Everybody calls me Larry. That’s not as a short form of Lawrence either. It’s for Laramie. You see, the naming concept my parents used was to name us kids after the city where we were conceived. Mostly they knew, we moved a lot but not that much. Dad was a construction iron worker who chased the big jobs – he was what people in the trade call a boomer. I attended five different primary schools and two different high schools. I’m not going to mention the names of my two sisters and brother because they still go by their conception-city names.
So that day in the Corte Madera Village Right Aid store when I heard a somehow familiar female voice calling, I didn’t react right away. “Laramie, Laramie Shifter, wait!”
Turning, the first thing that caught my eye was a head of short cropped silvery blonde hair that somehow looked just as familiar as the voice sounded. Damn, but I really wanted to recall the name that went with it because at medium height, perfect body mass, reasonable tits and pretty face, she wasn’t one I wanted to pass up.
I was too slow. “Jeanne, Jeanne Gladstone! From San Anselmo!”
Then it started coming back. “Oh yeah, sorry.” And out popped the first lie I could dream up. “My mind was wrapped up trying not to forget the stuff I need to pick up.” Then switching back to the truth, I told her how glad I was to see her and show I cared. “Gee it’s great to see you. How are you Jeanne?”
“Oh fine, really fine. Well you know of course that Joe and I remarried.”
(When she said ‘Joe,’ lots of stuff came back. Like her affected pronunciation, for example pronouncing ‘Joe’ with two syllables instead of one, ‘Jeh-oh.’ Like ‘Joe’ was too short and it’d get more elegant if she drug it out. Or maybe she thought making his name longer would make his dick longer. But I really shouldn’t have held it against her because lots of Americans – especially women - do that. Maybe they think it sounds sophisticated. The other explanation is that Americans don’t give a flying fuck about English, after all the 21st century was not even a fifth over and they’d already elected two presidents who couldn’t speak two consecutive sentences of grammatically correct and coherent English.)
Of course I knew that she and Joe had remarried. A half a year or so after I’d drifted away from her, I was stuck in a dry spell and decided to try and go back. When I rang, a man answered and I reacted too slow; instead of hanging up, I’d asked for her. Surprisingly, he’d put her on. That’s when she’d told me that she and Joe had remarried. I’d quickly wished her luck and got off the line as quickly as I could.
Dare I hope that they were splitting again? My mind flashed back to her very pretty pussy, blonde pubic hair with a rare silver tone. When we’d met, her silver blonde hair struck me as being so rare that I figured she toned it. I found out different when her panties came off.
“Jeanne, that’s a phone call I won’t forget. Talk about a tense situation; your husband picking up the phone.” I couldn’t very well ask if the marriage was going better the second time around so I asked by making a statement. “Well, you seem happy so things must be going well. Like the second time is a charm.”
“We had lots of issues to work out but we managed to cover a lot of that while we were still dating – before we remarried. Like we shoulda done before we got married the first time. Say, Larry. You still don’t go by Laramie do you? I called ‘Laramie’ before so I’d be sure it was you. There’s nobody else in the world named Laramie. Anyway, if you got time, how about we go over to Boudin’s for a coffee and catch up on things?”
Disappointed that we wouldn’t be catching up on what I would have liked to catch up on, I almost told her a lie about being in a too much of a hurry to go coffee drinking. Well maybe she’d tell me some juicy gossip about common friends or better yet, herself – so I told her another lie. “Say that’d be great. Boy what a pleasant surprise running into you here.”
After we sat down and ordered, she didn’t waste any time asking if I was seeing anyone, like serious seeing someone. I decided to tell the truth and when she learned that I was unattached, she said she was sorry I hadn’t found someone. Her face told me she wasn’t all that deeply sorry.
I was having trouble thinking of what to say but Jeanne filled in nicely, beginning with reminisces of when we met and dated. “Remember where we met? That bar on Caledonia in Sausalito. What’s it called anyway? Fred’s or Ray’s or something like that. My divorce with Joe had just become final. I was really relieved to be single again. Anyway I never forget how you ambled up and started talking. I was there with my sister Nadia. On the way home she kept telling me I’d really fallen for you.” Then with a caring look, she asked if I minded the reminiscing.
