I must thank my proofreader (co-author perhaps) Kkitty. She was midwife to this story and helped in far more that grammer and spelling.
Preface: Some of you may have read my second story to the newsgroup entitled: "Down the Aisle." It was a self indulgent recounting of a favorite masturbatory fantasy. I received both positive and negative feedback. Both positives were short, but appreciated. The negative was polite and detailed enough that I hope to improve in this continuation of the same story.
I was even reviewed in a Celestial Review. How's that for coming up in the world? Thank you to those who bothered to provide constructive criticism. I hope any negative opinion of the previous story doesn't keep you from reading this one (and maybe responding again). I always appreciate constructive feedback, even if I'm not smart enough to keep from ignoring some of it.
The characters in this story are based on people that really existed, but their names have been changed. The personalities are modified as well, but hopefully believable.
A short synopsis of the previous story, of which this is the continuation: I inherited a small fortune from an uncle, not enough to live lavishly, but more than enough to be very comfortable, if I were willing to work as well. My fiance at the time of the last story, now my wife, prefers to be called Tawny (like a kitten). I manipulated her into agreeing to five promises prior to our marriage: one - she would dress to please me when requested; two - she would keep her pubic hair shaved to please me, when requested; three - like the "Story of O" she would agree to wear my marks and rings without knowing what or where they would be placed (they turned out to be the piercing and subsequent placing of rings in her earlobes, nipples, navel, clitoral hood, and six rings in her labia); four - she would allow no one but me to have anal sex with her; and five - she would swallow my ejaculations, whenever requested. She agreed to all of these conditions and we were subsequently married. On her own initiative she had herself tattooed (two small hearts, one on each buttcheek, with my initials in one heart and hers in the other) right where I usually placed my thumbs to spread her cheeks for anal penetration. During our two year engagement, she underwent several cosmetic surgeries (caps on her teeth, some liposuction and significant breast enhancement). I looked forward to life with my ideal woman. Like all fantasies, however, it was pretty one sided. Therein lies this tale. Timewise we rejoin the story about three years after her first promises.
At last, for those who are reading this with their mouse in their non-dominant hand... "On with the story!"
Chapter the First
Wendy arrives but doesn't cometh, yet.
My wife was very sexually responsive this evening. Unfortunately, that was not the norm, lately. From having been such an incredible fuck, as recently as a year ago, she had become less and less enthusiastic in bed. I was having some of the best sex of my life, but it just didn't seem to be as good for her. I was starting to feel that even though her body was involved (and it's a great body), maybe her head and her heart weren't always involved. Before we were married, she had been an insatiable little squirt bunny. I was totally clueless about what could be wrong. In all honesty, my brain tends to focus about midway between my navel and my knees, so I hadn't been giving the problem as much consideration as it probably deserved.
Tonight, though, she was back to her old self. She had invited me into the shower after supper. We had a great time, soaping and rinsing every little thing and she started a terrific blowjob under the shower (glad she didn't drown), which segued into a sixty-nine when we got back to the bedroom. Her pussy was freshly shaved and her rings were present in her ears, her nipples, her navel, her labia, and her clitoral hood. I thought she looked really sexy and I can tell you she tasted great.
In retrospect, if I had any concern about pleasuring her, it was an ongoing one with the ring in her clitoral hood. Sometimes she would come almost immediately with just a small amount of careful play and sometimes repeatedly and other times she wouldn't want me to even touch it. I could never figure out what and when to do it or not to do it. Anyway, it didn't seem to be a problem this evening. And as far as my pleasure was concerned, she was doing everything I could have asked. Her tongue would create delicious friction on my glans, at the top of a stroke. She was taking me almost to the pubic hairs on the down stroke. I prefer the tongue action on the frenulum, that area just under the outlet in a penis I was doing what I could for her. She wasn't complaining, although typically I would have to do something really painful, before she complained. I think she even orgasmed during our sixty-nine. I was pretty close to getting off myself, when she announced that she needed: "a cock up my cunt. And here's a nice one."
