This is a story from long ago when I was still a novice at the ways of sex and the married woman.

“Maggie, I’m sorry, I won’t be here tomorrow when you come to Kansas City.” The speaker on the telephone was my friend Sue. “But you can go out on the town by yourself. Can you?” Sue had a note of concern in her voice.

“I can. I’ll go to our usual bar. I know people there.”

“Rose told me she’ll be there with her husband, Bob. You know them, don’t you?”

“I’ve met Rose.”

“You can hook up with them but, Maggie, they are a wild couple. Do be careful.”

“I’ll be careful with the margaritas. This time.” I laughed.

Sue had been my best friend in high school. Fast forward fifteen years and Sue, now living in Kansas City, introduced me, the wife of a fundamentalist preacher who presided over a poor church in a small Kansas town, to a world of bars and booze and casual sex.

A year earlier, I had begun a career as a self-employed accountant. One of my jobs brought me to Kansas City for a couple of days every three months. Out on the town with Sue, I had my first taste of alcohol and extra-marital sex – and I liked it! My qualms and guilt the next morning were not so severe as to make me regretful. I had repeated the experience half a dozen times with three different men.

I was not deprived of sex at home. My husband fucked me very night. It was always the same. A quick kiss, a feel of my breast, and then he raised my night gown to my waist, rolled over on top of me, stuck his dick inside me, pumped, and cummed in about two minutes. Sometimes I cummed. During my periods, he overcome an aversion to oral sex because it was not sanctioned by the Bible and I gave him blow jobs. However, his mouth never strayed below my boobs and rarely even there. The sex described in the trashy novels I read sounded like a lot more fun. It was.

The thrills of illicit sex and alcohol were tempered by fear. I was a married woman, thirty-four years old, with two children, age 14 and 13. My husband was not a bad person, albeit boring, unimaginative, and controlling. His possible suspicions that my business trips might involve more than business were assuaged by the almost-new automobile I bought him. I didn’t feel guilty about my illicit life, but I was afraid I would be caught which would ruin my reputation and my business as my clients were religious organizations and churches.

Now, it was back to Kansas City again. Not having Sue as my guide to the wilder side of life worried me, but I was excited at the prospect of two nights of escape from my husband and my role as a frumpy and dutiful preacher’s wife. I would drink margaritas and talk to interesting people and I hoped that I might invite a nice man back to my hotel room. “Nice” is important to me. I don’t want to fuck a caveman.

I dressed carefully for my night on the town. At home I usually wore a loose skirt that reached below my knees, a blouse buttoned up to the neck, sensible shoes, and my hair pulled up into a tight and practical bun. My Kansas City outfit was more stylish, if still less than daring. “What if somebody from home saw me?” was my worry.

I began dressing with panties and a lacy, push-up bra which emphasized my meager, but nicely pointed, breasts. I topped that with a loose, flowery skirt that reached just above my knees and a tunic top of jersey material with a deep-cut neckline. I donned sparkly sandals. My long, slender legs needed little emphasis to show them to advantage. My hair was mousy-colored but thick and full. I loosed it from the bun I usually wore and let it fall to my shoulders. I would have liked to have my hair tinted and highlighted, but the wife of a preacher in small-town Kansas did not do such things. I appraised myself and my outfit in the mirror. “I’m pretty. Not femme fatale, but not dowdy either.”

I took a taxi to the bar I knew, but I was uncomfortable because I had never been there without Sue as my guide to the wilder side of life. I paused inside the door to look for familiar faces. My heart jumped when I saw Rose at a large corner table with another woman and five men. Rose saw me and waved me over. “You’re Maggie, aren’t you? Sue’s friend?”

“I am.”

“Join us. This is my husband Bob, and these people can introduce themselves.”

I looked around and didn’t recognize anybody else in the bar. I squeezed into a seat at Rose’s table and introduced myself. The table was crowded and my bare leg rested against that of one of the men whose name was Jeff. I ordered a margarita and drank it silently while the others bantered back and forth. With a second margarita I found my voice and began to join the conversation. I smiled and laughed and didn’t object when Jeff’s arm snaked around my back and another man’s knee rubbed against mine. It was looking like it would be a good night.