I did but I wasn’t about to tell her because if she continued and got into details, she’d get to the part about our first and subsequent dates and I’d get a hard-on. So I just smiled and shook my head that I didn’t mind.
“Our first date, remember how you took me on a bike ride. I’d taken Rick and Carrie over to Nadia’s. Remember that apartment in Greenbrae where I was living then? We rode to Fairfax and got a pizza at some place on Broadway. I felt like I was finally living. I think I told you then that when we married, Joe and I were barely 21 and both virgins. It was like I went from parents to husband.”
I decided to chip in and maybe get her in a mood that would be to my benefit. “Yeah, I remember you told me that on your first night, neither you or Joe knew quite what to do. Lot’s of fumbling, false starts, things not working.”
“Oh God, when I think of all I told you on our first date! Well, that part is better now. That first night with him was really a disaster. Imagine, first he couldn’t get hard. Then when he finally got it up, I was too dry for him to get it in. I jacked him off and he came all over my belly. Then of course he couldn’t get it up anymore so we decided we sleep and try again in the morning. Except we didn’t sleep, just tossed and turned. In the morning we were too tired and he still couldn’t get it up. I think it was a few days before a penetration finally worked and then it was a big disappointment. That woulda been okay except the disappointments didn’t stop.”
“Well Jeanne, it sure wasn’t that way with us.”
“It sure wasn’t. You sure knew what to do. I was sopping wet before you even got my bra off. And the way you seemed to know I was ready.”
“Come on Jeanne, what made you think I seemed to know you were ready?”
“Simple. Right there in the living room of that Greenbrae apartment, you took down your jeans and shorts and showed me your hard penis. You know Larry, aside from Joe, you were the first guy I ever fucked.”
“Aside from Joe’s, mine was the first adult penis you’d ever seen.” This was my idea of reminiscing and I was going to push it as far as it would go. “You were really curious about my being circumcised. “
“Well I should have been. Joe wasn’t.” Then after a little giggle, she continued. “Still isn’t.”
“Bother you any – I mean going back to dealing with a hood?”
“Not with Joe. Look Larry, you showed me how things can be. After you drifted away, not all the guys who fulfilled my needs were cut. First couple were, but then there was Wayne - woodworking teacher from Novato. When his shorts came off and I saw the skin over the head, he noticed the look on my face. Real considerate guy. Went easy with me. Showed me how he washed it, let me play with it for a while. Showed me all the special ways to give head to a natural.”
“So now Joe’s benefitting from Wayne?”
“Oh you bet. But I had to work with Joe for a while. See, I never sucked him off the first time we were married. Never kissed it, never had it in my mouth. Now I’ve got him in my mouth every time – well not every time, but sure, pretty often anyways.”
“And you Jeanne. Look I don’t want to probe, but does Joe go down on you?”
“Oh yeah. When we’d dated a few times and things got intimate, that was the first thing he did. Before we fucked. Licked me from top to bottom. That first time, I thought he was gonna wear out my clit with his tongue.”
“Joe ever ask if you’d fucked anybody while you were single between the marriages?”
“He did but he didn’t actually need to. He’d asked friends, did a little spying, the kids mentioned guys who stayed overnight.”
“And he got past that okay?”
“At first he said he didn’t wanna hear about it. Then it changed. He couldn’t help noticing how I was better, more adventurous. Wasn’t long, he asked.”
“You mean like who, stuff that happened?”
“Joe wanted to know everything. Names, first names anyway; last names I wouldn’t give him. How big they were, whether they were cut or not, how many times they could get it up a night. I started wishing I’d had at a ruler and tape recorder in the bedroom. Wanted to know how we did it. Missionary, doggie style, standing, on the couch – all stuff like that. I shoulda had a camera.”
“So if I understand you right Jeanne, Joe knows all about me, size, circumcision, virility, hair on my chest, etc. Right?”