We rolled around for a bit, but she wound up on top and rode me for a good ten minutes. Her actions would have made a belly dancer jealous. If we could have tied jars of cream to her hips, we would have had butter before she was done. The best part of it was that we would have had use for it. She was puffing hard when she collapsed on my chest and, after some heavy breathing, announced: "Your turn, lover... Woof! Woof!"
Now she knows doggy style is my favorite and she knows I'll happily plow her nether orifices for as long as I'm able. We were engaged in my favorite kind of sex, where we both get good and sweaty and move from one position to another and from one orifice to another. She positioned herself on her hands and knees and arched her back as I entered her. Her mouth was hanging open and she managed to groan: "Oh shit, I do love this!" She fucked back to me and we met half way on some slow and languorous strokes. Her pussy was just incredible that night. Mixed with my saliva and her abundant juices, it was super slippery. It held my penis with that warm tightness that a man longs to come back to again and again. After about several minutes of stroking low in her channel to get the maximum clitoral stimulation, she looked back at me and said: "Okay, you drive for a while!" I pummeled her thighs with mine as I gave her the best fucking I could. I kept it up until my stomach muscles were sore, and I was dripping with sweat, which actually didn't take all that long. She had been riding that pleasure-pain edge, sometimes yelling for me to slow down and then sometimes, I guess it was okay. Not being able to keep up the pace, I slowed down and played my thumb over her anus. She rubbed herself back against my thumb and rotated her hips around my penis. Just playing with her anus, while I'm filling her vagina will send me over the edge on many a night. Tonight, I was definitely dealing with a delayed orgasm. To give myself more of a break, I slowed my fucking motions to a stop and asked: "Did you come, yet?" How am I supposed to know, I want it to be good for her, too, right?. She looked over her shoulder at me to say: "Don't worry about me, I'm okay." And then she came up with the kind of question that will keep me married to her no matter what happens. She asked: "So... you wanna come... in my mouth or... do you wanna come in my ass?" I assured her that deep inside her rectum would be my choice, thank you very much, although I almost came just from hearing her ask. I think it is just incredibly sexy when a women offers her man a sexual choice like that.
Tawny dropped from supporting her upper body on her hands to a position where her shoulders were on the mattress. She spread her legs more widely and began massaging her labia with one hand. I made a quick poke of my penis into a jar of anal lube we keep in a bedside drawer, and massaged the excess into her anus and the surrounding area. With my penis glistening with lube, I placed my thumbs on the tattoos with our initials, which she wears on her buttocks. My wife definitely knows my sexual preferences. As a wedding gift to me, she had tattoos placed right where I like to put my thumbs to spread her for just this sort of penetration. Keeping her buttocks spread, I slid my penis up and down the crack of her ass until I was right on target. She closed her eyes and grimaced slightly as I applied pressure with the head of my penis against her anus. Ali Baba had his open Sesame that opened the doors to the treasure trove for him. I spoke the magic phrase that seems to open my wife's back door to me: "I love you, Honey!" as I felt her sphincter give way to my pressure. From years of experience she knows how to relax, so that the pain of anal penetration is minimized, but I have always tried to let her set the pace for anal intercourse.
As I sheathed myself completely in her rectum, her response came out as: "Ughhhhh... I love you... huuuh!... too. Hoooo!" Her hand became more active around her pussy as I slowly held station with the length of my penis fully embedded in her most intimate orifice. I waited patiently until she said " Oh shit... OK... fuck me now..., but take it real slow." I started to slowly sodomize her, loving every moment of it, but I wasn't fated to enjoy this part of our playtime for very long. I came in less than a minute as she started in with remarks like: "Oh, Yeah, fuck my ass... Oh Yeah!... C'mon, give me your come... I want your come in my ass! Oh, yeah!... Fuck me!" Each exclamation was given on my instroke and I could actually feel her tighten her sphincter as I pulled outward. A few graphic remarks accompanied by the exquisite tightness of her sphincter muscle and the hot oily velvet glove feeling of her rectum had me blowing my load into her guts in no time. I pumped as long as I could, but I quickly became so sensitive that I had to stop.
