“The usual?” Lily had asked.
My bravery had blossomed that day, and it was anything but the usual. Lily only came to do my hair a few times a year, and I’d been carting around a crush on her for ages. For three years she’d been visiting to cut and color me, since no one else seemed to do it right, and she no longer worked at the salon where we’d first met.
“I was thinking something new,” I said, as she came around to stand in front of me, brushing my bangs down over my eyes to judge how long they were.
“How new?” she asked. Her brown eyes sparkled as she looked down at me.
“Really new. Really short. Really blonde,” I said, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in my throat.
“Sounds good.” Lily smiled and stepped a bit closer to mess with my part. I could smell the cinnamon and spice scent of her favorite perfume, and under it, the pretty light scent that was all her.
Digging in the garden doesn’t sound particularly sexy, I know. It can be, though. Trust me. Because that’s when I get to unabashedly watch my wife’s gorgeous ass as she crawls through the huge box of dirt we’ve deemed a garden. And by God, for some reason that woman almost always wears white. So she ends up with streaks of earth on the seat of her shorts—streaks that are just begging to be traced with my fingers.
It was a sticky, late-summer day the last time I lost my manners and acted on impulse.
“I can feel you looking at me, you know,” she said.
We’d waited very late in the day to harvest the blessed green onions that took forever to grow. The later in the day, the cooler it was. The sky was coming down to a nice purplish shade, and when the wind blew, it was almost cool. Almost.
Her ass looked damn near neon in the odd summer light. It was those white shorts; they practically glowed.
My wife and I enjoy your magazine, particularly the stories about swinging and group sex encounters, which up until last year we’d never dreamt of being a part of. Fiona and I don’t have an open marriage, per se, but we’ve been involved with a number of couples, who wouldn’t have thought about sharing their mates until we related some of our stories and curiosity got the best of them. But first, let me tell you the tale of the first time we invited other people into our bed.
For our vacation last year, Fiona and I went on a seven-day Caribbean cruise. Our first stop was St. Thomas. After breakfast onboard, we headed for Megan Bay, one of the most beautiful beaches in the Caribbean. Not only was the beach beautiful, but there were also a number of ladies sunbathing topless, which made the front of my swimsuit stand out. After a few rum drinks and some coaxing, Fiona removed her top and revealed her beautiful breasts.
I figured there were a number of fellow boat passengers at the beach, but I didn’t recognize any right away. Soon a couple of guys strolled over and introduced themselves as Chad and Jack, and said they had the cabin next to ours. Funny, I hadn’t noticed them, but they sure were noticing my wife, which was a turn-on for me.
Kaylee always obliges me when I tell her I need it. I don’t need it as often as I used to, but sometimes when the urge is strong, it’s like an itch under my skin that can’t be scratched—no matter how hard I try. The only thing that works is seeing my wife with another man.
“I need it,” I said, over dinner the other night.
Her answer was the same as always. “Okay, I’ll set something up.”
Then back to homemade pizza on focaccia bread and a kick-ass Chianti to wash it down.
It only took her a night to set things up. Kaylee is a looker. She’s tall and lean, with hair the color of wheat that sways down along her back. Her legs seem to go on forever, and her toenails are always painted an unusual color, which adds a bit of intrigue. When she’s naked and there’s nothing on her insanely hot body but navy blue polish on her toes—it adds something.
Mack and I have been known to hook up whenever we can. It’s rarely planned; it tends to be a spur of the moment deal. I know his big secret: He likes it a bit rough. And he knows mine: I love anal. Always have. Together, we make a mighty fine pair, especially when we’re horny.
The last time our attraction had a chance to spark into an encounter was when we closed up the restaurant after a big holiday weekend.
“You wanna grab some linens from the storage space? There are two things left on the list. Swap out the linens and grab new candles for the tables. I’ll get the candles.” His eyes tracked over me for an instant, and I swore I actually felt his gaze on my skin.
