Wendy Shares Me

by

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Polygamy/Polyamory, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Nudism, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Liberation for one family. Wendy is my wife.

I've been retired for several years now, even though I'm barely 47. I was lucky, both in business and in the market. Like a lot of guys, one of the sacrifices I made (without realizing it at the time because I was so busy 'making a good life for us') was my marriage. From the start I'd told Mary that I didn't want kids. She agreed at the time, wholeheartedly. When we wed I was twenty five and she was twenty one.

About three years later she started talking about kids. But I held my ground. In fact, I had gotten a vasectomy and she was aware of it. When I mentioned that, she claimed that microsurgery could reverse it (for only $10,000!)I felt betrayed because she had agreed not to have children. The subject had caused quite a few arguments over the years but she eventually stopped talking about it. I was pretty sure she resented it though.

By my fortieth birthday we were living in a great area in a five bedroom home she had picked out and decorated to her taste. She seemed to appreciate and enjoy the rewards of my work. It made it possible for her to live a life of leisure: shopping, spas, lunches with her equally well off friends. I felt like a success and I thought we were content with our life. We still had sex several times a week, even then. And it was good sex, judging by my feelings and Mary's reactions. I guess you know what's coming don't you? Well, maybe...

Just before the Fourth of July one year I came home from a three day business trip to Chicago to an empty house – I mean empty. I learned from neighbors that Mary had hired movers to clean the place out. The only things left were my things and the appliances. Of course, other than the refrigerator where I found her note, she had no use for lowly appliances. We had help that did the cleaning and laundry anyway. She even took my favorite chair and the television.

The note explained that she had felt "unfulfilled" for years, racketa, racketa ... Our life had become a cliché. She advised me to have my attorney contact her attorney and not to attempt any direct communication. She didn't say where she was going or if she was going alone. It wasn't even signed. I'd come to mean that little to her. I was stunned, to say the least. Her lawyer's card was under the magnet with the note.

In the end, I settled with her and avoided paying spousal support. It cost me a bundle, but I was left with more than enough. So was she.

Anyway, all that is prologue. The meat of this story starts two years later when I met Wendy. I'd been so badly burned by my marriage I'd shied away from serious relationships. I had female friends and 'fuck buddies', but I always broke things off when things started to drift toward exclusivity. I missed bareback sex, but I traded that pleasure for staying healthy.

Wendy was the cousin of the wife of my friend, Brad. I went to a barbecue at Brad's and he introduced us. She had been widowed, remarried and then, like me, was divorced. Unlike me, however, she had kids: a stepdaughter of twenty nine (the daughter of her first husband) and a son just turned twenty one. They were both out on their own, and in other parts of the country, so it didn't matter much to me. Wendy worked as an assistant to a local legislator on the state level.

For some reason, being around Wendy (she called me to go for a drink the next week after the barbecue and we started dating each other exclusively in spite of myself) hit my heart like a sledge hammer. When I was with her I felt light-headed and giddy. Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't have to make fun. By the time I realized I was falling in love, it was too late. The feeling was so much more profound than I'd ever had, even with Mary, it was amazing.

Brad didn't know what I was worth (even after Mary had taken a chunk of it with her), since my accountant and I were the only ones who knew that. Brad knew I was fairly well off because of our friendship and my lifestyle, but had no clue to the reality. So I was pretty sure that Wendy wasn't after my money. From the way she dressed and spoke – of overseas vacations and other things -- it seemed she had some bucks of her own anyway.

She was a tiger in bed and was eager to try new things. She was multi-orgasmic – as are most women -- and she let the whole world know it when she came. Her husband, she'd said, had been a 'once a week man' who climbed on did his business and climbed off. "I went a bit wild after we divorced," she confessed to me. "I had a stable of stupid studs who were only interested in my pussy. Of course, that was fine with me, since all I wanted was their dicks." Oh, that was another thing, Wendy was plain spoken. In bed or out, she called a spade a spade. Sailors could have taken lessons from her.

