The neon sign proclaimed that good food, drink and fun could be found inside. Just fun? Or something more? Inside, fun gave way to passion, which then gave way to… sex, or at least the yearning for it. The lighting in the bar was dim which made things difficult to see, but not impossible. I sat on a stool at the end of the bar, observing. The place was a local “meat market” where men and women went to meet and then leave for whatever brand of passion they could muster. It was about three-quarters full with an equal number of men and women. My eyes kept coming back to a woman at the other end of the bar who was perched on a stool showing just the right amount of leg. About my age, 35, long brown hair down to the middle of her back and a pair of the most fantastic tits I have ever seen. She had on a short leather mini-skirt and a halter-top that concealed just enough to make you want to see more. Black lace push-up bra underneath with plenty of cleavage showing. The look was complemented by her fishnet stockings and red (bright red!) “come fuck me” pumps with five-inch heels. She looked and acted like a high-class hooker out for the night. A $500 an hour hooker. I knew her well. And not from paying for her pleasures. This magnificent sexpot of a woman was my wife Sandra.
Sandra had not always been like this. We had been married for almost 10 years, Sandra and I. During that time we had raised two reasonably well-adjusted kids, struggled and succeeded with our respective jobs and, somehow, managed to stay in love with each other. But… yea, I know, there is always a “but”. In our case the “but” was sex. Sure, we had an active sex life, making love two, sometimes, three times a week. Something had been lacking, though, and we both knew it even if we didn’t want to admit it.
It was… excitement that was missing. Our sex life, though active, had gotten, well, boring. But we made a deal for a solution that fit both our needs. As I look back on things I’m still not sure how we did it and not sure I care-it’s the results that count-but I’ll try and explain. So let’s go back to last night’s escapade at the bar. Sandra coyly winked at me just as the bartender, a lankly young black man named Marcus, delivered her a drink. Flashing him her best smile and coyly brushing her hand across his forearm, she accepted the drink with her now-characteristic flourish. She was surrounded by a group of men, all vying for her attention. She had them eating out of her hand as they competed to be the one she left with. I paid for my drink, satisfied Sandra was in complete control, and left. I drove around for about 2 hours or so and then made my way home. As I drove my mind wandered, wondering which guy she would pick. The older executive type, the young stud, or the bar lothario with the flashy car and flashier wallet? I knew she would surprise me. She usually did-these days.
After allowing enough time for Sandra to get home and get started, I parked in the driveway, careful not to make any noise. Entering the house there was only one feature-darkness. The hallway was pitch-black with no light on in the house. The kids were away for the weekend; we had planned to be alone. Well, not quite alone. My cock got hard in anticipation of what I might find. I fumbled with my keys, almost stumbling over something that lay scattered on the floor. Reaching down, I picked up first a woman’s bra, then panties. There was a complete wardrobe thrown about. Mini-skirt, stiletto high heels, then a man’s trousers and shirt. Which guy was it, I wondered? And…what would my reaction be this time? She’s at it again, I thought. But, as we said to each other when we started this, a deal is a deal.
I only had to continue on with my search to confirm my suspicions. Following the trail of clothes strewn in the hallway, I came to the end of the foyer. Sounds, intermittent noises came from the back of the house. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I spied a small sliver of light peeking out from under the door to the master bedroom. Shivering with anticipation, I crept silently to the doorway.
Pressing my ear to the door I could hear, even feel, motion inside. Reaching for the doorknob, I turned it ever so slowly, easing the door open as I did. A lone candle burned in the corner of the room, casting light randomly about, the shadows moving with the flame. It would take several seconds for my eyes to adjust again but my hearing picked up the sounds immediately, the unmistakable sounds of sex. As my vision became clearer I saw our familiar four-poster bed, draped with sheer white linen to obscure, but not hide, what (and who) was behind. I could discern the outline of a woman kneeling on the bed, her hand grasping at the waist area of a man standing at the other side. As I lifted the linen cover the woman’s outline took shape, became clearer, and I recognized Sandra’s familiar shape and curves. Five foot nine, long brown hair, tits round and firm from recent cosmetic surgery, sculpted ass. Even though she had her backside towards me I would know her anywhere. You get to know every aspect of your wife, being married as long as we had been.
