This was as good a time as any.
“I have someone I want you to meet. Her name is Elizabeth Moss.”
“Elizabeth Moss, Elizabeth Moss, oh, yeah, Liz Moss.” Cindy said. “Yes, I remember her. She was in several of my classes over the last couple years. Beautiful girl.”
“She thinks you’re gorgeous. She said she’d like to fuck you.”
“What? When did she say that?” Cindy asked, her face breaking into a wicked smile.
“Right after she fucked me. She came over to my van one night when we had some storms.” I began to tell her the whole story about our skinny-dipping and both the torrid and gentle sex we shared that night.
Cindy sat and listened for a while, and slowly began fidgeting in her chair. Suddenly, she stood up and untied her dressing gown, shrugging it off her shoulders. “We’ll finish this discussion in bed,” she said. “I want to know exactly what you two did, and I want to do the exact same things with you. Right now.” She turned and walked toward our room, her tasty ass swaying as she moved.
We did manage to duplicate the events of that night in my van. Cindy is a very skillful and energetic lover. She knows exactly what to do when to extract every bit of pleasure from me, along with every drop of cum. We finally slept after a long love-making session, the kind I had thought only well-practiced partners could enjoy.
I woke up spooned behind my wife, my morning wood wedged between the firm cheeks of her sweet ass. The feel of her skin on mine, the warmth of her buttocks on my genitals, made me reach around her to fondle her breast. With sleep in her voice, Cindy asked, “You didn’t fuck her ass, did you?”
“No.”
“You can do that while I sixty-nine with her. Invite her for dinner this weekend. Make sure she knows she’s spending the night, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Now let me suck you till you’re nice and hard and wet. I want you in my ass,” Cindy said.
* * * * * * * * * *
Friday night came, and Liz appeared at our door. She looked a little nervous, even though I had told her that my wife knew what we had done in my camper. Dinner was amazing, as usual when Cindy entertains, and she did her best to put Liz at ease by chatting with her throughout the meal. After dessert, we moved to the living room for drinks and more conversation. I lit a fire in the fireplace, while Cindy excused herself and went to our bedroom.
Liz sat on the couch, and when I was satisfied with the fire, I sat down next to her. “Liz,” I said, “you’ve seemed on edge all night. Are you having second thoughts about being here?”
She blushed a little and fidgeted, playing with the hem of her little black dress and crossing and un-crossing her slender but shapely legs. “I guess I’m just nervous about being in the home of a woman whose husband I’ve slept with. I never was with a married man before.”
Cindy returned to the room at that point, wearing a long, filmy black dressing gown. It was part of an ensemble I had bought her for her birthday a few years earlier, so I knew that under the gown she was wearing the matching baby-doll negligee and crotchless panties that she always wore when we were bringing a new woman into our lives. Cindy said, “I couldn’t help overhearing what you said, dear. I hope Paul told you that our marriage arrangement allows us to play with others. That is, as long as we share. Tell me, have you ever been with a married woman before?”