We rolled over on our sides, still joined. After her muscles slowly ejected me from her shapely rump, we both made use of some Kleenex from her bedside table. We spooned for a short while in that total relaxation that follows intercourse. I think that's my second favorite part of our sexual play. I eventually got up to wash myself and crawled back in to spoon for a while longer. Snuggling up to her rump I nibbled her ear and said something to the effect that I thought she was a terrific lover. I got a quick peck on the cheek in reply and she moved to lie on her back. She looked like she was thinking awful hard about something, and I didn't think it was about how great our lovemaking had been, so I asked: "What's on your mind, lover?"
She rolled to face me and took my hand in hers. "You remember... Wendy?" she said, then she seemed to have trouble getting the rest of the thought out.
Did I remember Wendy? Oh yeah!!! Wendy had been Tawny's maid of honor. Maybe she should have been called matron of honor? I don't know what the right nomenclature is for an unmarried woman (with a two year old kid, possibly her pimp's) as the bridal party's counterpart to the best man. She was also the third leg (while six months pregnant, mind you) of what had to be the most fantastic menage a trois ever to be held in a college dormitory bunk bed, with yours truly as the only male. She had been the lookout for us while I cornholed Tawny, in the church, on our wedding day, only minutes before the ceremony. Yeah, I remembered her real well. I could shut my eyes and picture her easily.
Wendy was definitely no beauty. She had a piggish face and a dishwater blonde mop of hair. She was big boned and overweight, though not particularly tall. She had a sharp and occasionally foul tongue. She may have been bright, but I hadn't really made much of an effort to have any serious conversations with her. She never stayed long in our life, just flitting in and out on rare short occasions. As I remember, from our one and only threesome, she preferred to play with Tawny and I was definitely low priority (really low). However, Wendy certainly inspired Tawny to sexual heights I had never known existed, and as I just happened to be plugged into Tawny's asshole at the time, it was great for me too. Actually I was sort of amazed that Wendy had ever gotten pregnant, but I had never cared enough to ask for the details.
Tawny came out of her funk to say: "Times have pretty hard for Wendy. Juan threw her out and her parents have told her they won't let her back in their house with his kid. She lost her job and she's going to get tossed out of her apartment when she misses the next payment. She doesn't have any money and she doesn't have anywhere to go." Tawny paused and heaved a big sigh. She stared into my shoulder and asked quietly: "Could she move in with us... just for a little while? Please?" I wasn't too wild about the idea of someone sharing our little love nest, particularly with a toddler in tow. I had gotten pretty spoiled about being able to rip off a piece whenever and wherever the mood and the wife were both favorable. But there was that incredible threesome... maybe something good could be made out of this. I hesitated for a few moments longer and said: "Yeah, sure..., for a little while." Tawny gave me a hard fast kiss and murmured: "OK... just for a little while."
Wendy arrived that weekend. She had amazingly little baggage in tow for herself and less for the little guy. You could say she had matching luggage, if that's what you call two plastic garbage bags. We moved her into the back bedroom and, later that week, put up a youth bed for her son. The little guy was pretty well behaved and Tawny seemed to enjoy spending time with her friend.
Chapter the Second
Wendy and I have dinner, and I get chewed out but not eaten until I get home.
