Open Marriage Chronicles - Florida Heat

    This is the the first of a series of events covering one and one half years of our married life.  Each story is essentially true, just as it happened.  All names have been changed.

By BILL

    We were vacationing on Florida's west coast when I suggested to Ellen that she should date others. In 8 years of marriage, we'd had no serious arguments, but now she was irritated.

    We were discussing this a half hour before sunset while we were in our swimwear,washing our Porsche on the narrow strip of grass separating the rented house and the beach. She calmed down, then laughed, convinced that this wasn't a ploy to allow me to fool around. She'd been so opposed to the suggestion that I was surprised when she finally caved in, agreeing, "Okay, I'll consider it, Bill. But it's a dumb idea."

    I breathed like I'd just run a mile and said, "All I ask is that you tell me about the dates." She smirked doubtfully, but her eyes were telling me that her anger had been replaced by an excited imagination.

    Before we married, Ellen had been a beachwear and cosmetics model. A daughter of a Presbyterian minister, she doesn't smoke and had never drunk alcohol. Thanks to dieting and Bally, her measurements are the same now as when I met her. She's 5'8", has shoulder-length black hair, the rare color of brilliant, gray eyes, and a figure that turns the heads of both sexes.

    Here, in her white string-bikini, she looked even more appealing.  The car now shined like new. I was lifting the portable vacuum when we glanced toward a young blond man, his fist gripping a sketch pad as he walked up from the beach. He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt with epaulets and khaki safari slacks. He introduced himself as Greg, an art student at a local college.

    He asked directions to a nearby diner. With his tall, lithe body and tanned face, he looked more like a surfer than an artist. Bending to pick up the chamois and her white hip-length terry robe, Ellen smiled as she appraised Greg's handsome features.

    Her nervous blush looked like a advanced case of sunburn. She tossed me a quizzical nod.  I picked up her cue and grinned toward Greg, "We haven't eaten either." Turning to Ellen, I blurted, "How about inviting this starving student over for dinner?"

    Ellen beamed as she agreed, enthusiastically, "Terrific idea," and turning to Greg, offered, "How about lobster?"

    He declined politely, but upon Ellen's urging, decided she was sincere, and nodded affirmatively, "I love lobster, thanks." I walked behind Greg, his gaze following Ellen's tall beach robed figure up the pebbled flagstones to the back door.

    In the dimly lit kitchen, Ellen slipped on her white high heeled pumps, accentuating her long legs.  Although shy, Greg turned frequently to look at her as she prepared dinner.

    He was living with two roommates in a rented duplex two blocks from the college.  He knew little about sports, and I knew little about art, so the conversation was strained until Ellen joined us.

    After dinner, Ellen took a shower, then returned in a low cut dark blue robe to sit on the floor between me in a chair and Greg on the couch. She was wearing nothing beneath the satiny material that clung to her body, contouring her nipples.

    I set chips and dip on the rattan coffee table and opened a bottle of white wine for Greg and me and a diet drink for Ellen.  There was no mistaking the sexual electricity irradiating between them.

    Their eyes locked as they exchanged stories of their lives before Florida.  His gaze fell now and then to her bared leg and to the smooth, midnight blue material that exposed the pale sides of her breasts. Occasionally a word would catch in their throats. Both swallowed in excitation when their hands brushed as she offered him potato chips, her hand lingering to touch his. Because Greg was lean and hardened, I doubted that he usually ate snacks; but now, he didn't refuse any, allowing him another opportunity to caress her hand.

    She asked him to teach her some basic sketching rules, suggesting that they do so in what Floridians would call the "Florida room." In Long Island, we would call it a den. She preceded him into the room, tuned the stereo to a soft FM station, then came out to search for a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She whispered her plan, then returned to Greg, closing the door.

    As she suggested, I slipped out of the house, drove the car a block away, locked it, and sprinted back to an area between the darkened hedge and the Florida room's broad shuttered window.  All other lights in the house were now turned off. The summer heat had allowed us to keep the glass shutters open, so I could hear everything they said.

