How much do you know your partner?

Even in later years, contrary to popular belief, new things can and do happen. We have been married now for many years, enjoyed each others company, grown together, produced our children and basked in the love of our grandchildren. Without giving too much away, our eldest daughter is thirty five and mother of four boys.

In those years together, we have played, tried many things, with varying degrees of success. Several of those experiences have formed the basis of stories published to the net on many sites, some of them here. (If you cannot find them, just ask me and I will forward the links.)

So to this new experience; I suppose I should allow a brief description to paint the background as it were.

Carol, my wife of thirty seven years, is slightly overweight (she says), is still a good looking woman and, in my view, goes in and out in all the right places. The sight of her naked still raises interest in me and a word or look can produce a night of passion, especially when that look is framed in any one of the several outfits we have bought to play in. I don't see a woman who is closer to sixty than fifty, I see a woman who remains as sexy as the day I met her.

The advantage of years is that, the frenetic love making of early years has passed. These days, it is a more relaxed and satisfying excursion into nerve ending stimulation. Foreplay can take care of as much as twenty minutes or more depending on our mood. Our irregular sessions can be more than a couple of hours of pleasure in various positions until exhaustion and secretions have run out.

Anyway.

Sunday afternoon, as she was drying the dishes I had washed from our midday meal, she announced, as if it were nothing more than an everyday topic of conversation that she wanted to try a three or more some.

Now, anyone who has read stories of mine that covered our early years, "The Lesson and Role Play" to name two of them, will know that I have a broad mind. But, I have to admit that this turn of events caused me to pause for a second or so. Together, we have watched many porn movies which involved one, two or many participants, but at no time had she mentioned a desire to try the various mixes of sexes. Suddenly, at the tender age of fifty six-ish, she nonchalantly throws this innocuous comment into our everyday conversation, as if it were no more than a casual observation of the weather.

Eventually, after a few seconds of getting my thought processes back into alignment, I asked her what had brought this sudden desire to the fore.

"Well..." She began. "I was chatting with Janice the other day and she told me about a swinging club she and David go to occasionally and I thought that it would be nice perhaps, to try it out with other people, sort of branch out, as it were."

"So you want to swap partners? Is that it?"

"No, not swap partners, but have a woman or a man come join us here."

Carol has always said that sex belongs in the home, in the bedroom, between two people, in private and not for general consumption so, having someone visit for the purposes of a sexual encounter is something of a departure from that particular view point, but not so far away as going to a club. There is some logic to it I suppose, it is still in our bedroom after all.

"So, who have you got in mind?" Applying male logic to the situation helped me to arrive at the entirely wrong conclusion that there might be an ulterior motive. Perhaps she fancied the milkman or the postman.

"No one." She answered. I thought I detected a lack of full information or evasiveness. I am naturally suspicious when confronted with an unfamiliar situation.

"Well, male or female?" I had my preference of course, true to the masculine train of thought.

"Either or both." She continued wiping the dinner plate with the tea towel, but looked askance at me to gauge my reaction.

"Well how about Janice, she is most likely up for it?" Janice had something of a reputation, living up to the Happy Divorcee myth to the full.

"Hell, no. Janice is a slut and met herself coming back from around the block. She's had more pricks than a pin cushion. I was thinking of a complete stranger, perhaps a couple off of Anywebcam dot com. I know you visit the site often and chat to several people on there. By the way, it would have been nice if you had asked me first before putting those photos up."

I must have glanced down or looked guilty in some way because she laughed.

"I want it to be someone neither of us knows and it needs to be someplace else, like one of those Travel Lodges. They couldn't care less what goes on in their rooms just so long as you pay." Carol smiled no more than a curl to one side of her mouth in her impish way when she has an idea.

"You've thought about this haven't you?" I would never be one to accuse my wife of having seditious thoughts, but here, from her own lips, was proof that she not only had the thoughts, but also the makings of a plan.

"Some..." She admitted. " ... I just kind of wondered what it would be like, having a different man screw me while you watched and perhaps, have me watch you with another woman."

"So, you don't want to mess around with the woman then?"

I didn't say that. I think it might be nice to try. I have wondered once or twice, what it felt like for you when you lick me and I can think of only one way to find out."

We finished the dishes, put them away and made a cup of tea to take into the lounge. I was thinking, thoughts rapidly running around my head, visual scenarios for Carol's head between the legs of some strange woman neither of us knew. And, of Carol, kneeling in the doggy position while an Adonis shaped young man rammed into her. The inevitable arousal made its presence known with the suffusion of blood to my organ.

That evening proved to be one of those nights when sex transcends the physical act and spraying my cum all over her clit as she rubbed it furiously was only an act on the way to a fulfilment that culminated in a mutual satiation.

We spoke about this turn of events, chatting and planning on how it might be achieved. We decided against having someone from Anywebcam.com, we couldn't rely on discretion and that, to Carol, was paramount.

It's all very well thinking it, but the actuality is not quite so easy. Contrary to popular belief on so many web-sites, people are not just gagging for sex. Standing on street corners or hanging around in bars, just waiting for the opportunity to present its self. And then, there is actually going out on the hunt, as it were. Where does a couple who are more than twenty five go to meet strangers? Carol had already said she was not interested in going to a club. It might have helped, but in some twisted logic, she preferred that the person we hit on was not at a predestined place, purely for the motive of finding a sexual encounter.

I booked us into a Travel Lodge in Southend, thinking that the bars would be quite crowded and we might stand a good chance of hooking up with some one. Well yes, the bars were crowded, but everyone was at least half our age and, if they did look our way, only saw two old people dressed in clothes way too young for them. Perhaps we tried too hard to integrate and meld, perhaps we were too old, but it was obvious that we would not hook up.