Since the first days of our marriage it had been a ritual for Tawny and me to go out for a really nice dinner, once a month, (more often if there were birthdays, holidays, etc.) and then on to a movie or some drinks at the local sports bar. When the day rolled around for our next night out, Tawny informed me that she thought Wendy needed a night out more than she did. She wanted to stay home and get to know Wendy's son a little better. Wendy immediately jumped into the conversation, denying that she had anything to do with this decision and that it would be totally inappropriate for her to ruin Tawny's night on the town. The two of them started in on an almost comical repartee of who should go and who should stay. The only thing I know is that I didn't get a word in edgewise and certainly had no part in the decision making. Somehow, it was decided that Wendy and I would go out to dinner that evening, but come home immediately afterwards. Tawny would stay home to be the baby-sitter. I'm still not sure how the decision was made, but it was an accomplished fact without any input on my part.
Rather than a truly upscale restaurant, we headed for the local sports bar, in deference to Wendy's wardrobe choices (blue jeans, blue jeans, or a short skirt that didn't look real good on thunder thighs). We made some polite talk while we waited for the corner booth to free up. Wendy insisted we had to sit "where we can get some fucking privacy." We didn't talk much during the meal, mostly amusing ourselves with the sports action and trivia questions on the various TV screens. She was putting away more alcohol than food, but who was I to complain. If Tawny had done the same I wouldn't have said anything. When we were both finished, I asked if she would like an after dinner drink and she assured me she would. The dishes disappeared and fresh drinks appeared. Wendy had been sitting opposite me at the table, but she now slid toward me in the booth. She motioned for me to meet her toward the middle of the C-shaped booth. I believe her suggestion was something like: "Come over here, where I don't have to fuckin' shout at you!" I complied, and as we got settled, I asked: "What's up?"
She spoke quickly and as quietly as the roar of the restaurant would allow. "I came here to save your marriage, I hope you know. You're lucky it's hung together at all. If Tawny wasn't so totally in love with you, it wouldn't have lasted six months, you lucky bastard!"
Somewhat taken aback, the best I could get out was: "What do you mean lucky? I suppose you wish she was living with you?"
I had taken a shot in the dark and it was right on the money. She rocked back with her eyes closed for a moment, then she slumped forward to have a pull on her drink. "Your damn right! I wouldn't treat her like shit, like you do. I wouldn't have turned her into some kind of Barbie doll plaything. I love her ass, but you know, as well as I do, that she likes guys more than girls. Somehow she fell in love with you and you've treated her like shit ever since you two got engaged."
"What are you talking about?" I was definitely indignant. "I love Tawny and I've done my best to take care of her."
She gave me a condescending look. "Yeah, right! She went through breast enhancement and liposuction and piercing and tattooing and wearing her gold necklaces like a slave collar and all that shit, but where has it gotten her? We've had some pretty long phone conversations while you were working overtime, you know. She's poured out her heart to me and it's pretty sad."
"Let me hit the highlights for you" she continued. "One: she's stuck in this little town in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere. The only clothes and make up you buy her make her look like a hooker to most of your neighbors. Two: She never gets a night out, unless she's expected to put on a sexual performance when she gets home. Three: She's gone through all that surgery just for you. She's working out three times a week and taking a yoga class, just to look like your idea of a terrific fuck, but you don't lift a finger to take care of your body. Four: it's a good thing you like to eat pussy or I'm pretty sure you wouldn't even bother. You don't waste any time worrying about her pleasure. She's working on taking your cock into her throat without gagging, but you don't even seem to notice. Her cunt is damn near growing cobwebs, because you spend so much time up her ass. Hell, every night it's like it's "SHOWTIME" for you. She's supposed to dress up for you and make herself up for you and take your spew in every hole in her body, every goddam night. It's not love making for her, it's a goddam performance where she's gotta check off each and every one of your wants to make sure she's done them all before she can rest. What do you do for her? You never wear clothes just for her. You don't always take a shower when you expect her to suck you off, but you won't come near her pussy if it isn't freshly washed. And talk about her pussy! What's with this fetish for shaving her pussy. I mean one of these days she isn't going to be able to grow hair down there and it's gonna start turning black down there instead of the cute little pink it is now. I mean she spends way too much time worrying about the condition of her cunt. Shit! She shouldn't have to look like some sort of centerfold all the time. She should be beautiful just the way God made her. And talk about shaving! You don't always shave before you stick your face between her legs. Man, she's sensitive down there! She gets whisker burns that take two days to lose. You are not God's gift to women, no matter what you think. I mean, it's about time you had a little reality check, pal."
