A New Way of Seeing Things Pt. 03 Ch. 22

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading, especially those who have been taking the time to vote and leave your comments. Constructive critique welcome!

Standard disclaimers.

This is a story about sexual exploration and, open relationships. Open relationships can and do happily exist; but they are not for everyone. If you do not believe it is at all possible for open relationships to exist without damage to any and all involved parties, please do yourself a favor and don't waste your time reading this.

Also, this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.

*****

Gwen was first into the shower, playfully dismissing Tim's attempts to join her in the too-small bathtub while she washed away the oil from her breasts and stomach. He waited patiently for her to finish before trading places with her to clean the slickness he had accumulated from his slide down her body.

Gwen stood looking into her overnight bag, idly pondering the merits of either the jeans or the sundress she had packed. The Lady's demands for some guilt or shame were proving to be a distraction, not so much for the acts themselves anymore, that rebuke had lost its effectiveness, but instead for her willing submission to another, even if it was her husband. Gwen had vowed to never again allow herself to be somebody's plaything after her experiences with Miss Ritter; The Lady pointedly reminded her that this broken promise only highlighted the weakness her growing perversion was exploiting.

For Gwen, the thought frightened her. She was the boss, the bitch with iron panties, always in control, but she had truly enjoyed letting go of that for a while and letting Tim have his way—just like Miss Ritter did, the Lady ominously reminded her.

It's not an all-or-nothing thing, the Slut countered. You let it go for a while—you just took a break, and it felt good. You can take back control any time you want. Try it! She smiled and reached for the sundress as a plan began to form despite the Lady's protests.

He's so attractive, Gwen thought as her naked husband walked out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. A handsome face and easy smile, muscular arms and legs, and while he didn't exactly have a six pack, his stomach and chest just made him seem so male, so masculine. Not to mention that beautiful thing swinging between his legs...it was sleeping now, the soft length hanging halfway down over his loose sac. She felt a pang of regret over taking so long to fully appreciate the man she had been blessed with on nothing more than dumb luck, and briefly reconsidered subjecting him to her plot before silently promising to make it worth his while.

As Tim feared, breakfast was over by the time they made it downstairs to check out, getting directions for a nearby place serving brunch the desk clerk swore by. They found it a mile down the road and were seated at a quiet table for two in the middle of the small dining room. "Nice dress," Tim noted as they waited for the server. "New?"

"From your daughter's closet. I don't think she even remembers it was there." It was a floral print, two not-quite spaghetti straps over her otherwise bare shoulders, the hem ending above her knee. Gwen had thought it too revealing when it had first been purchased, but it hadn't been her money...

Tim didn't look up from his menu. "Ali, or KD?" he asked distractedly.

She giggled. "Alison. Do you think my chest is even close to being up to the task of filling out something of KD's? I'd need a lot more...volume..."

Tim glanced about, guessing nobody could hear or was paying attention to their conversation. "Yours are perfect just the way they are," he volunteered softly, his voice dropping to a rumble. "Perfect for looking at, and...other things."

"You don't think they're too small?"

"They're perfect." he repeated, returning his attention to the menu, trying to decide between waffles or eggs. Gwen Nelson talking about her tits in the middle of a busy restaurant, he thought with a smile and shake of his head. Ain't things crazy.

Their orders placed, Gwen bent to pick up her napkin she had dropped alongside the table while the young waitress had been asking Tim about his choice of potatoes. His eyes widened as he watched her bend at the waist, waiting until she had sat back up before leaning across the table towards her. "You're not wearing a bra," he whispered, more of a statement than a question.

Gwen leaned forward to meet him halfway. "I'm not wearing any underwear at all," she whispered back. "Is that alright? Should I go out to the truck and get some?"

"NO—no," he grumbled even as his eyes glanced downward to see if she was exposing herself even now. "But I thought we were stopping at Outdoor Outfitters on the way home?"

"You said you wanted to, right? You were looking for some new lures?"

