I was trying my best to just flow with it, not think too much. I always think too much. Feel, just feel. Breathe; that’s the key thing. Be sure to keep breathing. In and out. Nice and easy and smooth. I could get through this.
And don’t look! I couldn’t look. I will soon, I promised myself. But not yet. Breathe.
I stood in our bedroom. My back to our bed. Eyes closed even though I had just turned off the lights. Trying to keep myself under some kind of control as my husband caressed my shoulders, my arms, that sensitive spot right at the back of my neck, right where the spine ends, that he knew I loved so much. His touch was light, sensual.
And moving very slowly, that’s not usual for him. Once he gets going, he likes to go.
He’s trying to help, I suddenly thought. Trying to help me relax. That’s sweet.
He traced a finger across my shoulder, up my neck, under my chin. His other hand at the small of my back ever so gently pulling me into him as he lifted me to tiptoes, bringing my lips up to his. I wrapped him in my arms, trying to match soft with soft. A gentle, soothing, lingering kiss and I tried a little harder not to think so damn much.
After all, thinking is what got me into this mess.
Another tiny little kiss, this time right on the tip of my nose, brought a smile to my lips. Then one on my forehead as his hand allowed my chin down. I tilted a little, and he pressed his nose into my hair; he loves the smell of my hair.
He lifted and kissed me again, still light, but this time I felt his tongue pressing. I opened a little, allowing him into me, tasting him. Familiar, comfortable. Our arms up and around each other’s shoulders. He wrapped me, still soft, pulling me toward him.
Usually, I just loved all of this. And it still felt good. But tonight was different. I desperately tried to concentrate only on his touch, to feel just that, and not to think about the girl sitting across our bedroom, watching us.
We had talked about this for a long time. Sharing our bed with another woman. Since before we were even married. Just joking around, I had always thought. Some sexy pillow talk, cuddling together in the darkness. Something spicy to get him hot. Or hot again. For me, I had always thought.
I stood absolutely still, not daring to move. Eyes still closed as his hands worked the buttons on my blouse, one by one, from neck to navel. He slipped it off and let it flutter away.
He reached around and unhooked my bra. I should have done that, I thought; he always fumbles with the clasp. But not this time. He got it on the first try. A good omen? He pulled straps from my shoulders, leaned back, and then lifted satin cups from my suddenly bare breasts.
I felt my nipples harden in the cool night air. It’s mostly the cold, I thought. But maybe not. Don’t think; I reminded myself again. I can get through this. Somehow. Then back to normal, it’s just one night in the thousands we’ve been married, will be married.
The bra slipped down my arms. In the utter stillness of our bedroom, I could hear it land on the floor. He reached up to tickle first one, then the other. He always went left, right, left, right. He reached around me again, but this time lower, much lower.
Hands on my butt, he pressed softly. Not lifting. Just suggesting. Encouraging. I rose to tiptoe again, my first voluntary movement. I knew what he wanted. Don’t think; I reminded myself again. After all, I’d agreed to this long ago. Even asked for it. I’ll know when it’s OK to look, but not yet. Breathe.
I heard quiet giggling from across the room. I pushed it away, don’t think, don’t imagine. Just feel.
My husband had undressed me, seen me undressed, naked, many times, of course. She never had. I wondered if she was judging me. How I looked compared with the other women. The other women she had slept with. Fucked.
God, she was young. And gorgeous. And very modern. She had said, “Yeah, I love to fuck girls,” as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Tolani. We had known her for years, ever since we bought a home just a few streets down from her parent’s house. On the first Saturday of every month, we usually picked her up, drove over to some friends, and she babysat their kids while we went out for the afternoon. Played tennis and saw a movie. Then we drove her back.
She had blossomed slowly before our eyes. From a nerdy teenage girl with pimples and huge sweaters to a stunning young woman about to leave for university. Today had been her last day babysitting; tonight, our last trip taking her home.
I could never, ever do something like this with a stranger. Some anonymous woman we met in a bar, at the mall, found on Instagram. All of the different ways we had talked about finding someone to share. And, of course, a friend would be much, much worse. Someone I would have to face the next day if it turned into a disaster.
So I thought I was safe. That it was safe to fantasize along with him, even tease him. About sharing. And being shared. Playing along with the game. Pointing out women on the street, in restaurants or in the supermarket.