She finally ran out of breath and concentration and then tossed down the rest of her drink. I signaled a passing waitress and ordered a refill for her. When we were alone again, I cleared my throat and said: "Geez, I uhh..., I'm sorry I wasn't taking notes. Are you gonna be able to remember that one point at a time?" She nodded and when her eyes focussed on me she said: "Damn right I am!"
"Okay," I said "Let's take it one point at a time after our drinks come." I didn't mention that mine didn't need a refill. Her drink came in jiffy. That's one of the advantages of giving a generous tip to your server before the meal, not afterwards. I believe you should give your server the chance to show how much your tip is appreciated and how much they would like you to come back and do it again. But, I digress. We were pretty much alone again, so I started in with: "Sorry, what was the first point, her clothes?"
"Fucking - A! Like a goddam whore and you don't wear nothing for her." was her next utterance. I very carefully pointed out that Tawny had personally approved each and every purchase from the various catalogs we used. I didn't mention that it just happened that the Land's End catalog seemed to disappear, but the Victoria's Secret and Frederick's of Hollywood were on top of the stack. I did go on to say that if we weren't living in such a conservative little town, no one would even think to criticize her wardrobe. I implied that maybe Wendy was reading more into the situation than was really there. I had never had any complaints from the neighbors and more than one had asked where we got Tawny's outfits. As far as wearing anything for her I was fairly certain that women didn't care about their man's wardrobe. Women were more into the relationship than the physical aspects.
Wendy responded: "You are so full of bullshit, it's no wonder your eyes are brown. There's a shirt at __________'s (a local shop) that gets her juicy just thinking about you in it."
I hadn't even a clue about Tawny's interest in my clothing. "You gotta be kidding. No way!" I said.
"Fucking A, way!" she said. "She would probably swallow your dick and your balls, too, if you were wearing that shirt. Which would be a shame, 'cause it's her pussy that gets all wet when she's excited... that delicious pussy... just going to waste." I inquired about the shirt in question a little further and Wendy maintained that it was a definite turn-on that my wife hadn't gotten around to telling me about. A bargain was struck that we would go shopping tomorrow, I would be allowed to choose clothing for each of them, without their ability to criticize my choices. If I didn't see something I liked, I could order one outfit from a catalog of my choice, with the same freedom. In turn, I would go to the aforementioned men's store with them and be just a willing body to dress as they saw fit. The base rule would be the same for everyone: willing participation and no long faces or martyred looks. Wendy seemed pleased with the idea and I couldn't see anyway that I could lose. Of course, my wife had promised before our wedding that she would dress in the manner that I found most pleasing, whenever I asked, but Wendy might not have known that. I was more than happy to see Tawny get excited about me, regardless of the cause. "Okay, I think we've got this taken care of." I said "What's next on your list of indictments?"
Wendy polished off a large portion of this round before she got to: "Ummmm... she never gets a night out with the girls." I said: "She's never told me she wanted a night out. If she wants out, she can go. Why don't you take her out next Friday. We'll get a baby-sitter for your little guy and we can all meet back at home to compare notes on our evenings. How's that sound? Maybe if she invites some of her friends from the gym or the yoga class you can make it a bigger deal?" Wendy's response was a good thorough belch followed by a "Fucking A! Your on! Next Friday night we're outta there!" Apparently this was worthy of celebration, so we both touched glasses and she finished hers while I had an extended sip.
