Chapter 2

We honeymooned in New York City. Just as s she promised we fucked many, many times, sometimes when my cock was so sore that I didn’t think I could finish. She had always been an incredibly horny woman but one with a tremendous sense of self control. That’s what made it so surprising for me. Visiting Times Square it was Charie who insisted that we go into an adult book shop. It was there where she saw her first porno flick, actually masturbating while she watched. She climaxed several times, getting me off at least three, once by way of a fabulous blowjob.

The film was of two men on one woman. With her eyes bugging out as if she had just discovered America she said, “Gary, I’ve never even considered sex with more than one person.”

The men were both hung, much like me, so, having been with only one man she thought I was normal size. Many times after that, when I was ramming my cock into her newly christened cunt, she wondered out loud what it would be like to be ravished by more than one man. I found the conversation quite stimulating of course but I never imagined that anything like that would ever happen to us. From my own point of view after knowing what sex was like with Charie I often found myself looking at attractive women and becoming aroused while wondering what sex with them would be like.

After our first year of marriage I was transferred by my employer to the city of Huntington, West Virginia. It was 1964; Charie found a teaching job there. There were no children in our marriage with none planned for the next five years. Settling into the new community we became members of a Methodist church, something she had always insisted upon. As we’d done in our last community we became active members of the church. Charie taught Sunday school, I joined the governing board and both became members of the choir.

The choir director, John Chapman, was a handsome man with penetratingly blue eyes. Standing about 6’2” he had been a football star at a church affiliated university in Kentucky. His wife Penny, a stunningly attractive, vivacious blonde was the church organist, playing the piano and accompanying the choir as well. One night, after choir practice as we walked out of the church together Penny looked at John in a questioning manner. He looked at me and asked, “Do you and Charie drink?” I said that we did.

It’s always been of interest to me that while most people drink those involved in churches south of the Mason-Dixon often make a big deal of it. Many of those kinds of church people go to the extremes in hiding their liquor in their homes so other church members won’t see it. Since many people of the same persuasion seem to do the same it’s always appeared to me as one of the great hypocrisies. Huntington was a “dry” town. There were no bars. No restaurants served alcoholic drinks. If one wanted to drink alcohol it could only be purchased at the State Store.

“Would you and Charie like to come with us to the club and have a few drinks?”

“Yes,” I replied, wondering what the word “club” meant.

Both John and Penny seemed relieved at my answer. “You and Charie are the only people in this church who are close to our age. We would really like to get to know you better.”

As we were also looking for friends we were pleased at the invitation by such an attractive young couple. “So,” I said, “If we want to go drinking does that mean we have to go across the river into Ohio?”

“We can do that if you want,” John said. “But we belong to a club that allows drinking. Would you guys like to go there with us Saturday night? We could go out to dinner first then to the club afterward.”

Looking forward to the evening we were excited that we might have something in common with this attractive couple. Both of us were young adults in the midst of a middle aged world. I never mentioned it to Charie but I couldn’t help looking at Penny in a lustful way. She had such wonderfully round breasts. I couldn’t help but imagine how they would look in the raw. Larger than Charie’s they appeared to be perfectly formed; I imagined large, walnut sized nipples surrounded by wide areolas.

Although it seemed strange not being able to order wine with meals the restaurant was delightful. We talked about how we met our spouses, the fact that neither of us wanted children until we had been married at least five years and about how stuffy the church congregation seemed to be. Charie brought eye-rolls and giggled when she said, “Reverend Haglin and his wife Bertha are so fat that I wonder if they’re able to have sex.” Even without alcohol our laughter made us completely at ease together. We looked forward to going to the club for drinks, hopefully to get a little buzzed.

The “club” concept in dry states was entirely new to us. Like many southern states at the time West Virginia wasn’t peculiar in that way, there were a couple of “key clubs” in town. Key clubs were private bars where you could bring your liquor which you had to buy at the State Store and drink on their premises. These places offered a personal locker where each member kept the liquor that had been purchased at the State Store. The club was a comfortable, candlelit room with white table cloths and background music. John handed the key to the waiter who took it to the Chapman’s personal locker, opened it then took the personally labeled bottle to the bartender. The bartender would mix the drink and the owner of the bottle was charged for the cocktails. It was a bizarre experience for us and I couldn’t resist making the comment, “I had a different opinion, John, of what a key club is.”

He replied, “You mean like the Playboy Club in Chicago?”

“Well,” I said, “when Charie and I were on our honeymoon in New York we went the Playboy Club there. You need a key to get past the door.” Both Chapman’s rolled their eyes and smiled. “My boss gave me his key. Actually it was just made of paper like a business card. But it was shaped like a key.” John and Penny were both wowed that we had actually been to the famed Playboy Club. But when I said that I had a different opinion of what a key club was I was referring to the kind of key clubs where couples meet in friend’s homes and mix their car keys in a bowl. Then the women are blindfolded. One by one they pick out a set of keys. If the keys belonged to their husband they had to put them back and choose another set. After all the keys have been chosen each woman went home with a man who isn’t her husband.

