Chapter 1: Discussion Promotes New Intimacy ... With Others
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Group Sex, Polygamy/Polyamory,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: Discussion Promotes New Intimacy ... With Others - Most Saturday mornings Stacy and Jim pose discussion questions to each other about relationships, sex, family life, and the values they hold. Over time their talks reshape their marriage and family, their relationships with friends and neighbors, and how open they are with others including sexually. Build up, and then parts with much sex.
"Do you ever think you could share me with another man or woman?"
The question nearly stopped me in my tracks, and I physically and mentally froze. Stacy had a knack for asking tough questions that kept us always talking about interesting aspects of our twelve-year old marriage. Sometimes we'd go for a couple of months with no questions or discussions, and then she'd throw me a curve ball of some kind. After that, we'd have rich questions and long discussions every Saturday morning for a year.
Shortly before we got married the questions were about marriage and children. What would we be like as a couple now and later in life? Would we have kids? How many? What sex? What would I be like as a father? How would I be different from my father or hers? What if we had an autistic child? They were deep questions, and we talked for weeks about our responses to some of them.
Later, after we were wed and when she was getting into her pregnancy, the questions dealt with how I'd be in a sexless marriage or relationship? Why? Because we were about to hit that phase of pregnancy and post-delivery when intercourse was not an option. Oh, Stacy made it up to me in other ways, but for the most part I just cooled my jets and frequented the porn sites on the Internet, sometimes with her looking over my shoulder and egging me on or even helping with a handjob.
Another time, she asked me if I ever had the hots for her sister, Debbie. I admitted that I did, but that I also had no intention of being anything other than a gentleman in her presence. There were also test questions from time to time on Kate, Tina, Lisa, and a few other beautiful women in our neighborhood. I always gave the same response, and I meant it; I had no intention of straying or putting our marriage at risk.
My answer to this week's hypothetical question about sharing her came to mind after a moment of thought. "Stacy, I love you with all my heart. If the only way I could have you in my life was to share you with someone, I guess I'd have to share you. In return, I think I'd have to know that you felt the same way about me."
Stacy nodded affirmatively, "Good answer." She turned and started to prepare lunch for the two of us and our two kids both of whom were raising some kind of hell in the living room by throwing Lego blocks at each other.
After stopping the Lego War, I returned to the kitchen. Stacy smiled, "Follow up question, if I may. Could you love more than one person at a time, and if so, how many?"
I frowned. "I love you, and I love Megan and Chris; so there's three. I love my parents and your parents; that makes seven in total. I love Deb; so a total of eight." I paused, "I think that's enough."
She said, "You saw one episode of Sister Wives a year or so ago with me. Remember that show?"
"Yes, vaguely," I said carefully. I sensed a trap here some place; as in many of our discussions, the landscape could get rocky here and there, and Stacy was not above occasionally trying to get me in a bind just to push my buttons.
"Well, there was one guy and he had four wives ... or was it five. They had over fifteen children, I think, but I'm just talking about the guy and the plural relationships."
I responded, "Then I guess it's just you, babe."
Stacy nodded. "So, it's about being sexually exclusive."
I laughed, "Well, I've never thought of having sex with anybody else I named other than you."
"Deb?" She teased.
"Well, you bring that up every now and then in the heat of our passion. It's a nice fantasy now and then, but I love you."
At that point, Megan and Chris thundered into the kitchen like two freight trains only noisier. Megan was ten and her brother Chris nine; I'd reached the conclusion that kids that age did nothing in a quiet way except sleep. After they sat, the whole discussion went towards what they needed to do that Saturday afternoon.
These deep discussions seemed to be reserved for Saturdays when the kids weren't around, or were occupied elsewhere in the house. We both tended to be too tired for intellectual games after work, but now and again there'd be a teaser of what to expect on Saturday morning.
The following Saturday, after breakfast, Stacy hit me with another of her deep questions: "Do you love me conditionally or unconditionally?"
She went on, "Well, if you love me conditionally, it's like an 'if-then' statement in a computer program. If she does this, I love her. If she doesn't, I don't or won't love her. You could also carry it in the negative too. If she does this, I won't love her. If she doesn't do this, I won't love her. All that's conditional. In unconditional love, you just love me regardless of what I do or don't do. Got it?"
"Yeah, I think so." I thought for a moment. I was the kind of person that needed some serious think time on deep intellectual questions like these. The more personal and decisive they became, the longer I needed to cogitate on them, sometimes even days. Long ago we'd agreed to be totally honest with each other about any of this stuff.
