[Author's Note: This is a second, alternative continuation of "Going to Mary's", by Just Plain Bob, who has graciously given his permission for me to write another chapter to his story. You should read "Going to Mary's" before proceeding to read this chapter.]
I was so sure that everything was perfect. Sam was my terrific, loving husband, but couldn't give me enough of what I needed in bed. Thanks to my best friend Mary, I'd made the acquaintance of Chet, who was keeping my pretty little pussy very happy. But I knew that I couldn't keep my sneaking around a secret from Sam forever—so I arranged for Sam to overhear a phone call I staged with Mary. Now he thinks that Mary and I are lovers—and as I anticipated, that doesn't seem to bother him at all. And when he thinks I'm with Mary, I'm actually with Chet. What could be better?
Then it all went to Hell. And I want to blame that fucking Ann Landers—though, to be fair, it probably would have blown up in my face sooner or later anyway.
For a week or two after eavesdropping on my hot phone call with Mary, Sam was a tiger in bed. Clearly the idea of Mary and me having hot sex together was a huge turn-on for him, and I was getting the benefit. Even though his best was never better than so-so for me, I was getting a lot of his cock and lot of his tongue and it was great! He was happy, I was happy (both with Sam and with Chet) and life was wonderful.
One of the things Sam and I used to enjoy every morning was sharing the newspaper with each other. We'd read each other the funnies and the Ann Landers advice column. One day I was reading him a letter from a confused wife. She'd been having regular lunches with an ex-boyfriend, but she hadn't bothered to mention that to her husband. Her husband found out about it and got furious, but the wife felt that since it was nothing but lunches—no sex, nothing intimate—her husband had nothing to complain about.
That damn busybody Ann Landers said that the wife was wrong: there may not have been adultery, but in seeing an old boyfriend behind her husband's back she had betrayed his trust. Honesty was key to the success of any marriage, so she said.
I read Sam the letter without realizing I might be getting myself in trouble—and then it was too late to stop. I saw his face take on a strange, distant look, but there was nothing I could do about it.
That night after dinner, he sat me down in the living room and said, "Terri, you know how much I love you, don't you?"
"Of course I do, Sam."
"For our marriage to work, we need to be completely honest with one another. I tell you everything that's going on with me. But lately, honey, I've had the feeling that you're keeping secrets from me, and it makes me a little worried. Can you let me know what's going on?"
Oh shit. I knew exactly what Sam meant, but I sure as hell didn't want to talk about it with him. As long as he thought I was Lezzing it up with Mary, and that he knew our secret, he could be happy about it. But I didn't want it out in the open, because I was afraid of where that might lead.
"Gosh, Sam, I don't know what you mean. You know I always tell you everything, honey."
That answer obviously didn't satisfy him. He looked darkly at me and left the room without another word. That night when I came out of the bathroom wearing the sexiest baby-doll nightie I own—usually guaranteed to produce an instant hard-on—he just said, "sorry, I'm kind of tired tonight," and rolled away from me.
I tried to begin the next morning with a long, loving blow-job, but to my amazement he pulled away from me without a word and went off to take a shower. This was serious!
So that night I bit the bullet and told him the "truth".
"Sam, I know I made you unhappy last night, but I was afraid to be honest with you. I just love you so much, and I don't want you to be mad at me! Please forgive me."
"Honey, I love you—you can tell me anything."
"Well," I said, trying to look embarrassed, I've... been being a bad girl. With Mary. We've been—oh God, I'm so ashamed!—we've been... having sex."
His face took on a look of triumph and pleasure. He was so happy that I'd confessed! I realized this might actually go well.
"You and Mary? Wow!" Sam said, pretending to be shocked.
"Were you afraid I'd be mad?" he continued, pulling me into a big embrace. "It's okay, honey, it really is. Actually, you know, it's kind of a turn-on."
The rest of that night, and the next few days, were one big love-fest in our house, although sex-fest might be the more accurate term. Sam was so pleased by my "honesty", and still so turned-on by the thought of me and Mary rolling around in bed together, that he was all over me. And of course I was still getting that wonderfully satisfying dose of Chet's big, hard black cock during the days, so I was one happy lady!
But naturally—and how could I not have anticipated this?—Sam's interest in my girl-girl affair with Mary only intensified. Nearly every time we had sex he wanted me to describe what Mary and I did together: how it started, what different kinds of sex we had, what I liked the most from her and her from me.
For a while it wasn't a problem. It was easy enough for me to make up stories, and I usually didn't have to say very much before he was so wound-up that he'd fuck me like crazy. Even Sam's best couldn't hold a candle to Chet, but he was my husband and I loved him and I was happy to be turning him on so much.
But after a few weeks, just hearing about us girls wasn't enough. Timidly at first, then more assertively, Sam expressed a wish to watch and join us. I refused him each time as best I could, but he kept bringing it up.
Finally, he said, "Terri, honey, I've been pretty patient about this. But you've been cheating on our marriage with someone else—never mind that it's another woman—and that simply isn't fair to me.
"If you won't let me join in with you and Mary, then you're going to have to stop seeing her. 'Forsaking all others', which you promised to do, didn't have an exception for girl-on-girl sex with your best friend."
What a mess! I cried, I begged, I remonstrated with him, but Sam was immovable. Either he got to join us, or the affair had to end. And if the affair ended, it would be virtually impossible for me to keep sneaking off to see Chet without Sam finding out.
When I timidly broached the subject with Mary, she practically bust a gut laughing.
"Me, you and Sam? Get real, Terri! I'm sure you have a very nice pussy, but you're not ever gonna get it licked by me! And as for hopping in bed with Sam—all I can say is, he's a nice guy and all, but: Not in This Lifetime!"
"But Mary," I wailed, "what else can I do? Either I give him a threesome with you and me, or he's going to insist I stop seeing you! Which means no more Chet. I'd go crazy within a week!"
"Not my problem," she said primly. "I told you from the beginning this was a crazy plan, and now your chickens have come home to roost. You're going to have to solve this one without me."
In desperation, I told the whole story to Chet. He'd just fucked the hell out of me from behind, and we were lying side by side on his bed, catching our breath.
First he laughed nearly until he cried. "You, Mary, and your husband? Like that's ever gonna happen!" Chet knew Mary well, since he'd been her lover before she got married to Dave; in fact she was the one who introduced him to me, for which I've been eternally grateful!
But to my surprise, Chet did have a great idea. "Listen babe, you don't actually need Mary—you just need another woman who can pretend to be Mary."
"Are you nuts? He knows just what she looks like!"
"No, listen," he said. "Tell your husband you've gotten Mary to agree to a threesome, one time only. But she's very embarrassed about it, so it has to be in a dark room—no lights on. Then find yourself a girl about Mary's size and shape, and you're all set!"
.... There is more of this story ...