“Well yeah, right. That you like to get it out first, before you took my panties off. But not your last name. That I kept back. Like with all the others too.”
“So Joe would have a hard time tracing me? By the way does he hunt? Own a gun?”
“Larry, really! Joe’s not the vengeful type! And he’s not bitter at you, or any of the others. Actually, just the opposite. He sees that it’s better for him now. Like he’s benefitting from all you guys who fucked me between our marriages.”
Both of us were quiet for a bit. I broke the silence. “So all’s well that ends well.” I told her I was really glad it all worked out for her, and by extension for Joe as well. This time I wasn’t lying.
Before we parted, she told me how much she appreciated our conversation and hoped we’d meet again sometime. I gave her an open ended invitation answer by telling her where I worked and that she could reach me there if ever she needed to.
When she got up to leave, I reached over to shake hands but didn’t get up all the way. Jeanne may not be the brightest girl in town, but she knew some practical stuff. “Larry, it’s okay if you don’t get up all the way. Difference between boys and girls. I’m a little worked up too but my wet doesn’t make a bulge like your swelling does.” With that she turned and left. Sure that that was the last I’d see of Jeanne, I sat down and had another cappuccino while my erection subsided.
Not long afterwards, I met Carly, a girl working in the county assessor’s office. We got along well and started dating on a more or less regular basis. She liked outdoor stuff like me and we made bike trips and weekend backpacks together; even talked about skiing together come winter. Sex with Carly was decent and reliable if not mind blowing.
As the months went by, memory of the chance meeting with Jeanne slipped further and further to the back of my mind and I became more and more convinced it had been a one-of and I’d never see her again. The truth was that I couldn’t care less. Sure, sex with her had been great, she had a good sense of humor, and was easy to be around, but there was one big problem with Jeanne: Intellectually she was boring as hell, so boring that sometimes it really got me pissed off. If I’d learned something interesting and told her, she’d listen all ears. But if it was something I doubted or questioned and asked her what she thought, I’d get this blank look as she was trying to think up an answer that would sound good. Often as not her answers would show she hadn’t a clue about what I’d been talking about.
Then one Tuesday afternoon I returned from a meeting and the whole business with Jeanne resurfaced. As I entered our office, Dianne, our group administrative assistant handed me a note. “Lady called for you. Here’s the name and number.” Then with a smile and wink, she went on. “Didn’t wanna tell me what the problem was.”
Back at my desk, I looked at the note and then at the ceiling trying to decide whether to ring the number or pitch the note in the waste basket. I sure didn’t want a repeat of her husband answering the phone. On the other hand, maybe she got fed up with Joe again and would be available for a wild ride in the sack.
“Hello, Gladstone residence.”
“Oh Larry, I’m so glad you called. Great hearing your voice again. How are you?”
I wondered what her ‘How are you’ referred to. My health or my romantic status? “Oh I’m fine. Job get’s frustrating at times but still interesting.” Then I remembered that she didn’t have a clue what the county planning department did and couldn’t care less. “Been to the Sierra the last few weekends. Backpacking, peak climbing.”
That didn’t interest her in the least. “Larry wasn’t that a coincidence? Us meeting that afternoon in Corte Madera. It was such fun talking about old times. I really expected you to give me a call sometime.”
“Jeanne, the last time I gave you a call, your husband answered. I just didn’t want to put you in a bad spot.”
I expected her to tell me that they had re-divorced. Wrong! “Oh no, not at all. I told him about running in to you that day and that you might call.”
“Isn’t that asking for trouble? I don’t want to see your marriage go to hell again. For Christ’s sake Jeanne, imagine how Joe would feel answering the phone and it’s an ex-lover on the other end.”
“I imagine he’d feel honored if you called. Matter of fact, he wants me to invite you for dinner.”
I had to laugh. One of her strong points was a loony sense of humor. “Oh, and he’s going to cook while we make out on the couch?”
“No, I’m gonna cook. I took some courses and got a lot better at cooking.” Her lousy cooking hadn’t been the reason I’d drifted away, but I might otherwise have stayed longer.