Anyway, after we'd been seeing each other regularly for half a year, she consented to marry me when I asked. At our wedding I met Denise and Tom, Wendy's kids. They seemed accepting of me, a fact that was confirmed when Tom took me aside to say he was relieved his mother had finally settled down again. I got the impression his mother's divorcee behavior embarrassed him. Tom was – and still is – an architect in San Francisco. He was unmarried at the time. Denise was married and a junior partner in an advertising firm in Chicago.

Denise, though not Wendy's biological daughter, behaved as if she was. By that I mean her gestures, expressions, and bearing (and swearing) were echoes of Wendy's. Nurture won out over nature in her case I guess, since Wendy had raised her from the age of five. Physically Denise resembled Wendy not at all. Where Wendy had dark hair and olive complexion, Denise was fair and blonde. Where Wendy was pleasantly plump, Denise was only a little bit broad from hips to knee. Otherwise she was slender with small breasts.

Actually, Denise's magnificent ass and her strong thighs were attractive to me. I guess she had what used to be called (in a complimentary sense) a 'pear shaped' figure. Narrow from shoulder to waist, then widening where her torso met her hips. Where her hips met her thighs there was a slight, inward angular break that I have always admired in a woman. At the reception my eyes kept scanning the crowd in the hope of catching her facing away from me so I could gaze at that ass. Oh, don't get me wrong, I paid mucho attention to my bride and she wasn't neglected. But even when Wendy and I danced, I would rotate us around to try and find my new stepdaughter.

Okay, so you get the idea by now. This has to be a story about something happening between Denise and me. You're right. Just after our third anniversary, two things happened almost simultaneously. The first was that Denise caught her husband in bed with his friend and bisexual racquetball buddy. She told me later that she might not have minded if he had asked her to invite Jonas into their bed, but as it was, it was as bad as catching him cheating with another woman. "Hell, it probably would have turned me on to watch them suck each other's cock, as long as I got in on it too," was how she put it.

The second thing that happened to change things was that her boss got caught in a securities fraud case. The Feds brought him up on charges and she was suddenly out of a job when they seized the assets and locked the doors. Denise was cleared of any malfeasance. Wendy told her to come and stay with us until she found something else. Denise gladly accepted and sold her Chicago condo.

Naturally, I went with Wendy to pick Denise up at the airport in Phoenix. It was December and Denise was dressed for Chicago. The first thing she did was to drag Wendy into a restroom to change clothes for the 75 degree weather while I went to claim her bags. "I tied a purple ribbon to each handle, Frank," she told me, handing me her ticket folder. Even though the thought crossed my mind that I'd rather watch her change, I went down to baggage claim.

I'd pulled two of the three bags off the carousel by the time they joined me. For us locals, it was winter. Most folks wore long pants, but Denise had changed to shorts and a tank top (sans bra, I noticed). We got the last bag and eventually reached home. Though we'd seen her a few times since the wedding, this was the first time Denise had visited our new house. We lived in Apache Junction, away from the city, and on a rare three acre piece of expensive real estate. Wendy and I had hired an architect to build our home to order and it was perfect. Surrounded by our property and a selection of trees and bushes, the house was a very private place. We had a fence around the whole place and a stone wall around our home and yards.

Of course we had a pool. When Denise arrived, however, she was disappointed to find it empty. We did maintain an eight person spa over the winter, however. Wendy and I never wore suits when we used it, but I told her I'd deign to put on the trunks I usually wore when we had company (some friends weren't concerned with nudity and we had nude parties too). "Bullshit!" she said. "She's family! We're more comfortable naked, so she can either get used to it or stay in her room."

"Well, you do realize how attractive she is, don't you?" I asked. "What if I pop a hard on when we're in the tub?"

"I don't care," Wendy chuckled. "At least she'll see what a real man looks like after being married to that wimp she divorced."

"Hmm..." I said. I was more worried about what it might lead to, other than being seen naked by Denise. I wasn't sure I could control myself.

.... There is more of this story ...

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