    I was wondering how she'd handle champagne as I watched her sipping from her half empty glass as she curled alongside him on the couch. Their conversation diminished to whispers and soft laughter. She glanced beyond the window but was unable to see me in the darkness. Turning to Greg, she pursed her lips and inquired, "Do you like to dance?" When he murmured something about not knowing how to "slow dance," she playfully offered to teach him.

    He accepted. A soft glow bathed the room, and she held out her hand, beckoning him. They swayed together, her cheek brushing his.

    He stroked her hair. He held her for moments after the second song had ended, then turned away to drink the last of the champagne from his glass.

    Ellen's face was flushed now, her soft lips trembling with passion as she danced slowly with Greg. She swallowed nervously, glancing to his engorged cock surging beneath his slacks. Another melody drifted from the stereo.  She closed her eyes as he reached for her. The tips of her fingers traced a sensuous path down his neck. Her tremorous mouth formed an "oh" as her lips touched his. Ellen's hips gyrated in eager passion.

    Greg opened her robe, sliding it from her shoulders. Her nipples were erect.  Her body trembled in excitation as the robe fluttered to the floor. She blushed as he pulled her to him, his lips crushing hers. Ellen's hands tremored as she removed his shirt. Her legs shaking, she sank to her knees to unbuckle his belt. She pulled his slacks down his long legs, her full lips brushing his chest and stomach.

    As she did, his cock burst free. On her knees, staring intently as Greg's cock swayed before her, she looked like a sacrificial virgin worshiping at a serpentine altar. Shuddering, she licked her crimson lips. Her full pale breasts were rippling with passion. I could feel the desire radiating between them as her mouth strained to encircle his shaft that was curving up from the tuft of blond pubic hair.

    Ellen was moaning; her hips were rolling back and forth like waves on the beach. Greg gaped at his glistening cock as the fullness of her lips glided along its length. As he glanced to the pulsing blue numbers of a shelftop's digital clock, he asked, "What if your husband returns early from work?"

    She muttered, her soft voice quaking, "He won't. He works near Tampa Bay and won't be home until eight in the morning." He lifted her from the floor, then lowered her to the couch, tasting her melon-like breasts. He sucked each firm, reddened nipple until they stood out like spikes. Her face was burning, her breath hissing like a radiator. Ellen pressed her breast's soft ripeness against his face, her cries of pleasure piercing the room's air. She squeezed his cock, its purple, bulbous head surging beyond the breadth of her small fist. Mewing in ardor, she had forgotten that I was watching.

    My shaft was now as hard as his as I unzipped and pulled it from my slacks, pumping slowly. He pushed her legs apart.  Her pale coral mound pulsated. I realized then that she'd shaved her pubic hair while in the shower.

    His lips grazed her swollen clit, causing her body to shimmy as she rotated her smoothness against his mouth. He moved up her body until his tongue was twirling against hers. My chest heaved in excitement as he mounted her. Her body shivered, her eyes following the downward path of his shaft. Her eager pussy quivered upward to touch the intrusive member. She moaned, tears of pleasure pooling in her eyes as his broad cock-head pushed through her creaming pussy folds. Her fervid tunnel now engulfed his shaft as she hissed, "Oh Greg!  I'm on FIRE!" Her tremoring thighs caressed his back, reeling him in. And then, she was wailing with lust as he pistoned deep within her. Ellen thrashed her head from side to side. Her hips swirled as she reveled in his heated fucking.  Swinging her legs around his shoulders, she pressed her back against the cushions, squealing, her eyes glistening with tears. Her face registered pleasure with each steaming entry of his cock. Her voice quavering, she moaned, "Oh God! Greg! I've never felt like this!"

    Thrusting into her pussy, Greg was immersed in the culmination of their lust. His jaw slackened. His chest heaved as he looked down on her rolling eyes. He moaned unintelligible noises I could remember making as a young marine with women who were never as gorgeous as Ellen! I couldn't have imagined fucking a woman that beautiful! A MARRIED woman!