“Of course. I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”
We arranged for me to come to dinner on a Friday evening and she said she’d send the two kids to her sister Paulene that evening. (Another reason for me drifting away was that her two kids were real pains in the ass – impolite, loud, always wanting attention, etc., etc.)
The rest of the week, all my idle-time thoughts were on how that dinner was going to turn out. At one point it even occurred to me that it could be a trap and Joe might shoot me. After all Jeanne hadn’t asked if I had a girlfriend to bring along. I seriously considered cancelling before assuring myself that something like that only happened to other people and then mostly on TV. Anyway, I was just too curious to miss meeting the husband I’d replaced and been replaced by.
Joe turned out to be very cordial and upon meeting me at the door, shook hands and said he was really glad I could come. The surprise was his size. A few inches shy of 6 feet, he must have weighed at least 250 pounds. It always interests me when I see mismatched couples and my dirty mind can’t help but picture them together naked and trying to fuck.
I handed him the bottle of Mondavi I’d carefully picked out.
“Larry, Jeanne’s busy with dinner, how about we have an aperitif before dinner?”
Naturally I didn’t turn him down but I sort of wished I had when he said we’d have it in his basement bar. But I was committed and saw no gracious way to get out of the situation. Jeanne must have overheard my hesitancy because she came out of the kitchen to tell me how proud Joe was of the basement bar that he’d DIYed. I wondered how a guy with so much blubber could DIY anything.
Downstairs, Joe took the position of the proud bar proprietor and beckoned me to take a seat at one of the four bar stools. “Larry, how about dry sherry? We got a really nice one from Woods Hollow.”
After cheers and a few sips I started relaxing. At first Joe and I chatted over mundane stuff like weather, traffic, our jobs and such. Then he broke the ice. “Look Larry, considering the whole situation of your having had a relationship with Jeanne, it couldn’t have been easy for you to come here this evening. I really admire you for being able to overcome what for lots of men would have been impossible.”
I more than returned the compliment and it was an honest one. “Joe, I think you’re the one who really had to overcome something. I mean, here you are in your own home having a drink with me, a guy who had an affair with your wife. Okay you two were divorced at the time but all this happened inside of the past year. I can’t think of any man I know who could be as big about this as you are. I know guys who can’t stand the mention of the husband before them or after them.”
“It was tough for a while after the divorce. I knew Jeannie was banging guys. I gather you were the first. I even stalked her, saw who was going in, what kind of car they drove, such stuff. Wondered what they were doing. Course I knew there was sex, just not how, how long and how often. Always wondering if they had a bigger one than me. All kinds of jealous shit like that.”
“Sounds like you got over it though. I have to admire that. Some guys just kill themselves with jealousy.”
“I had therapy. The shrink, a woman, got me to see that my jealousy was one of the reasons Jeannie left me. Once she got me to see that I had a jealousy problem, she tried using acceptance therapy to cure me. Like I just had to accept the fact that Jeannie was fucking other guys. In a way it’s comparable to the need people have for funerals. It brings closure and with closure, going on with life is easier. Or like when survivors insist on seeing the body in the morgue. When this lady shrink related closure with death to my situation, I couldn’t figure out what she was getting at.”
I said I couldn’t figure that one out either.
“Once a survivor sees the body, there’s no hope that the loved one is alive and they have to accept it. That’s closure. Her explanation of what was driving me nuts was that subconsciously, I was harboring hope that Jeannie wasn’t fucking anybody. But on a conscious level, I knew damn well that she to be fucking guys. She said I had to put my hope that she wasn’t fucking guys into the same realm with what was real and actually happening.”
“Joe, that sounds to me like some pretty deep shit. But did she give you a recipe to get everything in the same realm?”