"Well, yeah, but there'll be a lot of people there..." he glanced meaningfully at her chest.

"Then I'll just have to be careful, right? It'll be just between us. But if you change your mind, I do have clean underwear in my bag..."

He smiled. "No sense adding to the laundry."

Tim's appetite was not diminished in the least by the secret he had been let in on, although he did eat with one eye on the other diners, wondering if some of them might have already caught a glimpse of something they shouldn't have. He did his best to pay attention while Gwen firmed up some of the expansion plans started at dinner the night before, thinking how much she looked like your typical Sunday morning soccer mom— a classic Southern belle if she had been with the kind of man she was supposed to have married, he reminded himself—and yet nothing about her gave the other diners any clue that only a thin layer of floral print fabric prevented her from being exposed as someone not quite so prim and proper. His glances about the room occasionally stopped on some of the other women, wondering if they were dressed similarly, if they too had secret sides known only to a lucky few...

To his disappointment she was indeed careful all through their meal and then out to the truck, delicately climbing into the passenger seat with legs closed enough to prevent an inappropriate peek while he held her door open. She successfully reversed the process in the parking lot of Outdoor Outfitters, "everything for the outdoor sportsman under one roof!" and took Tim's hand as he led the way into what before this weekend had been the only toy store he cared to spend time in. Gwen had been here before with him; it was a favorite stop of his whenever he was in the area. She remembered the layout of the immense building and could believe the slogan, a main floor complete with stuffed hunting trophies scattered about a mountain pond stocked with fish. Second and third floors opened out onto the view of the first below, balustered railings lining the balconies above the atrium. The throng of customers always struck Gwen as a curious mix of men and a surprising number of women, urban professionals shoulder to shoulder with the more rural residents of the state, "rednecks," as some of them proudly proclaimed themselves, and she could understand how hunters and fisherman—and her husband-could easily spend an entire day here moving about the various displays, demonstrations and seminars..

"What time you want me to meet you?" Tim asked after they paused just inside the entrance. Gwen had always set him free to wander for a set period of time while she sat in the café towards the rear of the main floor, instructing him to meet her there once his allowance of time was up.

Gwen smiled. "Can I go with you? I promise to let you look as long as you want. But if you think I'll be in the way..."

"No, you can come with me if you want," he replied quickly before she could change her mind. "Might be pretty boring for you, though." Tim led the way through the clothing displays between the entrance and the open wooden staircase that rose in an arcing sweep up to the second floor and everything fishing. She looked down at the shoppers below as she climbed, guessing the design of the stairs might allow them a quick glimpse up a skirt or dress if a girl wasn't careful. I would have settled for a thong, the Lady grumbled, certain the perverts below had worked out well in advance exactly where and when to look up. Gwen took her time, each step deliberate as she looked about, Tim keeping pace. He had guessed at the view from below as well and made note of her slow climb.

Gwen had been on the second floor once before to collect Tim when had forgotten the time and the amount of things invented by mankind to catch a fish amazed her now as it had then. They wandered together through the racks of poles and shelves of lures, line and nets, clothing and coolers. Tim's attention was been split between the latest in fishing technology and his less than fully-clothed wife, watching as she wandered from time to time out to the railing while he examined the advances made in line strength, wondering if someone might be discretely standing underneath her and looking up.

She patiently stood next to him while he kneeled in front of a low shelf, debating the merits of the frog-jig lure he held. A mannequin dressed in waders, flannel shirt and vest at the end of the row caught her eye and she smiled, imagining herself dressed in just the waders, wondering if Tim might find that sexier than lingerie. Or would he like just the vest, and nothing else...a giggle escaped her at the idea of fishing gear becoming the new naughty nightie and imagined modeling them at Cho's next party, or perhaps even at one of the many product demonstrations they gave at that little theatre downstairs...