Charie kicked my leg and gave me a scathing look for bringing up such a risqué subject. To John and Penny she said, “My husband Gary has forgotten that the Chapman’s are people with whom we go to church ... who we hardly even know.”

But it was Penny who, ignoring Charie’s comment, seemed to get the conversation going when she said, “Do you think they have any of those key clubs in Huntington?” She laughed nervously and blushed.

Cautiously John glanced at her. Looking at us he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “My blonde wife.”

“I read a book about it,” Penny continued. “It seems funny but all of the characters in the book were normal people just like us. They were just curious what it would be like to go to bed with another person’s husband or wife. It’s probably something lots of people at least think of (she blushed). I mean I’m not suggesting that we ... I mean...” She shrugged her shoulders.

Charie cut off her in midsentence. “Well Penny, maybe if their husbands or wives were taking care of them in bed they wouldn’t be so curious.” Reaching for my hand she gave me a smug smile that was meant to make a statement about our sexual happiness as a couple.

As I was thinking, Sure Charie. You’re the one who after seeing a porno flick in New York keeps talking about being fucked by more than one man, John looked at me and I shrugged.

Penny wasn’t going to let it go. “I know it’s not considered normal in our society,” she said, “but maybe some people just need more. Or maybe they are just insatiably curious.”

Charie responded, “Curious Penny? Or are they just insatiable?” It put a hush on the conversation. She looked at me then at Penny then John, her face becoming pink.

“I meant,” Penny continued, “I’ve heard of women who are um nymphomaniacs, girls who just have to have lots of sex.” With a quick glance to her husband she went on, “I know that I shouldn’t be saying this to church members but have you ever looked at a man who just turned you on and you wished that you could have sex with him?”

John and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. He shrugged. I rolled my eyes. I was amazed that the conversation was going this way. Even though I was a bit uncomfortable though, I hoped it would continue. It was interesting and exciting.

John rolled his eyes again as he announced, “the blonde wife syndrome.”

Charie said, “I can’t imagine having sex with anyone else than my husband.”

I thought it sounded a little too defensive. She kept looking at me almost pleadingly. As she fidgeted with her hands it was obvious to me that Penny had struck a nerve. “Well,” Penny said, “I guess I shouldn’t have been talking this way Charie. We’ve only begun to know you and already I’ve managed to upset you.” While looking at John for forgiveness she said, “I apologize?”

The fact that her apology was in the form of a question made me think of the opening of the movie when the narrator said in such broad terms, And this is Cinerama.

That night when we went to bed Charie was distant. As we lay side by side I asked, “Did Penny really upset you that much honey?” She was silent. I didn’t want to say anything more to upset her.

We’d been still for so long that when she burst out I almost jumped. “You would HATE me Gary if I hadn’t said that I couldn’t imagine having sex with another man ... wouldn’t you?”

“You mean you’ve had those thoughts baby?” The way she always brought up the porn movie made me believe she had.

Silent for a long spell she finally gave me a sheepish answer, “Yes.”

I smiled to myself then said, “Well sweetie, I’ve thought of having sex with a lot of women but haven’t.”

“Guys are supposed to think that way honey,” she said. “For that matter you’re supposed to fuck as many women as you can get away with. I’m not saying that I agree with it. But Mother told me that most men are that way. I think Daddy might have been. But a woman can’t admit that to another woman, especially to another woman who she doesn’t even know. It would make her sound like a slut. I even feel sleazy talking this way. Do you hate me Gary?”

It seemed strange to me that penitence came after a full year of my wife talking about how she wondered what another man’s cock would feel like inside her. With all the conversation we had about sex at the club I was still aroused. But when Charie seemed so turned off by it I was reacting in self-defense. With my cock on the verge of a full boner I asked, “Who have you imagined having sex with sweetie?”

“You’re angry with me Gary aren’t you?”

Taking her hand I wrapped her fingers around my substantial erection and said, “If I were mad baby do you think that I would have gotten this hard?” The air from her nostrils washed my bare skin as she laid her head on my chest (I always slept in the nude). Taking a firm hold on my cock she began stroking it. But something bigger than my cock was on her mind. “You didn’t answer my question baby,” I said as she jerked my cock. In my mind the man sitting across the table from me earlier that night was spreading my wife’s legs and mounting her, sliding his cock in and out of her cunt.

Her voice was like a little girl’s who had done something wrong. It was as if she were confessing to her father. “I’ve been thinking a lot about John Chapman.”

Having held back any chance of ejaculation so hard while she had been stroking me I totally lost control and my balls let go with a force I hadn’t experienced since I was thirteen. As she lifted her face in the moonlight I could make out my glistening semen that was sagging from her dark hair to her forehead and dripping off her nose.