“Oh that she did. I was supposed to picture the scene of Jeannie getting fucked and the more detail the better. That lent purpose to my stalking. I’d see the guys she was dating and then I could imagine the fuck scene better. I’d picture the scene of the guy with Jeannie, both naked in bed, rolling around, her playing with his dick, him with a couple fingers in her pussy, sweating, moaning, and finally she turns on her back, spreads her legs apart, raises her knees, and he plunges in. Having seen the guy’s face, I could picture him groaning out ‘OMG’ when he’d cum. Pretty graphic, huh?”
Realizing that he’d imagined me fucking Jeanne, I got a little uncomfortable – sweaty armpits, damp face. I hesitated asking the question but finally did. “These imaginings of your wife’s fuck scenes, they include me?”
“Of course. But with you, like with most of the others, I got some details wrong. I’d imagined her tugging your foreskin back and licking the head of your dick. But of course you’re circumcised so that couldn’t have happened.”
The question escaped my mouth before I remembered Jeanne telling me she’d related lots of details to Joe. “She told you all about ……..?”
“Sure, but you know that. That day you had coffee in Corte Madera, she told you, didn’t she? That I wanted to know all about the stuff she did with boyfriends.”
I let it go at that and pushed on. “So what did all this imagining details of Jeanne’s sex scenes bring you?”
“Nothing at first. But then after a month or so something changed, or rather I guess I’d changed. I started getting erections when I imagined her naked with a guy.”
I’d heard of the phenomena before. A guy imagines his sweetie pie screwing another guy and gets aroused. It happens, but Joe’s going from chronic jealousy to getting aroused by imagining his wife giving blowjobs and fucking another guy? That put him in another league! “Your therapist have anything to say about that? You did tell her didn’t you?”
“Oh yes. We had an agreement that I wouldn’t hold back and anyway she was the one who wanted me to picture – as vividly as I could - the scenes of Jeannie doing all kinds of stuff with boyfriends.”
“So was she satisfied when you told her how you got a boner imagining the scene of your ex getting shagged?”
“In part. She wanted to know if I jacked off afterwards. When I admitted that I did, she said that meant I’d conquered my jealousy and it would make sense to ask Jeannie for a date. At first maybe just for coffee. Depending on the outcome, then for something like dinner, a concert, or a show.”
That was when Jeanne called us to dinner. Before we went upstairs to join her, I told Joe I was really happy that he and Jeanne were able to get back together.
Over dinner the conversation started with the usual drivel of weather, traffic, Bay Area housing costs, weekend activities, jobs, etc., etc. Once those subjects got chewed over pretty well, Jeanne opened a subject that, in spite of the conversation I’d just had with Joe, made me sweat a little.
“Larry, Joe and I are really glad you were able to come tonight. Or maybe I ought to say willing to come tonight. We know it must be awkward considering the relationship I had with you.”
My protest that it must be tougher for them seemed to go right by her. “And Larry, Joe and I have lots to thank you for. See, it was you who got me out of all my hang-ups and taboos. Made me feel good doing stuff that Joe and I had never done. When Joe and I got together again, I helped him get into the stuff we used to think normal couples didn’t do. Ain’t that right Joe?”
After placing his hand over hers, he answered. “Sure is. Honey, you did really great - telling me about all the stuff you and Larry did.” He kissed her cheek and went on. “Telling it so well that I could almost see it happen.”
It seemed like Jeanne couldn’t wait to chime in. “Yeah and once you could almost see it happen, we were able to act it out together. God help me if I ever forget that very first time you went down on me. Did it just like Larry. Started out working my slit with your tongue, then holding it open and licking up and down. Just thinking about that first time you licked my clit gets me worked up.”
“Jeannie honey, are you getting damp? Right here with Larry at the table?” Without waiting for her reply, he leaned over to her and their lips met and stayed met as they went into a long passionate kiss. It was as if I wasn’t present. Joe’s hands were under the table and from her whimpers and heavy breathing, I had a pretty good idea where his hands were and what they were up to.
I had to pee and took my time. By the time I got back they had broken off, but their sweat-shiny faces and their cat-ate-the-canary expressions just about announced that both had just had an orgasm. I acted like there was nothing unusual and asked if I could help clear the table. Joe excused himself saying he needed to make a phone call. I knew better - it’s just not comfortable if your undies are all cummed up.