"So you see" I said, "there's nothing sinister here so far, we just needed to clear some air. Now what's the next problem?" Maybe the restaurant help was more helpful than I thought, because Wendy's next drink seemed to appear out of the air and we were alone again in no time. Wendy focussed her eyes on her drink, then she rotated her head like some mechanical extension to face me and said: "You aren't taking care of your body. She's working out two and three times a week and taking fuckin' yoga, and you don't do shit one to keep yourself in shape. "I had to think about this one for a moment, because it was, unfortunately, quite true. The best I could come up with was: "Well, what if she and I went to the gym once a week, together? We could play racquetball or tennis or... something and have a little more time together. For that matter, while you're here we could all go together. Maybe, we could play some 'cutthroat' in racquetball, or something? You interested in a little threesome, Wendy?"
I had caught her while she was taking another pull on her drink. She actually snorted and had a coughing attack that threatened to summon the restaurant help to our table. If she hadn't been laughing so hard, at the same time, I'm not sure that I wouldn't have been worried about her, too.
When she got control of herself, she said, very quietly: "You know goddam well I'm interested, and we don't need to go to the gym for it either, you fuckin' horn dog, you. Let's drink to that idea... By the way, are you going to drink that drink or just continue to make love to it. Oh! I forgot! You don't think it's making love unless you can stick your dick in it!" She seemed incredibly pleased with her wittiness, but never the less, I clinked glasses with her and we both did "bottoms up' together. Our glasses were filled immediately and our privacy was assured with another tip that "stuck" to the glass. And I mean privacy; I noticed they weren't seating customers within two tables of us in any direction.
"Which brings us to your last point" I said. "If I remember right, you were concerned about Tawny's sexual pleasure. I think we took care of the dress-up issue and I can shower and shave a little more often, but maybe you could teach me how to work that ring in her clitoral hood? Not having a clitoris, I'm not quite sure how to make the most of it. Would you like to give me some pointers on that? Maybe some extended show and tell with a live Tawny?" Her response was a hasty belch and: "Fuckin' A, anytime, anywhere, and as often as you want. I'll ring that ring like a... like a... ah, fuck it! I'll show you how to ring her fuckin' bell, every time. You just pay close attention, Shithead. You're gonna be taught by a master."
"Wouldn't that be a mistress not a master?" I asked with a leer. "Fuck! what...Ever!" was her reply.
"And if I remember," I continued, "you were worried about her sexual load being too much. Maybe you should pick up some of the load for her, while you're here. You know we haven't really discussed room and board charges while you're staying with us. I think you should definitely be paying rent, don't you?" If I had grown three eyes, she couldn't' have looked more confused.
She leaned away from me in the booth as if she needed to get a real good look at who was really sitting next to her. "What are you fuckin' talkin' about? When I first got here, I said I'd help her with the cleaning and what not. You were the one who said you wanted to pay me for it. I never asked you to. Don't fuckin' bother giving me any money, if I gotta turn around and give it right back to you." Her volume level had grown significantly during the last outburst. I motioned her to quiet down and she suddenly became aware of the surroundings again. I told her: "No, I don't want the money back, that's for you and your little guy. I'm talking about sex. How does the old saying go: ' Ass, gas or grass, nobody rides for free!' What would you say to that? We had a terrific threesome in college. I'd like to share with my wife with you, again and I think you'd like that. But, this time, I'd like to pork you, too."
Wendy shook her head. "You are one fuckin' sick puppy aren't you. I told Tawny you'd be trying to crawl up my ass if I came to stay with you two. So how do you want us? Do you want us stacked one on top of the other doggy style, or maybe in a titty sixty nine, while you swap ends every twenty strokes? How about if she does that fuckin' oyster thing, where she puts her knees behind her elbows? I can straddle her so we can rub clits and you can switch holes every other goddam stroke." Wendy's excitement level had grown again to the point that I was afraid she was hyperventilating. She consciously started to calm herself.