    Her body shivered. Unable to take her eyes off the cock sliding into her shaved pussy, she cried, "Oh, Greg, I LOVE your cock! I love fucking you!" I was drugged with a time-stilling sensation as she rolled, pulling Greg beneath her. Straddling him, she slowly impaled herself on his cock, her fiery well of passion sucking in his long, steaming poker.  Gaping at her pussy folds enveloping his firm cock as she bucked against him, Greg murmured, "Yes, Ellen, I love it too! I love fucking YOU!" I now leaned against the window so closely, I could smell the perspiration steaming from their inflamed bodies. I was stroking my elongated member in rhythm with my heart, which was thumping like a sledgehammer.

    Greg disengaged, pushing Ellen to her knees on the carpet, mounting her from the rear. She reached behind, allowing her fingers to stroke his length. Feeling his hardness, she cried out in yearning! Bracing her arms against the carpet, she spread her knees to accommodate his cock as it entered her pussy. She gasped. Her mouth and eyes widened as he pushed deeper. Ellen shuddered, aflame with desire. Her voice quaking, she pleaded, "Oh, Greg! Give it to me! I need your cock!" With tears streaming down her cheeks, she pleaded for every inch of his cock, slowly thrusting its way deep within her lubricated pussy. Her eyes were wild, her body flaming in a crimson blush.

    But when he had sunk his shaft its full length, she wailed, "Oh, YES! Greg! YES-S-S-S!" Now, as they united in blazing passion, she was moaning.  They were thrashing about like demons.  The yolks of her eyes rolled.  She fucked back against him wildly in long strokes, shuddering as his balls slapped the mounds of her buttocks. I'd never seen Ellen so overcome with lust!

    The sheer joy of watching them was incredible! Until that night, I'd never heard my wife swear, but now, white hot with passion, she was brazenly pleading, "Oh, God! FUCK me! FUCK me, Greg!" Ellen was rolling her head in wide circles.  Her eyes told me she felt the onrushing orgasm that would soon overtake them. The smell of their sex permeated the warm night air.

    And then Greg, his face contorted, was shrieking, "I'm cumming, I'm CUMMING! Oh, GOD!" He lifted his head high and groaned, increasing his tempo. Her soft lips formed an "oh" with each entry. Ellen was positively radiant as she turned to look at him. His hips hammered the roundness of her buttocks. She matched his every thrust as she told him, "Oh God! It's so great, Greg! Cum with me! I love it! Oh, yes, I love it!" Her blissful moans registered the expectant orgasm.  Even Greg and I could feel the explosion building within her.

    And then it came! The sexual thunder was surging through them like an avalanche. She shut her eyes tightly as they sobbed in unison, their bodies and minds intertwined in cosmic eruptions.  I was cumming for what seemed an eternity. I hadn't realized how loudly I'd groaned until moments later when I saw Greg walking over to lean against the back of the couch to peer out the window. He was startled for a moment but then grinned, "I really didn't know you were still here. Was it okay?"

    He was asking for my approval, not whether I'd enjoyed it. I zipped my fly.  "I'd asked Ellen to give herself to you. I hope you don't feel used."

    He breathed, uncomfortably, "I've never had a greater gift." I believed him. I walked to the door. Ellen greeted me, her gray eyes ablaze in lust. Her breath huffed in short bursts as she removed my clothes. Grasping Greg's shaft, then mine, she led us to the shower. A dim light filtered through the door from the hallway. Beneath the pounding water, our mouths and tongues pleasured Ellen until the water heater gave up.

    Now, burning with desire, we toweled off and stumbled into our bedroom. Ellen took turns with us until, finally exhausted, she crawled to Greg, placed her elbows on his chest and looked into his eyes as if in worship. "I love you," she told him as she stroked my cock behind her.  "I love Bill, but I also love you.  Can you understand that?" I wasn't jealous of Ellen's comment.  Her revelation told me just how much the experience meant to her.

    I wish that I could say that we were with Greg many more times, but we left our vacation cottage the next day. A letter we'd mailed to Greg was returned, stamped, "Addressee has moved.  Current address unknown." However, that experience changed our lives. As things turned out, she met two other young men who reminded her a great deal of Greg - David who lives near us, and Brad who visited us from Long Island. But those are Ellen's story, and she wants to tell you herself.

 Bizarre as our lifestyle may seem to others, Ellen and I are as close as any couple I have known. The arrangement has had an interesting side effect: I haven't once considered cheating. Frankly, affairs without her couldn't be as exciting.

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