Jeanne took me up on the offer to help clear the table. On my first trip in with a stack of plates, she had her hands busy scraping leftovers into Tupperware boxes. As I got near to set the plates on the countertop, she turned her head toward me with an expectant look and lips slightly parted.
I set the dishes down and bent towards her before remembering to get myself under control. “Jeanne, Joe could walk in any second.”
She gave me a funny look and replied, “No he won’t.”
It took me a few seconds to catch on. Then my right hand went to the back of her head and the left to her waist and my lips to hers. Our lips seemed to gobble each other and as our tongues intermingled, the coppery taste wafted in my mouth. I didn’t even realize she had put down the stuff she was working with until I felt her hands on my shoulder and on the back of my neck. My left hand went down to her rear end and under her dress where I expected to grasp perky ass cheeks covered with silk panties. Wrong! Her ass cheeks were bare!
She shuffled her feet apart as my hand worked its way to a well prepped female sex. I broke off the kiss to whisper in her ear. “Did Joe finger you when I went to pee?”
“Even before you went to pee. But I didn’t cum until you were gone.”
“Did you bring him off?”
She answered in an huskier voice than before. “Also after you left.”
She sighed as my finger went into her very slippery vagina. I looked around the kitchen and eyed a small breakfast table with some food prep stuff on it. “Jeanne, maybe we need to clear some stuff off that table.”
Fairly out of breath she nixed that. “No need. We’ve a big queen size in our bedroom. More room, lots more comfort.”
“Joe gonna be there too?”
“He needs to finish clearing the table, doing the dishes. Maybe some prep work for school tomorrow.”
I was about to ask or say something and she stopped me. “Enough talk!”
We had no sooner entered the bedroom and Jeanne was all over me, hands behind my head and neck, lips crushing mine and one knee up against my thigh. We exchanged tongues, the coppery taste was unmistakable – our genitals would soon be intimately reacquainted.
Again my hand went down and lifted her dress from behind. Damn but her taut ass cheeks felt good! My other hand lifted her dress in front and quickly found her wet slit. She trembled, her breath quickened. When one of her hands went down into my pants and found my hardness, she couldn’t contain her joy. “God almighty, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Then her other hand joined the first and I felt the motions of unbuckling and unzipping, which were immediately followed by the airy feeling of my jeans and undies having been pulled down. Then holding my ball sack with one hand she held my penis and stroked it slowly.
I broke off the kiss and looked around the room to the bed. Her answer to my unasked question was: “Yes, let’s.”
My pants and undies were at my feet so I had to shuffle walk to the bed. When we got there, I unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. We both flopped down on the bed, sitting until I got my shoes and socks off and my jeans and undies out of the way. Then I eased her down on her back and spread her legs so I could gaze at her beautiful silver blond pussy. “Jeanne, I’m really glad you’re not into this crazy bare pussy shit.”
“Oh Larry, show me how much you like it!”
I dove down and ate her out completely, first licking the sides of her slit up and down, then further in up and down, lingering on her clitoris while I fingered her - upping the ante to three fingers. Then the familiar scream as she grabbed the sheets and thrust her groin hard into my face so hard that my face got thrown out of that slimy female heaven.
I slid down a little and was repositioning myself when she interrupted. “Larry, let me look at you before we fuck.” I knew what she meant by ‘look’ so on my knees straddling her torso, I moved to her welcome lips and she eagerly took it, one hand holding the shaft, the other holding back her hair so I would be able to watch her as she kissed, licked and took me in to the comfort limit. (Jeanne never was a deep throat type, just a girl who liked giving head – comfortably.)
Had she continued longer, I would have cum in her mouth. I knew, from experience, that Jeanne was anything but adverse to fellatio orgasm. This time though, wanting the explosion to be in her vagina, she backed off well in time. To this I had no objections; I’d had any number of dreams, day and night, of feeling my glans bushwhacking through that beautiful silver blond forest and then getting enveloped in her warm vaginal folds.