I got up and moved around the kitchen, getting a third cup of coffee. I closed up my laptop where I'd been catching up on email.
I responded slowly. "I know you respect me. If you didn't respect me, I would feel it difficult to love you. We don't agree on a lot of stuff. Heck, we back different political parties half the time. Nonetheless, we both respect each other's views and the right to have those opinions. I guess that means that my love is sort of conditional."
She said, "So, back to last week's question; say I could love you and someone else, and I respected both of you to the max. Could you still love me in return?" There was both a teasing tone and a serious question there.
"I'd have to think whether you splitting your time with some other guy was disrespectful. I might decide it was."
"Because you were jealous?"
"You know I have a delicate ego. Thank you for always honoring my weakness and not berating me in ways that are ego damaging."
Just then there was a knock on the door. Stacy answered it, let in two more nine year olds, and aimed them into the living room. The noise level rose about thirty decibels, and discussion ceased for the moment.
I stewed about the conditional love question and the jealousy question during the week. The following Saturday we again had a discussion window open up after breakfast.
Before she could pose a question, I took the initiative, "Stacy, I didn't get to give you a very good answer last weekend about your question. In part, I have trouble thinking what it would be like to have another male sniffing around after you. Yes, I'd probably be jealous. I love you, and don't want to lose you."
Stacy said, "What if you knew and could trust that you wouldn't lose me?"
"Would I still feel jealous? Probably."
"You know that jealousy is a learned response?"
"How's that?" I asked.
Stacy said, "Well, there are different types of jealousy. You addressed one: fear of losing something, in this case me. There's also the type where you covet something that someone else has – I guess that's called envy too. For instance, our neighbors Bob and Kate are very well off, and I know you'd love to have a Porsche like he's got."
She paused to be sure I was listening. "Then there's what I might call dominance jealousy. This might be where you want to be everything to me, and not have anybody else helping in any way with my growth or happiness. In this situation, if you see me enjoying myself, and you're not the cause of that, then you get ripped."
Stacy looked at me as though I was expected to respond.
I started slowly, "OK. I'm afraid of losing you, but having you continually tell me you love me and so on makes that pretty moot. Your second kind of jealousy, about things, isn't something I think about a lot. Sure, I wish we had more money, but we're doing just fine, and I feel self-actualized in what I do for work and that I'm contributing, so I don't feel much of that kind.
"On your third kind of jealousy, I wish I could be everything to you, but that's totally unrealistic. We both have our circles of work friends and colleagues, and they all contribute to our growth and development in some way. They all give us fresh ideas. I wouldn't want to take that away from you by locking you up in some dungeon."
Stacy smiled, "The last part is called 'compersion.' Some people say it's the opposite of jealousy. You get joy and a jolt of happiness seeing me interact with someone else in a way that you know makes me fulfilled or that helps me have some kind of new experience."
I thought about that, "I like that concept. Compersion. Good."
Stacy teased and I should have been able to tell from her tone of voice, "So, if I have a girlfriend I get a lot of joy spending time with, and you know that person brings me great experiences and that we share a lot, you'd feel really good about that?"
I allowed, "Compersion comes into play. True. I would feel joy that you were having fun with her."
Stacy threw me a real curve ball then, "What if it was a guy?"
I balked, and Stacy laughed, inferring a 'Gotcha.' I had to admit that I walked right into that subtle bear trap.
I laughed finally, "I ... I don't know how to answer that honestly. This goes back to fear of losing you, and even what we talked about regarding conditional love and respect."
Stacy teased, "Would you like to do a little experiment?"
With great caution in my voice I said, "Like what? Am I going to like this?"
"I don't know whether you'll like it, but you can consider it a test of many of the principles we've recently talked about."
"What's the experiment?"
"There's a nice guy at work who lives near here. We work together, and have been looking for an opportunity to have a cup of coffee together. What if I called him up and suggested we meet down at the diner to have a cup of coffee and talk, maybe even have lunch?"
For some reason, I felt that I had to be magnanimous. "Good idea. Call him. Set it up."
Stacy smiled, "You won't mind babysitting the monsters for a couple of hours without me."
"I'll do fine."
Ten minutes later, I heard one side of a phone call from the next room. 'John, this is Stacy Cooper ... fine ... I don't know whether I'm interrupting your day, but I have a couple of hours free ... yes ... I was hoping we might meet for coffee down at the diner ... half an hour ... great ... see you there.'