“Let’s continue this party at our apartment,” said Bob. He turned to me. “Are you with us? It’s only a couple of blocks. We can walk.”

“Hear, hear,” chanted the others. “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie!”

I laughed and stood up and posed, arms raised and chest thrust out, in an imitation of a vamp. The people at my table and all the other patrons at the bar clapped and cheered. I acknowledged my admirers with a wave of my hand. I was noticed! I was somebody! I looked at Bob and said, “Yes, I’ll go.” The thought in the back of my mind was that I didn’t know what I was getting into.

The others refused to let me pay my share of the bill. “Newbies go free,” said Bob. “Next time, you pay. Deal?”

“How can I complain?” The eight of us, five men and three woman, left the bar, and sauntered down an empty street in noisy disorder. I was happy, a lonely woman who had found friends. Bob held my hand and steered me in the right direction. I turned toward him to say something and felt my breast rubbing against his arm. I felt a thrill. But he was married to Rose!

I looked around at the others. Rose and Jeff and another man led the way. Jeff had his hand on Rose’s ample behind. Rose was plump. Following were two other men – I had forgotten their names – with their arms draped around Yolanda, the third woman in the group. Yolanda was short and busty and her breasts flowed out of her low-cut print dress. Yolanda kissed one man and then the other as they arrived at the door of Rose and Bob’s apartment house. Bob kissed me on the forehead and clutched me to him. I didn’t resist, but I turned my head to look at Rose. If Rose cared about the kiss and embrace, she didn’t show it.

The apartment was small, consisting of a living room with a sofa and several cushions scattered around the floor and a kitchen with a table and four chairs. Though an open door was a bedroom. I sat down on a cushion, pulling my knees up to my chest while I waited for Bob to get beer out of the refrigerator. He handed me a bottle of beer and sat down on one side of me. Jeff stretched out on my other side, his head tucked against my thigh. Yolanda and two men sat together on the sofa. Rose was sitting on another cushion and another man, whose name I didn’t remember, was stretched out on the carpet with his head in her lap.

Somebody handed me another bottle of beer and took away the empty bottle. I was feeling euphoric from the margaritas and the beer. The room was spinning in front of my eyes and I laughed at the jokes ricocheting around the room. My dress had crept up and my legs held against my chest were now uncovered. Bob put his hand on one of my knees.

One of the men sitting with Yolanda got to his feet. “Let’s dance! Turn out the lights and turn on the music.”

We answered him with cheers. Rose got up and inserted a CD into the player, then turned off the lights. The room turned dark except for the tiny green lights on the CD player and a smoke detector on the ceiling. I was grateful for the dark as I was not a good dancer, dancing being considered sinful in my husband’s church. A rock song blared loudly from the speakers. Bob pulled me to my feet and I began to gyrate in time with the music.

All eight of us were soon on our feet, dark shapes moving sinuously around the floor, coming together to touch, hands to waist, to hips, to buttocks, to chests, cheeks rubbing against cheeks, changing partners, twirling and shaking as one song finished and another began, and then another, and the air conditioner struggled to keep the room cool.

“It’s hot!” The voice was Yolanda’s. “I’m taking my top off.” She laughed.

“I’m taking my bottom off,” laughed a man named Daniel. “And my top.” In the darkness Emily could just see the outline of Yolanda and Daniel waving their clothing over their heads and then tossing it toward a corner of the room. Yolanda and Daniel embraced and then pranced over to Rose and helped to pull her blouse over her head. Another man gyrated to Maggie’s side and said, “My turn.”

“I’m Terry,” he said, feeling for my hand and shaking it. He was not much taller than me and his bare penis nestling into my crotch felt short and hard.

I laughed. “Nice to meet you.”

His hands ran up down my sides, his hands beneath the fabric of my blouse and his hips bent into me. He pulled my hand around to his bare buttocks. “Your blouse?” he asked.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, but...” I had a moment of apprehension through the fog of too many margaritas and bottles of beer. “Uhh ... yes.” I said. His hands pulled up my loose tunic top and I raised my arms to allow him to slip it off over my head. He tossed the blouse away.