There was a whimpering moan of pleasure as I entered her, so loud that I couldn’t help thinking of Joe who most certainly couldn’t help hearing, wherever he was in the house. I had to remind myself that he knew what we would be doing and suddenly realized he might be right out in the hallway listening in. When Jeanne started exercising her vaginal muscles, I stopped caring where Joe was or what he was doing.
Jeanne is what I call a happy fuck. She takes it easy, we talk, we kid, we laugh. It’s only during the home stretch when I’m pounding away at record speed, she tenses up and then announces her magic moment by opening her mouth and moaning or screaming – one or the other, never the same. This time she screamed, the scream being almost like from a jungle bird. Joe could have heard her if he’d been in his car driving away.
Afterwards we lay close together talking. She wanted to know about Carly. Was she pretty? Did she have big titties? What did she do for a living? Then finally she asked what I think had really been on her mind. “Do you and Carly do it with other couples?”
Of course we hadn’t. I told her we hadn’t been together long enough that the subject would even come up and then moved the conversation away from me. “Jeanne, when you invited me, us fucking was the last thing I thought would happen. You used to say – complain actually – that Joe was ferociously and irrationally jealous.”
“Well that therapy he had, it changed that. Changed it big time. When we got back together, he started asking about, like we told you, asking about the sex I’d had with my dates. When I did, he’d get hard. It was really something. Like the more detailed my story, the more it’d excite him.”
“Did you two plan on this? Us going to bed together?”
There was this funny sheepish look of guilt on her face. “You’re not mad at me for that, or you?”
I answered by smothering her lips with mine. When that turned into frantic slurpy tongue exchanging, I started playing with her tits. She broke off the kiss long enough to ask if Carly’s tits were bigger than hers. Having had my share of girlfriends with less than handful-size tits, I’ve got a good sized repertoire of small tit assurances. Jeanne was satisfied as she’d always been when we were dating.
We had a nice long pleasant fuck with both of us going off, well if not together, close enough for mutual satisfaction. Afterwards we hugged for a while, talked and finally fell asleep, bodies more or less together.
My sleep must have been pretty deep because when I woke up, my mind was in a state of confusion. The room was completely dark and I was alone in a bed that felt strange. Slowly the dinner and being in bed with Jeanne started coming back. My tousled brain even questioned whether the sex we’d had might have been a dream. The mousy smell of sex told me it was no dream. Indeed Jeanne had been in this bed with me and we’d started catching up on all the sex we hadn’t had since splitting.
But where was Jeanne? Then that seemed not to matter but my having to piss did matter. Having pissed right after dinner, I knew the bathroom was a few steps down the hallway. While pissing I got more and more conscious and wondered where she’d gone. Only then did I remember that her husband Joe was home and figured she’d gone to him. Resigned to that, I figured I’d just go back to bed and at least get what sleep I could.
Going out in the hallway, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a couple copulating; box spring and mattress groaning in a certain rhythm, grunts and groans and lots of endearments and oh-my-God’s. There was a time when it would have upset me to have a girl I’d just boffed go down the hall and get boffed by another dude. But I’d grown up since then and anyway, what the hell, they sure were entitled to fuck; it was their house and they were married to each other. Their fuck sounds were getting pretty intense but I thought they shouldn’t keep me from sleeping. However, turning towards the master bedroom where I’d fucked Jeanne and been sleeping in, my voyeur streak took hold. Maybe a little listen; or what the hell, maybe even a little peak? I hadn’t watched a couple fuck since one crazy night when I was in high school.
Feeling my way on the walls, I tiptoed along the hallway until I came to a door, partly open and where the thumping and bumping, the endearments and OMG’s seemed to be coming from. Mattress thumping, springs squeaking you expect when a couple is getting it on, but what was the bumping? Damn but I really needed to peak. The bedside lamps were on and since I’d been tiptoeing in a dark hallway, I was initially half-blinded. I was expecting to not see much more than Joe’s big fat ass cheeks bouncing up and down with Jeanne’s legs sticking out the sides. Then my pupils adapted and there was Jeanne with her head towards me and bent over, her rear end hammering Joe’s crotch, his big fat legs hanging down over the edge of the bed. Earlier that evening, I’d wondered how they did it. Now I knew. Modified doggy with Jeanne providing most of the kinetics.