"Just a second..., Okay... Okay! Well... fuck it..., I really don't care. That bastard, Juan, spent enough time up my ass that I'm pretty used to it by now. It's just that..., well,... you are just such a bullshit manipulator that I hate to let you have it. But, on the other hand, it's the only hole I'd let you in." She saw the 'say what' look on my face, and continued: "You know Juan used to be Tawny's boyfriend, before she met you?" I nodded. Wendy continued: "She dumped him when it was obvious that he was giving up music for a career as a pimp. I should have been smart enough to pull out then, too, but I couldn't turn down the chance to teach all those young cunts how to suck pussy. There's an awful lot of old farts who get real excited watching two girls eat each other out. Anyway, I let Juan fuck my cunt, one time, and guess who has a little boy to show for it? So, don't even think about sticking your dick in my cunt. That's 'for ladies only' from now on. And if you try to stick it in my mouth, I'll bite it off. But if you want a little piece of ass to make yourself feel like hot shit, I guess we can work it out. But anytime your dick is near me, I expect to have unlimited access to Tawny's cunt! Deal?"
I told her: "That's good by me, but there's one little problem that I need you to help me with. Tawny promised me she would never allow any other man to buttfuck her. You know that don't you?" Her response was a deep pull on her drink and a "Yeah! What is the big deal about that? She married you and, as far as I know, she gave you exclusive use of all of her. She left Juan, because he was trying to rent part of her out That doesn't seem like your kinda thrill. So, why do you need a promise about her asshole?"
I asked: "Have you ever read "Story of O," by Pauline Reage?" She shook her head slightly and said: "No. What is it, required reading for perverted buttfuckers?" I ignored her comment and answered: " It was required reading to be my wife. It's a classic of dom/sub and s/m literature. It's one of the most well written pieces of erotic literature. Don't tell me you don't have some interest in something like that!" She frowned and said" "I guess I've gotten a little behind in my reading. You can loan it to me sometime. How about the just Cliff's Notes version for tonight?"
I settled back to explain: "In that story, the main character is a woman who submits herself completely to her boyfriend. There's a lot of sex and whippings and bondage and corsetting and all kinds of stuff, but eventually the boyfriend turns her over to an older man, named Sir Stephen. She is willingly shared with other men and women, but Sir Stephen makes her promise that he will have exclusive use of her asshole. There's more to it than that, but that's where the concept of my exclusive rights to Tawny's ass come from." Wendy was still looking lost, so I continued: "You see, we both agreed that we might want to swing with another couple or maybe do a threesome with another guy." I almost laughed at the look of disgust that came over Wendy's face at the last suggestion. I quickly said: "Well, Tawny might find that attractive, if it was the right guy and I never said she had to. We won't do any swinging without complete agreement from both of us." Wendy thought hard and asked: "So what if I want to stick a finger up her ass or something?" I gave her a big grin and said: "I don't think you qualify as a man, so you just feel free to do whatever gives Tawny the most pleasure, okay?" She shook her head again and asked: "Can you cut to the goddam chase? What the hell does it have to do with me?"
"Well", I continued, "when she gave me that promise, she also promised to cut off my balls and hang them on the bedroom wall, if she caught me with my dick in another woman's ass. I guess I never told anyone about that before. You're gonna have to convince her that it's okay for you and me to get it on like that. And I think it would be best if you didn't explain it in terms of 'rent.' That can be a little secret just between you and me. Okay?" Her response was another dramatic belch, followed by: "Awww, Fuck me. Not only do I have to let you fuck me in the ass, but I have to talk your wife into letting you do it... Ahhh fuck..., awright, what the fuck..., if that's what it takes to get access to Tawny's pussy, then that's what it takes. Okay, you're on."