Stifling a sob her body went rigid and quivered as she gasped, “Oh darling. You’re excited about it TOO.”

It was Sunday morning and neither of us felt like going to church. Last night’s initial explosion was a preamble to a long and passionate night. Our sheets, all bunched and twisted were still damp from the soaking that came from the constant flow of our sexual essences. Charie’s hair, ordinarily soft and silky, was matted and stuck together like she had sculpted it with Mousse. The large lips of her pussy were red and puffy, almost raw. My penis was chaffed and burning, my testicles feeling like they had been squeezed in a vise. Our love making had been so greedy that we smelled like athletes after a long and hard fought contest. Saturday evening and the conversation that followed in bed led to wild animal that still had us both exhausted.

Since the porno shop in New York City Charie had been living with the constant curiosity of how another man’s hard cock would feel inside her. Having never discouraged the fantasy I never expected it to be more than that. But when fantasy touched the edge of reality the mere suggestion of swapping with real people sent us into passionate sex that we pursued with the wildness of savages after a fertility dance. Even though our conversation with John and Penny might have been just that, the raw lust we pursued all of Saturday night still left us with feelings of insatiability. Just the same, unable to deny our guilt we thought that by attending church perhaps some of our misplaced thoughts and desires would be curbed.

To a certain extent the coffee and hot showers alleviated our sluggishness but as we drove to church that Sunday morning we were groggy and worn out. Besides, the car seat was irritating our tender parts. We really needed to take the day off, lie down apart from one another and let our bodies recuperate from our sexual wounds.

When we came into the choir room John looked at us and cleared his throat, nudging Penny to look our way. Each smiled at the other with a guilty but hopeful curl of the lips. What the hell they were young too and they probably had a night like Charie and I just did. After what I was imagining about them from our discussion of the night before, whether it was true or not, participating in the choir had taken on a whole different aspect.

While sitting in the choir loft during Church I watched Penny play the organ. My eyes were fixed on the mounds beneath her robe. While she played I could see them bounce and wondered if her nipples were stimulated by the friction created by her robe against the fabric of her bra—if indeed she was wearing a bra. As my penis began to swell I cursed my eyes. We were in Church after all among the faithful in the process of worshipping God. When we stood to sing the anthem my plumped member touched my underwear and burned from last night’s chaffing sex. I was wearing silk boxers but to my wounded sexual package the fabric felt like sandpaper.

With both John and Penny it was business as usual. There were no looks or remarks that might indicate that the conversation last night had even taken place. After church though, John and Penny caught up with us in the parking lot. Penny’s mouth curled into a hopeful smile as her husband said, “We really enjoyed your company last night. Do you think you might like to do it again?”

“It was a great evening,” I said. Looking at Charie I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, her eyes riveting mine, “A great evening.”

Charie smirked as I added, “The conversation was fun; and uh ... quite ... er ... stimulating.” Both Charie and I blushed at the obvious reference to our wild sex after we parted.

With a sneer John asked, “Is that why you look like walking wounded this morning?”

Charie’s face resembled the bulb on a thermometer—deep red. “Wise ass,” I replied.

Giving her husband him a lovingly knowing look Penny took his hand and with a smirk said, “Maybe we just paced ourselves a little better Gary.” Her comment could have been considered sarcastic but it was just Penny being matter of fact. John gave me a shrug that suggested, see how it is?

There were still people in the parking lot. A knot of six people, older couples, were looking over at us and smiling. Under her breath Charie said, “I bet they’re talking about the cute young couples and how nice it is that they’re so friendly.”

Chuckling John said, “If they only knew what their choir director and his wife might be thinking about.”

To Charie, Penny asked, “Am I forgiven for speaking so inappropriately last night?”

With a tolerant smile Charie shook her head. “You were just sharing what was on your heart Penny.” Her cheeks colored a bit as she continued, “Actually, Gary and I talked quite a bit about what you said. I don’t know if I am ready to agree with all of it ... but we both thought you look at things with an interesting set of eyes.” She was posturing, trying to appear church-like both for Penny and for the knot of older couples that were watching us.

“I just don’t like being a phony,” Penny said. “I’m not suggesting that you are Charie. It’s just that when I feel comfortable with a friend I like to say what’s on my mind.”

John jumped in, “So ... shall we go to dinner again?” The two of them shared an expectant glance. “There’s another place on the other side of town (Huntington was a town of 80,000. The other side of town was just ten minutes away). It’s an Italian restaurant. We can finish off at the club again and...”

Holding up my hand I stopped him. I was hurting too much from last night’s sex to even consider the “and” part, whatever that might develop into. “Neither Charie nor I are feeling very chipper at the moment John. We’d love to go with you two but let’s discuss it later in the week; after we’ve had a better opportunity to get a better handle on things, ok?”