Although the diner was only ten minutes away, Stacy spent the next twenty minutes getting dressed and making sure her makeup was just perfect. I watched, and we chatted about a birthday party Chris had to go to, and a play date down the street for Megan. Even as we did this, I got to thinking 'My wife is going out on a date. Holy shit!'
Stacy bounded out of the house, and was away before I thought much more about it.
I had developed some expectations that she'd only be an hour, so as time went on, I developed some rather far-fetched ideas of what she and this John character might be doing. After all, he didn't live that far away either. They could have gone back to his place to do lord knows what. I could feel the various aspects of jealousy rising in my bile.
After she'd been gone an hour-and-a-half, I took out a piece of paper. I wrote down the emotions I could get in touch with that were worrying me.
Fear of loss – Stacy says she loves me and will never leave me.
Possessiveness – I can't possess another person. I can love them, but not own them.
Compersion – I hope she's having fun with John. Do I? Yes, I wouldn't take that away from her; she likes him.
Trust – I trust her not to do something that disrespects me.
Self-Doubt – I don't like having dark feelings. Why do I let them dominate me?
Self-Confidence – If anything happened, I would land on both feet: older, wiser.
Worry about past – did I do enough to earn Stacy's love?
Worry about future – will she come home and still love me?
After I wrote all that shit down, I tucked away the piece of paper in a kitchen drawer and made lunch for the kids, who had told me in no uncertain terms that they were hungry and deserving.
Stacy had left at ten-thirty. She got home at one-thirty. Three hours.
I put on my brave face and smiled as she came in the door. She saw me; "Hey, can you come and help me with groceries from the back of my car?"
As I went out, she said, "I also got a case of wine at the liquor store. That's in the back."
She had well over two hundred dollars worth of food. She'd done all the weekend shopping; an activity that had to have taken well over an hour, and even longer since she also drove out to our favorite wine store. That meant that about the time I had started to panic, she was saying goodbye to her male friend and heading off to shop.
I mentally beat myself up as I lugged bag after bag of groceries into the kitchen from the garage. I lugged the case of wine in too, and put that in our pantry. I was a big schmuck. I hadn't trusted her. I jumped to conclusions. I'd made assumptions about her activities and her return time that were just wrong. I learned a valuable lesson.
I finally asked, "Have fun with your friend?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. We spent a little over an hour, and then he had to run. My cheeks hurt from laughing with him. He has a great sense of humor – lots of funny sarcasm. You'd like him."
"Bring him round for dinner or lunch or something," I blurted out, without thinking too hard about the situation. I was trying to be completely nonchalant and act as though I'd barely noticed her absence.
Had we not been having the kinds of discussions we'd had, I probably wouldn't have noticed her absence. Further, she told me who she was seeing and when. What she didn't tell me was that she was going to do the shopping; an activity one of us usually did for a few hours on Saturday. I beat myself up some more for my evil thinking.
The children went off to their grandparent's home for dinner and a sleepover that evening. I drove them over and dropped them off, saying hello to my parents in the process.
When I got home, Stacy had a plate of cheese and two wine glasses out. She said, "Grab a glass and the bottle and come in the living room. Dinner won't be for another forty minutes."
As we sat down next to each other, we both savored our first sip of wine.
Stacy looked at me and smiled. "When I went to see John, you were worried about me, weren't you?"
"I was cool," I lied.
"Then what's this?" Stacy laid out the sheet of notepaper I'd made my emotional list on. She turned it so I could re-read what I'd written just before noon.
"I lied. I wasn't cool." I then clarified, "Well, I was cool for an hour, and then the expectations that you'd come back didn't materialize, so I started to worry and make up stories."
Stacy leaned in and kissed me. "I love you more than life itself. I would never leave you. You'd better get used to the idea that I'm your sidekick until one of us kicks the bucket, and even then I can't promise I won't haunt you if I go first." She smiled.
She said, "Can we talk about what you wrote and felt?"
"If you want." I was really embarrassed by the list and what I'd allowed my mind to contemplate. I told her that, but she pointed at the piece of paper.
I glanced at the first item, "OK. I need to trust more that what you say is what you mean. When you say you love me and will never leave, I need the self-confidence and faith to believe that. When you tested that, I suddenly felt all wishy-washy about my standing in your life."
I went on, "I really did hope you were having fun with John, but I worried about the kind of fun."
"Did you think I might go back to his condo and screw his brains out?" She teased.