She finished off her drink and muttered: "I can't believe this. I just gave my asshole to an asshole. Let's get outta here before I give up anything else." She started to get up from the table and then sank back down. "You're gonna have to help me out the door" she said. "...And you're gonna be a real gentle man, okay? If you do, I'll give you one clue to how to get anything you want from you wife, whenever you want it... You've just gotta try to figure out how to use it. I'll even help if I can, but you've gotta do some rethinking. Okay, here it is. Like most guys, you want a sex slave and that's what you've tried to make Tawny. But, she wants to be your 'Love Slave', not a sex slave. If you make her your love slave she'll probably give you all the sex you can handle and then some, but if you try to make her a sex slave, she's just going to shut down on you and your marriage is gonna go right down the fuckin' tube." Not too brightly, I asked: "What's the difference?" She looked at me and shook her head. She looked like she regretted that gesture and when she had stabilized again she said: "The difference is you give sex to a sex slave, 'cause that's what they want. But you have to give love to a love slave. You follow me? Man you are fuckin' stupid. You better hope I hang around long enough to help you figure it out... Alright, let's get me home, before you have to fuckin' carry me. And take it slow around the corners, I don't want Tawny seeing me coming home with my head hangin' out the fuckin window. You do right by me and I'll tell Tawny you deserve a good blow job when we get home."
I took it easy on the way home. Tawny took one look at Wendy and insisted on helping her into bed, but I think it was an excuse to girltalk about how the evening went. I can't prove Wendy had anything to do with it, but I do remember getting a really outstanding blow job, twice; after my shower, of course.
Chapter the Third
we go shopping and I come to like it.
I was ready for some fun shopping early in the morning. What guy wouldn't get excited about dressing two women per his favorite fantasy? We didn't start out right away. We had to wait for Wendy's hangover to subside. Tawny was insistent that she should get to pick out Wendy's outfit, rather than me. I put up a little resistance, more for show than anything, and let her talk me into it. I was going to suggest that I trade my selection of Wendy's outfit for Tawny's wearing something really sexy while we shopped.
Tawny beat me to it. I think it was supposed to be a sweetener, but she talked me into letting her buy two outfits for Wendy, supposedly one for me and the other for her. Well, lets see, my wife wants to wear something really sexy for me and I don't have to worry about picking out clothes for a somebody I don't know all that well anyway. I'm pretty sure I gave in real easy. Wendy eventually pronounced herself ready to live through another day and the women got ready to go.
Tawny was dressed in a beaded fringed crop top and short skirt, with thigh highs and heels. I thought she had sucked the life out of my dick the last night, but once we were in the garage, and she handed me her panties (absolutely without prompting from me and with a big smile on her face), and showed me her bare pussy under her skirt, I was right back up again. A few moments later Wendy wandered in. She was dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of blue jeans, but in a considerable nod to fashion, I believe she was wearing a bra. She just missed Tawny's flashing me and she insisted she wanted to see Tawny's pussy too. Tawny told her she would have to wait until they got to the mall; maybe they could go into a fitting room together.
One more surprise for me was that the women insisted we take the pickup to the mall rather than our more comfortable sedan. Wendy insisted she didn't want to sit on the front bench seat with the two of us, but made herself comfortable in the rear of the club cab, instead. She kept up a running commentary of improbable sexual activities that hadn't actually happened between the two of us, the wait staff and any number of animals on our way home from the sports bar last night. Between Tawny's pretend anger and my feeble denials, it made a dull drive to the mall much more interesting.
Once we got to the mall, Wendy put up a fuss about how we should walk down the halls. She insisted she didn't want me to be in the middle: "like we're obedient little women 'flanking' this stud." Tawny didn't want to be in the middle, cause she would feel uncomfortable now that someone had made a fuss about it, but she wanted to be able to hold my hand. We settled on whoever was the object of our shopping activity would be in the middle, turn and turn about. I volunteered to be the last one to buy clothes for and that seemed to settle the concern. We flipped a coin to decide which of the women would be the first to serve as the "body" to be dressed and Tawny won that one.