they kissed. At first there was no other contact but their mouths and then they moved closer and their breasts squashed together. Hands moved down, resting on hips, on the small of a dainty back. Lucy moved a hand up to cup one of Celia’s breasts, her thumb flicking at the nipple.
I realized I was stroking my dick to the same rhythm as Lucy’s hand working Celia’s breast.
Celia broke away then. They spoke, laughed. They seemed so natural together, so comfortable in their nakedness. They kissed again, more passionately this time, any traces of hesitation gone.
They started to press their bodies together, legs pressing, Celia’s thigh forcing itself between Lucy’s.
Their hands played a delicate dance across each other’s bodies, pausing to squeeze and caress. Their movements together were sinuous, more erotic than anything I’d ever seen before.
Lucy reached down and slid her hands between Celia’s legs. I could see the muscles in her arms flexing as she caressed and probed.
I took my shaft in my fist now and started to pump. The need was an ache and I needed release.
I felt that knot of tension deep in my groin, a pressure ready to explode. I wanted... I needed...
Held on tight.
Focused everything on keeping that pressure back down, deep.
Felt a deep throbbing in my shaft and thought that was it, then... slowly, slowly subsiding, the moment passing.
As I started to catch my breath I peered into the room again, but now they had lowered themselves to the sofa-bed and all I could see was the occasional glimpse of legs, a head rising and then lowering, a hand straining up to grip the back of the sofa, the knuckles white with tension.
I strained to hear what was happening. Heard groaning. A slap of flesh. Occasional wet sounds as they moved.
I held myself tight, my thumb wetly circling the head of my dick.
I don’t know how long I stayed there like that.
Long enough for my whole body to ache, for pains to shoot through my numb limbs when I finally forced myself to retreat.
Back in our bedroom, I went to bed. I’d stopped touching myself now, but still my erection was like a steel poker, long and hard against my belly.
Lucy came to me later, smelling of sex.
I must have dozed, eventually. Then I looked up and the door was open and she stood there, her skin pale in the dim light from the bedside lamp.
She came across the room and stood over me.
Leaned over, so that her breasts pressed against me.
When she kissed me, her mouth tasted of pussy, her chin and lips still wet from it.
“I have,” she told me. “I have now.”
And I knew exactly what she meant: I’ve kissed a girl.
“Tell me,” I gasped as her hand slipped down between us, found that rock-hard erection and started to press and squeeze and slide. “Tell me all about it.”
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