Back at the hotel room, after giving up for the night, I fucked her all over the room, starting in the easy chair and finishing on the edge of the bed with my cock in her arse as I pulsed my expend deep into her. Now, that is a rare treat for me. Carol's arse is something of a shrine, a place to be visited on special occasions only.

We tried again, finding a motel just outside Brighton in Sussex. Brighton is known for its liberal attitudes, has the highest population of gays in the country per capita, but, even with Carol dressed in leather and fishnet stockings, we didn't raise so much as an eyebrow except from some guy way too drunk to get off the stool he was on, let alone raise a woody.

We had some wild sex in our room later, Carol fired up with the imagination of having a second man in the room and me, playing along with the scenario. The night came to a close as she performed oral on me, sucking my balls dry in front of our web-cam and allowing my cum to dribble past her lips, to fall on her tits in globules. Now that video did make it onto our profile on Anywebcam.com.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea." She said to me as we cuddled before sleep overcame us and the warm glow of sex slowly dissipated.

"It is a great idea. We're just not going about it in the right way I think." I nuzzled her neck and slid down to hold her in an embrace with her bottom in my stomach.

"Perhaps we're trying too hard." But how do you try less?

We tried on a couple of occasions, booking into a Travel Lodge or Motel, but were met with the same disappointment. For some reason, it just didn't happen. I suppose there was a bonus; we travelled England, visiting places we would not have otherwise. Gradually, the idea faded into a fantasy that we played out on occasion to enhance our lovemaking.

September came and went, melding into October, even melting into each other. The weather had been very hot, days and nights only differed by sunlight. Bed clothes were too much to bear.

We attended the wedding of Carol's boss. The woman had decided to marry a guy some fifteen years her junior, but explained in one of those girly moments, that he had the staying power of a horse and was hung like one too.

Of course, the reception after the ceremony was fuelled with a plenitude of drink and food. She had hired a barn so that she could get enough room for the three hundred guests. A bar had been brought and a band that was surprisingly good, belted out popular songs from a raised dais. It was a great night.

AT about three o'clock in the morning, Carol and I had run out of steam. Neither of us was drunk, but certainly, we were light-headed as we bade our goodbyes and well wishes to the happy couple who were grappling on the dance floor.

We shut the door on the barn, sealing of the sounds of the band and hundreds of people enjoying them selves.

Our pre-arranged cab, that was to take us back to our hotel, wasn't anywhere to be seen. The night was pitch black, illuminated by stars and a few forlorn lamps that hung on the sides of the timber barn creating halos of dim light.

It was still warm, heat radiated from the ground coming up through the soles of our feet as we waited. We cuddled and looked for the stab of headlamps that would signify the arrival of the car.

I said something about having a quickie in the hayrick while we waited, Carol laughed, a tinkling trill that really meant, nice idea buster, but it isn't going to happen. We decided to walk down to the gate to the lane where the cab would come from.

The gate stood agape and had someone leaning over the top bar. It was too dark to really see who until we were within touching distance.

The woman was obviously drunk and had thrown up at least once. Carol went to her aid, asking if she was okay and could we do anything to help.

She responded, saying that she was alright, but really wanted to get back to town to her hotel. With Carol's aide, she managed to stand and wobble around on the uneven ground. Carol was trying to sober her up a little, asking questions in an effort to get the woman's head into gear. Gradually, and after the removal of some impossibly high heeled shoes, her charge straightened up.

Suddenly, the darkness of the night was split by the twin beams of headlamps on full, scything through the blackness, coming down the lane. Our cab had at last arrived.

Carol had obviously offered to give the hapless woman a lift and helped her into the rear of the car and then followed her in to sit on the back seat. I sat at the front and confirmed to the wordless driver, our destination. Denise, Carol's new friend, was staying at the same hotel so, that was useful.

Half an hour later, after driving through deserted streets and country lanes, we arrived at the hotel. The cab dropped us at the front and sped away without a word from the driver through out the journey.

Denise couldn't remember her room number and said her husband had the key, but he had left the reception earlier with a couple of guys who were going to find a bar. Their relationship sounded rocky. We told the night Porter that we would look after the hapless Denise and that he should leave a message for her husband so he would know where she was.

Carol decided that Denise might feel better after a shower; she would certainly smell a lot cleaner out of her stained dress. Regurgitated red wine clings in an acidic pungent way. So the two ladies left me to the coffee maker while they attended to Denise's plight.

"Can you hand me my robe?" Carol's disembodied voice came from the bathroom after ten minutes or so.

I grabbed the robe from the closet and handed it through the door while telling her that coffee was made.

A few minutes later, a dishevelled Denise came out of the bathroom, her dark blonde hair plastered in corkscrewed ringlets, dripping onto the robe that she had wrapped around her and clasped at the neck by her hand.

"Thanks." She said as I handed her a cup. She sipped and winced at the hotness, then walked over to the stool in front of the mirrored dressing table. I could hear Carol in the shower, the sounds of water coming from the open door, faint wisps of steam escaping around the door frame.

"God, I look a mess." I didn't know whether I should answer or not so, decided to say nothing.

"Listen, thanks for looking after me. I guess I drank a bit too much after Ron left."

"No worries." I glanced up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The robe was open at the neck and gave a tantalising glimpse of creamy flesh and the swell of her breasts. She smiled in the mirror and took a sip of her coffee, closing the vee shaped view of her chest.

I got another robe from the closet and took it to the bathroom for Carol who was just getting out of the shower.

"What do you think?" She whispered.