"It was a possibility," I allowed. "A dark thought."
"You're right, that would disrespect you unless you were part of the scene or had a role in setting up that situation. I wouldn't do anything like that otherwise."
Stacy said, "About your last couple of points. You have made me feel very loved and desired. I count my blessings that you want me in your life. Don't worry about the past or the future. This is my home, here with you. Live in the Now." She gestured around us.
"I'm trying," I said. "A moment ago you said you wouldn't do anything like that otherwise. What did you mean?"
Stacy swallowed hard. "I wouldn't have an affair without you knowing what was going on and sanctioning it."
"Do you want an affair with someone? With John?"
Stacy thought for a full minute, and I guess I found one interesting answer in her long silence. "Let me go back to some of our questions, and in that is my answer. I believe I can love more than one person at a time. I believe I can handle my own jealousy around a situation like that, and I would hope you would let me help you do the same." She paused, "I think I come closer to unconditional love of you than you think."
Stacy locked eyes with me, "If I found someone I loved, I would like to spend time and be with them in the full depth of a relationship, just as I am with you. Would that mean having sex with them? Probably. I see our relationship as a multi-dimensional triad of mind, body, and spirit. I would see other love relationships that way too. Would it take anything away from you? No."
She summarized, "So, do I want an affair? Yes. I want all the love I can muster in my life. I want it from you and everybody I might love. Do I want an affair with John? It's way too early in our friendship to even think about that. It's a possibility, but nothing is on the horizon right now. He's just a friend and a nice man."
"Thank you for your honest answer." I drank some of my wine and stared across the room, as I let Stacy's remarks sink in.
I finally asked, "What if I didn't want you to be with John or some other guy?"
Stacy shrugged. "Then I guess it wouldn't happen."
I nodded. I thought she was right. Everything she'd said had led to this discussion and these answers.
The rest of the summer we had running discussions about a whole variety of topics: sexual equality, role flexibility, identity, being your authentic self, realistic expectations, and being open to the world versus closed to new experiences. Every now and then sex would come up in some context.
Stacy and I were both learning from our discussions, and even though we'd been married for twelve years I felt we were growing closer to each other.
We'd had an active sex life except for the two times around childbirth. I'd read where the average husband-wife had sex twice a week. Back then, we were batting at twice that rate, but over time we'd slowed to the average, and sometimes that was hard to achieve.
We often teased each other about sex in some way, but Stacy had more resources to do that than I did. She was good-looking, shapely, busty, and vivacious. Once in a while she'd let me discover that she was commando, and if the kids weren't around, I might even bend her over a convenient piece of furniture or a kitchen table, and have my way with her. Of course, she was also having her way with me too.
Stacy was also multi-orgasmic; a fact that always stroked my ego when I could bring her off multiple times in one of our passionate sessions. Just about everything I did to her could bring her to some kind of peak. She loved it, and so did I.
When we talked about sexual equality, it wasn't just female versus male roles, or the tendency of most societies towards male dominance. In our family we were pretty equal. We both had a voice in the serious family decisions around finances, raising the kids, and so on.
That also carried over into initiating sex. We'd tried to create a rule where an offer would never be turned down. That also put a responsibility on the asking party to be sensitive to his or her spouse's mood and readiness. For the most part, we were always ready.
To improve the spontaneity of our lovemaking, I finally got a vasectomy. That took a week to recover from the surgery, and a month to be sure the plumbing had been thoroughly flushed of any little swimmers that might create a mid-life surprise.
During the summer months we saved some money by having a couple of 'staycations' instead of traveling anywhere. We had decided that we wanted to buy a lakefront cabin somewhere, so we set up a special account where we started to squirrel away money to make that purchase. On some of our day-trip staycations, we'd drive up in the nearby mountains to look at property. We wanted something that was only two or three hours away from our home.
One consequence of the staycations was that we started to socialize with the neighbors. We knew everyone casually, but we started to host Saturday barbeques or Friday evening wine and cheese parties almost every weekend. We had a beautiful back yard, compliments of yours truly a few years earlier, and a deck that overlooked a picturesque brook running through our property. I'd also done some wonders with landscape lighting. Additionally, we had some great outside furniture that was very comfortable.
Thus, in early August, I meet John for the first time. With my concurrence, Stacy invited about ten people for what she called 'heavy' hors d'oeuvres. There'd be no meal, but by the time you sampled everything once or twice you wouldn't be hungry.