Tim looked up from where he was kneeling. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." She turned away from him and bent over to retrieve something from the rack while he watched the hem of her dress rise higher and higher, the line of sight from where he kneeled perfect for seeing the first hint of a darker split nestled between firm thighs. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man to his left, the view from where he stood probably not as good but still enough for him to take note of the ass being presented. He caught Tim's glance and hurriedly returned his attention to the multicolored lures in front of him.

Gwen removed a plastic bag from a hanger near the floor, the clear plastic of the cylinder inside shot through with purple dots and ribbed in a spiral, a flat curl of rubber extending from one end. To Gwen, it looked like some sort of miniature vibrator. "This one's interesting," she said, straightening and turning back to Tim before needlessly bending over to show it to him.

He glanced at it only briefly, his focus on the dangling breasts now visible inside her loose top, certain the guy behind him could see them too if he dared another look. "Oh yeah, that's a spring grub. I have one like that."

"It looks like something they would have had at that other store yesterday."

"Uh, yeah, I guess I see what you mean. Did you want one like that?"

"Maybe next trip." Gwen squatted facing him, legs together but the dress riding high up the front of her thighs. "So many different colored worms," she mused, apparently unconcerned with the amount of exposed leg, looking at the rack. "They look like those gummy worms the girls used to like."

Tim laughed nervously, aware that his body was probably blocking the view from his left, wondering if the guy would risk an obvious move for a better look. "Yeah, I guess they do."

"I'm sorry, but this does not look real at all. I can't believe any fish would fall for this." Gwen reached sideways for a yellow and green striped worm, her right knee moving away from the other and dropping to the floor to balance herself, thighs opening and further pushing back her dress in the process.

Tim's eyes left her spread legs long enough to acknowledge the lure she was holding, then returned to unabashedly stare at her exposed sex. "Uh, yeah, they do, though. I guess bass get dumb when they see something they want to eat."

"Like fisherman," Gwen said with a mischievous smile, standing and smoothing her dress.

Tim got a few more brief peeks as they continued to shop, certain the offered glimpses were intentional and not at all upset about it. He was ready to go after selecting a few items for purchase, probably sooner than if he been shopping alone, but he had seen the bait being offered and was anxious to rise to it. His request to see a little more once they were in the privacy of the truck's cab was gently rebuffed, as was his suggestion they pull off somewhere along the way like they had that night after Bob and Yvette's.

Cricket had already left by the time they returned to the house, a note written with precise penmanship detailing her stay including the news that Alison had come over the previous afternoon and that they had ridden together. Tim returned to the kitchen after dropping their bags in the bedroom, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck. "Now can I see some more?"

"I'm going for a swim," Gwen replied while tilting her head to give his stubble more neck to rasp against. "If you come with me, you'll see everything." Callused hands scraped against the outside of her thighs, pulling her dress up as he nuzzled. She gently pushed them back down and pulled away. "Can you bring some towels and something to drink? I'll meet you up there."

Gwen was already treading water in the middle of the pool when he came through the gate, dress discarded over the back of a nearby chair. "I thought I was going to get to see everything?" he said with a chuckle.

"Maybe the view is better in here?"

He grinned and quickly stripped, his erection catching on the waistband of his underwear before springing free.

Gwen laughed. "How long have you had that?"

"On and off since breakfast."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have teased you like that. That wasn't very nice."

"Aww, that's okay. You can be a cocktease all you want as long as they make good on the tease. You're gonna finish what you started—"he pulled her to him, easily holding on as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck—"right?"

His kiss cut off her answer. I'm a cocktease, she thought, wiggling against the hardness lodged in the folds of her sex, the Lady insulted by the label, the Slut wearing it with pride.

He slowly walked with her still entwined about him towards the pool stairs, only letting her slide off his cock at the first step. Gwen led the way out of the water while Tim hung back, taking a moment to appreciate how her skin's wet sheen only made that beautiful ass more desirable.

