I am sitting alone, still enjoying ripples of an orgasm, when my husband comes back. He has our car keys and doesn't look very pleased.
"Maybe you're right. All this swinging is for people not like us." He passes me my coat. I'm surprised it was right where I had left it, folded neatly on the seat next to me.
Taking my hand, something he hadn't done in a very long time, he led me to the back door and the parking lot. He opened my door first and waited for me to get inside the car before closing the door for me. It was nice.
On the way home he talked about the woman he had ended up with. She was older than she had looked, wore a lot of make-up and he didn't really like her eagerness for the swinging scene. Three children later and my husband still likes to think he is the sexual guru in our relationship. My disinterest in sex hasn't really bothered him, other than being an inconvenience at times.
"It's funny, but you smell like sex." He says.
"So do you." I reply.
"I guess so, we were both there after all. Want to stop for a coffee? Make it a bit more of a night out?"
Drive through coffee because neither of us feels like getting out of the car yet. He feels out of sorts and me... I'm just feeling content and languid.
I take the coffee cup and notice the bit of paper I've had in my fist all this time. He notices too.
"What's that?" He asks.
I open it and then push it into my purse. "Someone gave me their phone number."
"And you're going to keep it?" He says, startled, a little annoyed.
"Well, I don't want to litter in the parking lot. I'll find it the next time I clean out my purse and toss it out then."
He seems satisfied with that, more or less. I say nothing more about it.
At home I leave him to pay the babysitter and check on the kids, lock up the house and all those other rituals. I strip off my dress in the bathroom. My panties are gone and I'm surprised he didn't notice my boobs swinging around half in and half out of my open bra. But, I'm the good wife, he only looks at me that way once in awhile.
My clothes go into the laundry basket. I stand looking at my naked reflection in the bathroom mirror while waiting for the shower to get hot. Tonight I want a hot shower. I don't want anything cold touching me, taking away the feeling of being touched by strong, knowing, and patient hands. My pussy is still leaking. It feels strange after all this time. But, I like it. I'm even a little proud, or maybe it's defiance.
His idea to go to a swingers party, not mine. His idea to leave me sitting there, the good wife. I didn't look for anything, other than a cocktail or two. I forget what they were called now.
Stepping into the shower, the steam rises around me and the hot water pours over me. I wash away the evidence while I relive the encounter.
A kiss at the back of my neck. Strong, big fingers stroking my back, making me feel like a purring cat. Something he whispered near my ear that I didn't really understand. Hands on my hips, under my dress, my panties slipped down. I felt a tall, wide, male body pressed against my back. Then he gently pushed me to lean forward. His fingers just a little cold but quickly warming between the lips of my pussy. Playing with my clit, slow and then a little faster and then slowing right down again as I started the first wave of orgasm. Slowing, slower and so slow I thought the orgasm would stay at the pinnacle of just starting forever. Crashing, thudding and trembling inside of me, so strong I hadn't even noticed he was gone and I was alone again.
Another orgasm in the shower. My husband coming down the hallway to our bedroom and our king sized bed, the best way to share a bed while not sharing anything.