In addition to John, Stacy's sister Deb was there, along with Steve, another colleague of Stacy's; Brenda, my cute secretary; Matt, a single neighbor; Lisa, another single neighbor; plus neighbors Mike and Tina, and Bob and Kate.
We got quite comfortable with each other in a short period of time, plus we were running through wine at a rapid rate. There was almost magical chemistry between everyone. Stacy came up to me at one point. "Jim, let's put on some dance music. Please dance with my sister and certainly Brenda. Give them both some romance; they're needy right now."
As I nodded at her idea, she added in a taunt, "I'll be romancing some of the other men." I brushed off her comment, but knew she was serious. Inside, I rolled my eyes; I was getting another test of my self-confidence and so on. We'd even had that discussion again only two weeks earlier.
My wife's sister Deb was always needy, plus she had a 'thing' for me. We knew that she'd been miffed that I didn't ask her out first when I first met the two sisters years earlier at another party. Brenda was another story; she'd broken up with a long-term boyfriend about four months earlier, and had practically sworn off men. I had detected a recent thaw, but there was no one at the ready.
Brenda deserved the title 'cute.' She was petite, but stacked, and in her mid-twenties. She had a very feminine voice, and bubbled with enthusiasm about life and the people in her life – well, except for her ex-boyfriend.
I put on a dance playlist I'd assembled months earlier. It started with a nice mix of fast and slow songs, but the number of romantic slow songs slowly rose as the six-hour mix of songs played.
I grabbed Deb as she was passing by me, and pulled her into the dance area on the deck. We did a little boogie to a classic rock song, and then as a slow number started, Deb flowed into my arms.
I liked Deb, but had spent over a decade fending off her blatant advances. For some reason that night, I felt more inspired to humor her affection. She cuddled into me for the dance, and I wrapped my arms around her.
Deb whispered to me, "I love you, you know. I wish you loved me."
"Deb, I do love you." I kissed her temple, and gave her a little squeeze.
"That makes me feel sooooo good." After a while she whispered, "Can you tell I'm not wearing a bra? I did that just for you. I want you to feel one of my breasts." We had our hands tucked in tightly together as we danced close, but she took my left hand and brought it to her right breast. I could instantly feel the aroused nipple on the full breast, about the same size as her sister's. I didn't pull away, and I kept kneading her mammary, and Deb started to audibly purr. I checked around, and no one was watching us particularly. I turned us so our illicit act wasn't as visible should anyone glance our way.
Eventually, I said, "Deb, this is dangerous. Stacy won't like it."
Her next statement shocked me a little; "Stacy is the one who suggested I lose my bra before I danced with you. She took hers off too."
I looked around the deck to where Stacy was dancing with John. Sure enough, she had his hand tucked to her chest. He was feeling her up too.
Instead of reacting in a negative way, I instantly thought of the word 'compersion' that we'd talked about earlier in the summer and more recently in other discussions. I hoped she was having a nice time with John.
As I glanced a second time, Stacy saw me and blew me a kiss. She didn't stop John's hand from kneading her luscious breast. For that matter, I kept my hand on Deb's soft mound too. I wondered where this train was going.
A fast song came on, and I pleaded the need for another drink, so Deb and I went separate ways.
Brenda was at the bar, so I prepared a wine cooler for her. I gave myself some watered down wine by adding ice to it. A few moments later, Brenda and I were dancing and working up a sweat. We went through three fast songs, before a slow song came on.
Brenda indicated she wanted to dance some more so I went to hold her in a more formal stance, but she shook free of my 'Dance Lesson 101' form, and snuggled into my chest the same way Deb had, and the same way Stacy was now dancing with Steve. Vertical cuddling, or making out, is the best way to describe it.
Brenda pulled my head down to hers and kissed me on the lips. We'd never had anything close to an intimate moment before. I was the ultimate professional at work; this was entirely different. My head went into a spin.
Brenda eventually whispered to me, "I wish you'd put your hands on my breasts the way you did with your wife's sister. I want you to feel me up too." She pushed her breasts into my chest by way of invitation. This was a hard message to miss.
"Are you sure? I don't want to..."
Brenda laughed, "Don't worry. Relax. I'm not going to slap a sexual harassment suit on you. I want you feel my tits; now do it, please. You can even put your hand under my top. My bra is not very thick, and I'd love to have you touch my bare tits."
"And on Monday?"
Brenda said, "On Monday, I'll be having pleasant memories about this party, and we'll both be consummate professionals as though nothing worth mentioning happened."