Her male friend was vaguely familiar. Tall, muscular, but not overly so. Early 20’s, about half our age. Hidden by the darkness I could barely see him. As recognition came I thought, yes, Sandra had surprised me again. Her choice for tonight was the bartender, Marcus. And a good choice at that. His skin was the color of charcoal, which contrasted sharply with my wife’s pale complexion. And well-endowed. I could tell his cock was big even though Sandra had at least 4 inches of it firmly planted in her mouth with her hand around the rest. Oblivious to my presence, she continued her sucking. As I watched I marveled at her sensuality. My cock got hard as she tilted her head back and took his cock in, not just partway, but all the way down to the base of the shaft. Arriving there she pumped with her lips and tongue, giving him an incredible pleasure that, just watching, took my breath away. Before we made our deal Sandra gave head to be sure, but without really “liking” to do it. Now she was a tigress as she gobbled his engorged chocolate cock like there was no tomorrow. You can tell when a woman likes giving a man head and Sandra liked it…hell, she loved cock now. All kinds, white, black, brown, circumcised or not. Lately I noticed a penchant for black guys with 8 inch, maybe, 9 inch cocks. Well, a deal is a deal.
Marcus glanced at me in surprise, not expecting to see me. He began to pull back but I raised a finger to my mouth and made a shushing motion, indicating that he should remain silent. He must have recognized me as a friendly face from the bar because, visibly relieved, he looked back down at my wife and continued receiving from her that magnificent blowjob.
I moved silently to the bed, lifted up the linen, climbed on the bed and knelt at my wife’s backside. She still had not observed my presence. Stroking my cock, I brought myself to erection, inserted my cock into her now glistening pussy and began thrusting.
Sandra was startled by the addition of a third person to the bed but did not pause or miss a beat. From behind, each pulsing, driving move into her pussy was met with an equal, but opposite movement from her. On the other side, Marcus picked up the motion, moving his hips and cock into her mouth each time I reached a downstroke. It went on like this for some time; maybe a half hour, until Sandra withdrew from me, took Marcus’s hard black cock out of her mouth and beckoned him to lie on his back. He did so and Sandra climbed onto him, inserting his still hardened member into her pussy. Without a sound she leaned forward, looked over her shoulder at me and nodded. I hesitated a moment, then realized what she wanted. I stepped forward and inserted my cock into her ass and, to my surprise; she took it without a hitch. Two cocks! One in her pussy and one in her ass, this was something new. Sandra had definitely been practicing this because she took both our cocks like a veteran. Not long afterward we both withdrew and Sandra motioned me to lay on the bed in the opposite direction from Marcus. She had us turn on our sides until our cocks were almost touching one another. She leaned over us and sucked one cock while stroking the other with her hand. I watched, rapt with fascination, my eyes glued to the spectacle. Light and dark, black and white, Sandra sucked us both to completion. In one mighty surge, both of us came on her face, neck and backside. Sandra squealed in delight as our jism spewed over her. Soon we lay exhausted on the bed. Sandra wiped a stray runner of jism from her mouth and eyes, turned to me and said, “Welcome home, Bill (that’s me). I hope you don’t mind. I may have started without you but I finished with you. Isn’t that what’s important?”
Mind? Well, perhaps most men would mind seeing their wife with another man. But not me, and not since we made our deal. Watching my wife fuck and suck other guys was an incredible turn-on! And it wasn’t as if our deal hadn’t let me get my share of exotic babes. As I lay there, my mind raced back to the events of the recent past. How did we get here? To this life of raw, unbridled passion? To answer that for you we have to go back further, to a month ago.