Terry didn’t ask before he took off my bra. He unclasped it, pulled it over my arms and tossed it the same direction that he had tossed my blouse. My first thought was, “I hope I can find my clothing when this is over.” My second thought was, “I’m naked from the waist up in the midst of a crowd of people I barely know.”

Terry rocked back and forth rubbing his bare chest against mine. I felt my nipples harden as they rubbed against the hair on his chest. His hands had pulled my skirt up to my hips and his hands explored my buttocks over the fabric of my panties. Terry and I danced to the center of the group, clothing flying through the air as other people got naked.

“Announcement!” It was Rose speaking in the dark. “I see where this party is going. Condoms are in a bowl on the coffee table. Use them. They are a requirement of this house.” Rose sidled over to my side. She was also naked and her large, pendulous breasts brushed against me as she shouted in my ear over the sound of the pounding music. “Are you all right with this? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll call a tax for you if you want to leave.”

I quit dancing and tried to collect my thoughts. Rose’s breasts rubbed against me on one side and on the other Terry’s penis was hard against my thigh. I should go back to my hotel. “I have standards and limits,” or so I thought. I looked around in confusion. Yolanda danced by. She was naked now and she was kissing one man and then another in turn. One of them was Bob who was also naked. I could just barely see his penis flopping up and down as he gyrated to the music.

“Well,” I finally said, “I’m having a good time. I’ll stay.” My apprehension for the unknown was outweighed by my curiosity as to what would happen next – and the tingling in my breasts, the feel of an erect penis pressing into a hip, and the touch of the hair of Rose’s pussy rubbing against my other hip. It was a new situation for me.

Rose kissed me full on the lips and said, “I’m glad you’re staying.” She spun away from me, taking Terry with her. I stood alone for a moment, but another naked man took me in his arms and twirled me around to the beat of the music. “Bob?” I asked, unsure who it was in the dark.

Yes,” he answered. And then he moved away and I was in Yolanda’s arms. Our breasts collided as we danced together, Yolanda’s large, soft breasts rubbing against my erect nipples.

Yolanda kissed me. She was sweaty and smelled of liquor and her hands roamed up and down my body and she lowered her head and kissed my breasts. “Welcome to our gang,” she said. “You’re beautiful. So slender and youthful and I love your hair.”

Yolanda took my finger and guided it to her vagina. I felt the hard, small knot of her clitoris and then the moistness as my finger slipped inside her. I had never touched the sexual parts of another woman.

A man danced up to them. It was Bob again. “Let me help you off with those clothes, Maggie. May I?”

I didn’t object. He put his arms around me and unzipped my skirt and it fell to my feet. I stepped out of it and he picked it up and threw it toward the corner. “How will I ever find it,” I thought with panic. But I didn’t complain when he pulled my panties down and went down on one knee to take them off my feet, his mouth brushing against my pussy. I nearly tripped over a couple locked together on a cushion on the floor. It was Rose and a man, I wasn’t sure which one. “Are they fucking?” I asked myself. The thought came into my mind, “I guess I needn’t worry about Rose taking offense if I fuck her husband.” But Bob had swung away from me.

Everybody was naked now. Yolanda and a man were kissing, standing, their bodies entwined. With Rose and Yolanda occupied, I twirled from one man to another and to a third, all of whom embraced me and ran their hands over my body and pulled my hand down to feel their erect penises. I was excited and frightened. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” I said to herself. “I’m drunk. I’m really, really drunk.” That was an excuse; I laughed at myself, hysteria and desire intermixed.

It was Terry who guided me to the sofa, sat down, pulled me down onto his lap facing him, and kissed me long and hard. Rose was almost under my feet. She was sitting on the cushion and two men were with her, one holding her from behind and the other with his head between her legs. Yolanda had disappeared with the other two men. The music had ceased. It was quiet in the apartment except for the low sounds of people talking, moving, and breathing.

Terry opened up my legs and I straddled him. We wrapped arms around each other. “Oh, my God,” he said, “You feel wonderful. So smooth and soft. And those tits...” He kissed a breast and held it in his hand. His erect penis rubbed against my abdomen.