I did just what she asked. I danced us to the edge of the dance floor nearest where the deck dropped off in the darkness, and slipped my left hand under Brenda's top. She had spectacular breasts, and I recalled that being one factor in why I'd hired her. I'd been pleasantly surprised to find out she also had a whole raft of top-notch secretarial skills. I was a bad boy.
The music ended, and another fast number started. Brenda and I kissed, and then broke apart to go and pick up our wine glasses.
Stacy caught up with me about then. "Are we cool?" she asked. She took my arm and pulled me to her for a kiss.
I chuckled, "Because you let two guys feel your magnificent tits? Yes, we're cool. I admit I got a bit of shock when I first figured out what was happening, but I liked watching you with another man – actually men. Please don't worry; I'm fine."
I paused and added, "I need to confess to feeling up your sister and Brenda too, but at their invitation."
Stacy laughed, "I didn't 'let' the men feel me; I insisted on it. I feel like a slut at a junior high dance." She laughed gaily.
We kissed each other, and went off to join others.
A half-hour later, I was dancing a slow number with Tina, and she steered us into that dark spot on the deck. She then openly put my hand under her loose top and on her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra and I could feel her nipple harden into a rigid little nubbin under my palm.
I muttered, "What about Mike?"
Tina leaned up and kissed me. "Well, Lover, he's loving your wife right now. This is not a revenge move; I really like you and want greater intimacy with you. This is tame compared to what I'd like to be doing."
Although my heart was beating terribly fast, I enjoyed the feel of Tina.
Before the end of the party, I'd felt each woman's breasts, including my own wife's. Of course, with Stacy I could be a little more of an exhibitionist. By then, I also saw John and Brenda in a colossal make out session; he was feeling a lot more than just her breasts and she had one hand inside his pants.
After everyone left, Stacy and I made a modest attempt at putting away the leftovers, and dealing with the remnants of the party. We reached a point where we just stopped and decided to leave the rest until the next morning.
A few minutes later, we were fucking like squirrels in the city park. More than that, we were outside on the deck on one of the chaises, enjoying the cool evening air as we worked up a sweat.
Shortly after I blasted a load of cum into Stacy, we heard a female voice snicker and a male voice cough. Stacy froze, and then laughed. There was no way we could hide. There wasn't anything within reach larger than a used cocktail napkin to cover us.
I turned slightly, "Who's there?" My cock was still buried in Stacy's pussy.
John's voice came from the darkness, "John and Brenda. We've been making out in my car in front of your house. We came back here to get her purse, and I sort of thought we might do what you just did."
Brenda said, "I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, but I thought you'd have gone to bed."
Stacy laughed, "Nooooooo. We had other plans." She waved an arm around me and pointed at the other chaise. "Make love over there. I want to watch. Jim wants to watch too."
Brenda said with some eagerness, "OK." She looked at John and nodded, pulling him to the chaise.
The two of them were naked in seconds. Brenda told us, "We're way past the foreplay stage; we did all that here and in the car. We just need a soft place to fuck. This chaise is perfect."
Brenda lay back, and John knelt in front of her. He buried his head in her pussy, and started to lap and suck on everything in the area.
Seeing my hot little secretary naked had restored my vitality, and I hadn't even left Stacy's pussy. I was back to having a hard-on that rated 'ten' on my ten-point hardness scale. Stacy pumped a little into me to indicate that we should have a second round as we watched our colleagues.
John eventually buried his cock in Brenda, but in a way where we could watch him piston in and out of her body. I was vicariously fucking my secretary as I watched him pump into her.
The live porn was too much for me. I came a second time in Stacy's cunt after about five minutes. Apparently, our antics helped trigger the two of them, because they soon finished as well, making little noises of completion and satisfaction.
Stacy and I stood, a move that resulted in a gush of my fluid down one of her legs. She said, "I think we'll go to bed now. You two can stay here as long as you want. We'll leave the door open if you want to cuddle up on the family room sofa. There's a blanket there too. You can sleep over if you want. Goodnight."
I made goodnight noises too as I tried to act casual about our nudity. We picked up our clothes and went inside, both of us naked and satisfied. I was still horny, and I realized that I really wanted to fuck Brenda sometime. I tried to push those images and that naughty thought out of my head without much success.
I wondered if Stacy had similar thoughts about John and his cock. Did she want to get fucked by him? They'd gotten to know each other much better than that time she went out for coffee with him – and then there was Steve who she also liked.