"Lie down," she requested, motioning to the nearest recliner. "I'm going to finish what I started." Tim smiled in reply, lying back with hands folded behind his head in a pose that smacked of casual confidence, waiting to see what exactly she had in mind. Gwen straddled the chair above his midsection, feet firmly planted on the wet cement, smiling down at him as he squinted up at the figure above him framed in the afternoon sun. Two fingers circled the head of his cock and levered it up, aiming while she sank down to meet it in one fluid motion, pausing when his flared knob nestled between the lips guarding her opening. Gwen smiled again and slowly sank down on it, her journey reminding Tim of a cylinder returning to rest position. He was the engine driving the piston for that cylinder, and his hips thrust up into her as she bottomed out against him.

"Let me," she said, more of a command than a request.

He finished the thrust and lay still. "Have at it."

Gwen basked in the heat of the sun on her bare back for a moment before leaning forward and placing her hands on his chest, wiggling into the spike she was impaled on as if testing the fit. Satisfied, her hips began to rotate, her mound grinding sensuously against the wiry patch of hair over Tim's pubic bone. "You can play with my...tits...if you want." His hands were happy to have something to do besides grip the chair's armrests and enthusiastically applied themselves to their task, kneading the pliant flesh, thumbs circling and flicking the erect nipples.

Gwen understood the position she had chosen to fuck her husband was no accident, just as being on all fours in the hotel had been done to send a message. On her hands and knees, her rear presented for his pleasure had always struck her as the pose of ultimate submission; it was the way males of all species took their mates. To have him beneath her like this was the polar opposite...so much like riding a horse, Gwen mused, both of us working together, but it's my dance to lead and my will to be obeyed when I'm in the saddle—or on a man. Her hips were still grinding, sliding him in and out now as she rose and fell on the length inside her. Her left foot came up off of the cement, then the right, allowing her to kneel astride her mount while she began to bounce up and down on him with surprising force.

Tim noticed the enthusiasm in her style as well. "You like it hard?"

"I do, sometimes, like last night—and right now," she grunted, emphasizing her point with an especially energetic stroke as she finished her thought.

"I'll have to remember that." He let her use him, hoping to delay his own gratification long enough to completely fulfill hers, aware that her intensity was quickly making that impossible. Her fingers grasped at his chest, short nails leaving red marks as each downstroke was accompanied by an equally intense grinding of her clit against him. "You're gonna make me come, Gwen."

"Come in me," she growled, "as deep as you can!" She again forced herself down on him to add an exclamation to her request, and his own fingers left marks on the tender flesh of her breasts when they moved to grasp her hips and force them against his. Gwen studied his face for the subtle and not-so-subtle signs of his orgasm as Tim screwed his eyes shut, his jaw tensing while his hips twitched with enough strength to briefly lift her off him while he pulsed inside her.

His long exhalation and satisfied chuckle signaled the end of his immediate need and Gwen gently fell forward, her body light on his. The rotation of her clit returned, more gentle now, rebuilding the intensity. "Put your hands on my ass," she murmured into his neck. "I like them there." Gwen felt a finger land beyond one cheek and in the spread crevice between the other, resting lightly on her rosebud. She didn't care whether its resting place had been intentionally chosen or not; she wiggled against it in welcome, and the finger responded by circling the crinkled muscle a few times before pushing just hard enough to force it apart. Her body worked unbidden to maintain the delicious pressure on her clit while keeping the cock deeply buried and the finger right where it was.

This climax did not sneak up on her; she could feel its approach and worked to exert her will on it, letting it creep forward in small bursts until deciding that allowing it to burst forth was a form of control as well. The orgasm obediently exploded through her, her asshole spasmodically gripping his fingertip, the walls of her pussy contracting around the softening cock that seemed reluctant to leave as waves of pleasure radiated from her sex.

"I'm sorry I teased you like that," she repeated once her mind could again form words, murmuring into his neck. "And that I made you wait so long." "I just wanted to see...if I could. I'm sorry. That wasn't very nice."

"It was worth the wait," Tim replied with a laugh. "I thought maybe you were punishing me for last night—and this morning."