Carol and I had been married for nearly ten years. We truly loved one another and had what I would say at least, to be a better than average sex-life. We enjoyed spending whatever time we could together, though we had early on agreed that we both needed some time to ourselves. For me that was a round of golf with the guys on Sunday every once in a while, and for Carol, it was spending it with her friends in the little book club they'd begun.
Carol worked as a school teacher which in the beginning she'd started doing just to help out with things while I attempted to get my own business off the ground, which I had managed to do in the small work area of the basement that I'd turned into my own workable shop. It wasn't meant to be a full-time job for me, just something to do on the side for a little extra money. But after a while, it became quite lucrative, quite unexpectedly.
I had started out transferring videotapes onto disc, in the beginning for friends and family until word began to spread and suddenly I was inundated with requests to transfer people's entire collection of tapes. Before I knew it, I was working six hours a day making more money in that amount of time than I'd made at my full time job in an eight to ten hour day.
Then it really got interesting. A few closer friends had approached me about transferring their private little home movies onto disc as well. And before long, word spread that I was more than willing to do that for them too. The next thing I knew, I was getting business from nearly all over the country, just transferring people's naughty little x-rated videotapes.
Carol knew about that side of my business of course, yeah ... admittedly we'd watched a few of the more interesting tapes together, some of which I'd made copies of and kept for ourselves. I had laughed though when Carol told me that if any of our friends came to me about transferring their videos, she didn't want to know about it, because she didn't really want to know what friends of ours were doing what behind closed doors.
At forty-one, Carol could pass for a woman in her early thirties. She had dark brown shoulder length hair, though she wasn't averse to cutting it shorter for the style of the day. Whenever she did that, it was like being married to a whole different woman, and often our sex-life renewed itself whenever she did that, which was certainly fine with me. She still had a knockout figure, though she was always complaining about the few extra pounds she was carrying, though damned if I could ever really see them, usually I was just staring at her tits. Carol still had lovely breasts, full, ripe and perfectly proportioned, though there again, she saw flaws that I never did, something about gravity and all that.
When the opportunity came for me to join a guy's golf club on Sundays, I thought Carol would really balk at that. After all, once in a while on Sunday was ok, but making a commitment to play every Sunday was pushing it. To my surprise however, Carol urged me to do just that, saying when she did that she could then host their little book-club at our house on Sundays when I was off playing, which had been difficult for her group in scheduling to do as most of the other husbands (who weren't out golfing) really didn't want to have their day or domain disrupted by a bunch of noisy women.
As it turned out, the offer to join was contingent on my participating more as a substitute when one of the other guys couldn't make it and fill out a foursome. But that worked out for me too, as there was usually always someone who couldn't make it for one reason or another. I'd even quit worrying about getting a call asking me if I was available to fill in or not, so I just showed up and had always been able to play.
This had gone on for quite some time by now, me golfing on Sundays, and Carol meeting with her group on Sundays at our place. The one and only time I'd been told I wouldn't be needed, informing Carol I'd be staying home instead, they had hurriedly made arrangements to meet elsewhere rather than have me underfoot or interrupting their discussions.
Then one day I had gone off to golf, arriving only to discover that everyone had shown up who was supposed to. It was one of those rare times when using me as a substitution wasn't needed. Turning around and heading for home, I thought about how that would no doubt annoy my wife as well as her bookish friends. I knew I could pull around the side of the house without being heard, using the back driveway entrance instead of the front, which would no doubt be taken up by most of her friends cars anyway. From there, I could easily slip into the back door, enter the kitchen, and with luck, disappear down stairs to my workshop without any of them even being the wiser. I could certainly entertain myself down there for the few hours that they met, and then explain it all to her afterwards. Provided I didn't disturb or interrupt anything, I didn't figure that would certainly pose any problems.
Of course, shortly after arriving home is when I discovered one of my wife's dirty little secrets.
By now of course, I had a pretty sophisticated little set up. I could record, do videos, and transfer a multitude of tapes simultaneously. I even had my own little refrigerator, which I kept stocked with a few beers, some soft drinks and enough munchies to keep me going until dinnertime. In addition to that, I even had my own bathroom, which is where I now headed in order to relieve myself prior to doing some work.
Sitting down on the john, I could clearly hear the distinct voice of my wife and her friends coming from the sitting room that sat directly above me. Obviously the air ducts were connected into those of the bathroom and I smiled inwardly realizing that.
"How does that feel?" I heard someone saying.
"It feels really good," I heard another woman's voice suddenly respond. "George would die if he knew I'd purchased this, but I just had to try it!" she giggled suggestively.
That got my attention. I still wasn't sure that I had heard what I'd heard, or even that it had meant what my dirty little mind suddenly thought it might mean. But I also knew George, and now I recognized the voice as coming from Margie his wife. I couldn't really say George and I were friends, more of an acquaintance, with Carol and Margie actually being friends. He really was a bit of a strange duck, prudish in a way, and not someone I could or would ever imagine doing naughty little tapes for. I had in fact transferred a few video tapes for them, but not one of which had even had an "R" rating!
"How's it feel against your breasts?" I heard Carol suddenly comment. "I really like it against mine," she added.
"What the fuck?"
"It sorta tickles, but in a nice way, you know what I mean?" I heard a bit of giggling again, then another low moan coming from someone else entirely.
"I think she's getting close," someone chuckled. "She always gets that same look on her face whenever she cums."
"Holy shit!" I thought to myself. I'd been sitting there, now standing with my ear pressed against the vent. I'd been trying to convince myself that what I was hearing and listening to, wasn't what it really was. They had to be discussing some damn book they'd been reading, even if it was a more provocative one. Now I had serious doubts. Though for the life of me, I just couldn't imagine my wife participating in something like what I was beginning to suspect was actually going on. They certainly weren't discussing any books, though perhaps the kind of books they'd been reading had somehow led to this, which was confirmed to me a short while later, but I digress.
"Oh, Oh, Oh!" I heard then.
"Yep! Like I said, there she goes!"
Someone giggled, someone else began moaning, and then I heard my wife. "Let me do that for you," she purred in that sultry sounding voice I had so often heard myself. "Always feels better when someone else does it for you doesn't it?" she asked.
"Oh hell yes," Margie was just barely able to say. "And like I said, George would never do this for me in a million years anyway!"
Moments later I was listening to the woman climaxing, as well as several others. Dumbfounded, I stood there not knowing what the hell I should do, or say, or react. I had mixed emotions, some of them bordering on the ridiculous when it came right down to it. Was this something I should be angry about? Excited? Offended? Shocked? Well a little shocked maybe, surprised yes ... but now horny as hell too!
Things seemed to settle down pretty quickly after that, though they began talking in normal tones once again hearing them dress. "So, we read the next chapter of "My Secret Life", and then it will be Cathy's turn to share either a fantasy or preferably a real experience that ties in with that chapter of the book."
"I thought it was my turn?" Another woman spoke whose identity still eluded me. So far that made a total of eight women, including my wife who was there. Eight women!
"No, you're next week," my wife spoke informing her. "Then the week after that, it's my turn."
"Oh goody!" Margie said excitedly. "I like it when you share something naughty and fun with us, you and Pete seem to have the most exciting sex-life, I wish ours was even half as exciting as yours is," she stated. I heard Carol laugh.
"Yeah, especially these past few months, ever since we've been getting together like this, I've found myself becoming more and more aroused. And not only that, a bit more naughty and adventurous too! Even Pete commented on that Friday night when I decided to give him a blow-job in the parking lot at the supermarket."
I had to admit, I really had enjoyed that.
.... There is more of this story ...