I was so taken with the whole scene that I didn’t notice that Jeanne had seen me. When I realized she had and acknowledged it, she winked and flashed me a naughty smile. My return wink was intended to tell her to have fun and later, she told me that’s exactly how she understood it.
A true voyeur would have stayed to see one or both go over the top. I don’t have that much voyeur in me so I backed away from the open doorway and tiptoed back to the master bedroom and was soon asleep in the big queen bed.
When I awoke to faint light coming in from outside, I was no longer alone. Slowly I put back together all that had transpired in the night. That she was back in bed with me after the session with her husband could only mean one thing: She was up for another toss. Question was: Was I up to it?
Waking up, she snuggled up to me and felt my dick. “You need a little more time, don’t you? It’s okay Larry, we got time.” We smooched a little and then she went on. “When you peeked in on us last night, didja enjoy the sight of me backing up on him?”
I stuttered a little and then recovered. “Had to pee. Heard something and went to see.”
“Larry, how come you didn’t stay to see us cum?”
“Didn’t think it’d be polite to be so nosy. Fucking’s one thing, cumming’s more intimate.” She found that hilarious so I pushed the humor further. “Okay, next time I’ll stay and watch the main event.”
Up until then, I’d wondered about the meaning of her earlier question about whether Carly and I were doing it with other couples. Now I knew she had in mind more than modified threesomes like the foregoing night.
There were some other things I didn’t know and was curious about. “Jeanne, you and Joe seem to get it on pretty good together – at least that’s how it looked to me. Why invite me over to fuck you?”
“I told you about the therapy where he had to visualize me getting fucked by other guys. Well that helped us by helping him get over his manic jealousy and improve his sex drive. You gotta look at it like a lot of medicines and therapies. Some wear off and need to be repeated from time to time.”
Were I a cynical ass hole, I would have fired back asking if I was just another therapy tool. However, ‘burning bridges behind’ you might be a legitimate military strategy, but it is a piss poor way to get laid when you really need to get laid. (A guy needs to remember that he might want to go back.) I played the helpful friend instead. “Well Jeanne, I hope what I did was of some help. You know you can always count on me whenever the therapy needs refreshing.”
“Oh it helped alright. You saw Joe and I really going at, didn’t you?”
I tried to put things in perspective. “Sure, but don’t lots of couples really go at it?”
She shot right back. “Yeah, but lots of couples don’t have a guy with a BMI of 37. And what you saw was our second go round.”
The part about the second go round surprised the hell out of me. “You two did it twice last night?”
This time her answer really blew me away. “No we didn’t do it twice. We fucked three times. If you’d stuck around to watch us cum instead of tiptoeing back to our bedroom, you’d have gotten to see!”
Well, she had me there. I needed to change the subject. “Say Jeanne, when we were dating, you never mentioned that Joe was so heavy. Tonight my eyes liked to popped out when I walked in.”
“Joe had a pretty decent BMI when you were dating me. That changed after I took the cooking course.”
“Makes sense. If you hadn’t told me, I’d have thought it was his increased sex drive.”
She found that hilarious and was still laughing when she climbed on top of me and guided me in. We had a good go round, really good, again like old times, humping madly, laughing, joking, slurpy kissing. We didn’t cum together and that was a good thing because we got to enjoy watching each other go through the thralls of orgasm.
This time I woke up dreamily to Jeanne shaking me. Through squinting eyes, I saw Joe standing at the foot of the bed. “Hey you two lovebirds, coffee’s ready but I’m not gonna put the eggs on till you’re on the way to the kitchen.” He turned and headed for the door. Only when he turned around did I notice that he wasn’t wearing a stitch. “Oh by the way, at breakfast this morning, it’s clothing optional.”