I’d always sort of wondered what cock tasted like, but being a generally straight guy, that’s not the easiest thing to discover without putting yourself really out there. I’d considered asking girls about it after they’d sucked my dick, but it seemed strange to ask them and I wasn’t certain if their answers would satisfy my curiosity. Same thing went for my few gay or bisexual friends; it just wasn’t the sort of thing I could see myself bringing up. Yet, deep down, I knew it was something I wanted to experience for myself.
Then, as fate would have it, I met Kenny. He was a good friend of a coworker who started meeting us for after-work drinks, and he was very vocal about his bisexual proclivities. One night, after everyone else had left the bar and I was a little buzzed from one beer too many, I decided this was finally my chance to ask what it was like to suck off another guy. Though my voice cracked when I asked him, he seemed perfectly comfortable—and somewhat amused—about my choice of conversation and asked what exactly I wanted to know.
We still talk about it. It’s become something of a legend to us when we’re naked and kissing—on the verge of fucking. Our trip one year to Mardi Gras—the crowd, the smoke, the booze, the beads. All of it crushed around us as I lifted her skirt.
Olivia’s ass is a thing of beauty, and in the midst of copious forms of drunken debauchery, I’d let the mood sweep me away.
“What are you doing?” she yelled in my ear. Though in the noisy throng, it was barely a whisper.
“Just looking.” I palmed her ass and smoothed my fingers over the butter-yellow fabric of her panties.
“People will see.”
“Go for it, man,” a guy shouted as he drifted by in the crowd.
The encouragement from a stranger made what I was doing that much better. I yanked her back toward me, with her skirt still flipped up. Pushing my cock to the split of her ass and feeling her heat, I groaned.
In our world, there are many things that are never questioned, because the answers are already there, deep in our minds and in the depths of our hearts. When you know those answers, there is nothing that a committed person won’t do to make sure that their lover is happy. Such is the case in my current relationship. Oh, you don’t wanna hear about all the mushy stuff? You want me to get right to the good parts? Well, if you insist!
When you walk into our house, you see the same things that are in every other house in America. It’s a cute, little abode with quaint furnishings. The same everyday paintings hang on the wall, along with a hall full of family and school portraits. We have a loveseat and a couch like everyone else, and an old TV. Yet, there is a secret that many don’t know about. A secret that many could only dream of, one that releases all bounds of insecurity and allows only instinctual behaviors—one based on lust.
I am still best friends with one of my sorority sisters from college. Janet married Randy, a wonderful guy who played on our university’s football team. Randy is still a handsome six-foot-two, 180-pound, muscular guy. He has maintained his athletic build after ten years. I married Alex, who is handsome, but not tall as Randy. Alex has a slender body, which some would say is more girly than masculine. Well, that has turned out to be an asset. Why? Because after three years of marriage, I discovered that Alex likes to become Alexis. I caught him wearing my clothes. Alex had thought that when I discovered his passion for feminine fashion, it would be the end of our marriage. But I love the guy. When Alex is Alexis, I love her also. Over the years Alex has exercised and kept up his appearance. Alex makes up into a very sexy woman. At five foot eight, Alexis fills out a size ten dress very nicely. She does her makeup exquisitely. Her hair has grown out and is maintained at a length that is easily styled into a short, sassy feminine look. I have absolutely no hesitation going out with Alexis as girlfriends.
Last Friday, I’d had that sort of rough day when nothing went the way I planned. I’m a potter, and my hands and the clay did not come together once. When I found that I’d had to scrap everything I’d started, I fell into a bad mood. The only thing that alleviated my stress was the thought of asking Tim for a spanking.
When I’m feeling naughty, I know exactly what to do to get Timothy’s attention. I don’t have to be bratty or pout or give him looks. I simply show up for dinner in my special bad-girl costume. That’s all it takes. Of course, the costume is pretty spectacular. I went on a hunt at our local thrift store one afternoon and came away with a plaid schoolgirl skirt and a white button-up blouse. To add to this look, I always wear white thigh-high stockings and the highest patent leather pumps I can walk in.