Whispering into his ear later that night about how their bodies would look naked, how their lips would feel wrapped around his erection, how loud they would squeal, orgasming to my touch. That kind of thing. And then watch him get hard for me with quiet satisfaction.
Because I thought it over very carefully, and I couldn’t imagine how it would ever possibly be ‘just right’ enough.
We hadn’t talked about Tolani this way at all. She was way too young. The thought of her simply hadn’t entered our minds. But tonight, almost as soon as the car door closed, she just came right out and said it.
“Boy, I sure love to do you guys before I leave.”
Hot mouth on my nipples. He sucked me in, jaw wide and twirling his tongue around. I moaned, long and low. Even nervous, I’m very sensitive there as he knows so damned well. That always gets to me. I ran my hands through his hair, then held his head, guided him, and felt the button of my jeans. Then the zipper. The bed was right behind me. He simply pressed my hips. I sat back and down, then onto my elbows with my butt just at the edge.
Our bedroom was familiar territory. This was a familiar ritual. I didn’t need my eyes. He lifted my legs straight up and tugged, I wiggled, and suddenly I was in just my panties.
She giggled a little again. I was in our bed, practically naked, with no place to run; it was going to happen. And suddenly, I just had to look. I opened my eyes at last and turned to see her reaching out to pick my bra up from the floor, admire it, and then smile at me. “Great undies,” I think she whispered quietly.
I had no idea what to say to that except a quiet ‘Thank you.”
Her eyes flicked to him. Still smiling, though not nearly as sweet as to me. More like… hungry.
He undressed quickly, tossing his clothes on top of mine. Once free of his boxers, his erection passed through halfway-hard and stiffened before our eyes. Hers and mine.
I watched her watch him. Yes, definitely hungry.
My husband had jumped at the chance to jump her lovely bones, of course. Talked to her over his shoulder about our threesome like we did this kind of thing all the time. I guess he was right, if only in our heads.
And I was in no position to object, of course. I told him so many times that I would love to. Always carefully adding ‘… but only if it ever seems right’. Thinking it never would. Could. But from out of the blue, it couldn’t possibly be better.
She was on the pill. Stunningly, achingly beautiful. Hell, she was even legal. Certainly not saving herself for marriage. And she would never say a word to her parents. There wasn’t a single thing that I could say.
Except that I had been lying all along, of course. And it was way too late to admit that now.
Tolani sat in the chair as he slid into our bed, then up and over to behind me, erection now clearly full and dragging across my hip. Eased me around to lie parallel with the bed. Lifted my shoulder to face her, spooning his erection between my thighs, chin on my shoulder and ear next to mine.
We watched together as she rose at last with a big smile and began to undress. Moving very slowly too. Putting on a show for us.
First, her hair. She pulled out some pins, and they cascaded past her shoulders in soft, luxuriant waves, glistening in the bedroom’s moonlight, bouncing down and coming to rest somewhere below her shoulder blades. She shook some more of it loose, running her fingers through.
Tee shirt up and off, casually, with no hesitation at all. She tossed it over to the pile. Her bra was barely a wisp of lace, cut so it only covered half of her nipples, the rest showing through even in the dim light. Her cleavage was soft and luscious and very full.
She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then carefully turned to face the clothes pile, giving us a breathtaking sight as she bent from the waist to haul them down. She held like that longer than necessary, showing off her full, rounded buttocks and clearly visible labia barely covered by lace. Her scent floated over to us, dark and musky and alluring.
I was already wet with anticipation. Had been since well before I turned off the lights. I felt a drip trickle through my soaking panties and run across my thigh.
My husband’s hand slid across my hip, over my arm, and then up to my breasts. His fingers went back to my nipples, much harder now, forgetting himself. Well, I couldn’t blame the guy. We had been talking about this for a very long time. I reached up and stroked his hand, helping to quiet him.
But his erection between my legs was as stiff as I had ever felt.
She smiled again at us, upside down, from way below knee level.
I was shocked when Tolani said she imagined fucking my husband sometimes while masturbating. And I was stunned when she said she imagined me more often.
“You were my very first orgasm. A girl never forgets!” She unbuckled, then leaned up from the back seat to give me a quick peck on the cheek.
“And you were my first boygasm.” She gave another one to him.
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