A Month Ago…
Yes, just one month ago. I was leading a staid, suburban life; a wife, two kids, a dog, a pool and a mortgage, with their demands on my attention not necessarily in that order. Off to work at seven, back by seven at night, dinner, help out with homework, the dishes, then fall sound asleep only to start the next day and do it all over again. One day the same as the rest. Except this day would bring a total change in my life.
Sandra and I had a 4 P.M. appointment with a Dr. Shaver, who was advertised as a sex therapist. We had jointly decided to visit a professional to see what we could do to re-light the flame that had seemed to go out. We arrived at Dr. Shaver’s office promptly and were ushered into the office by a secretary who told us the doctor would be right with us. Expecting a cross between Dr. Laura and Sigmund Freud I was not to be disappointed when a matronly woman of at least 60 years walked in and introduced herself as Dr. Shaver. She couldn’t have looked dowdier if she had tried. Long dress down to her ankles, gray hair in a bun, and eyeglasses on a strap. How do you talk about sex with your grandmother, I thought?
Well, in a few minutes Dr. Shaver’s quiet demeanor had us both open and talking. She led us through a discussion of our marriage and worked her way around to the topic at hand – sex.
“Well,” she said, “Let’s play a little game. First, Bill, I want you to write down what you think Sandra wants in her sex life. Then, turning to my wife, Sandra, I want you to write down what you really want.”
We wrote for a few minutes and handed our papers to Dr. Shaver. She read each of them without giving away a hint of what we had written. Then, strangely, she asked Sandra to leave the room for a minute. With a quizzical but sly look, she left Dr. Shaver and I alone. What now, I thought?
“Bill,” she said, “Whenever I counsel couples, I ask them to writedown their sexual expectations. Every so often I find that two people have vastly different ideas of what they need from their partner. Your idea of what Sandra wants is very far removed from hers. Read what you wrote first, out loud”. She handed me one of the papers. I read back what I had written. I told Dr. Shaver that I thought that Sandra wanted what women are supposed to want-cuddling, making out, tender (but unexciting) sex. Then she handed me the paper that Sandra had written. My eyes grew wide as saucers as I read her response. My staid, unexciting wife had written just a few words. But they told volumes.
“Go ahead, Bill”, said Dr. Shaver, “Read what Sandra wrote-out loud”.
I stammered a few times before I could get it out. Only a few words but powerful ones-enough to make anyone stutter. Here is what she wrote: “I want to experience sex with wanton abandon. I want my husband but I also want other men and their cocks, the more the better, that’s what I want. I hope Bill will give it to me.”
Speechless, I could only sit there in stunned surprise until Dr. Shaver broke the silence by saying, “Sometimes the person closest to us is the person we know the least. Did you have any inkling Sandra harbored these desires?”
“Absolutely no idea at all”, I said, recovering my composure. “I certainly have fantasies about a more, shall we say, “open” lifestyle but I always thought it was something Sandra would never consider.” With that I sat back in the chair and thought for moment. “What should I do?
Dr. Shaver’s response was to the point. “Well, that is totally up to you. Why don’t you try asking Sandra yourself”? And with that Dr. Shaver went outside the room for a minute and came back with Sandra. We both sat together, obviously wondering where to go from here. Dr. Shaver broke the ice.
“Sandra”, she said, “Why don’t you tell Bill what you want from him. Go ahead and be honest-just like your words in your note.”
Sandra and I looked at each other in a way we had never looked before. No words, just an unspoken understanding passed between us.
“Is this what you really want”? I said.
“Yes”, said Sandra, “More than anything else. But…only if you are with me…I love you, Bill. No one else but you”.
I waited a moment, thinking to myself, this will change our lives forever. But, for better or worse? Who could tell? There was no turning back now.
“I understand”, I said. Let’s get on with our lives.” We thanked Dr. Shaver for her help and left.
We made a deal, Sandra and I. To help each other fulfill our innermost sexual cravings. No jealousy, no regrets-just total, wanton abandonment. And a deal is a deal.