He, She, and I Ch. 06

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Years later, wife and old friend play in the back seat.
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Part 6 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/10/2023
Created 04/04/2010
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Wife and old friend play in the back seat while I'm driving.

Introduction: My girlfriend back in the seventies was a real pistol, a slim, attractive, young lady willing to experiment with sex and have fun with it. We had been together for about two years at this time. She was only in her early twenties and still lived with relatives a few miles away from my apartment.

My best friend from college and I were both in graduate school in nearby cities. He would often come up on weekends, for an afternoon of football or drinking, dinner, and maybe sleep on the couch. When he was between girlfriends, he would be there every other weekend. He, she, and I were very close. The three of us spent a lot of time together.

She mentioned to me one day that she was interested in possibly going to bed with him, if I wouldn't be upset. She thought he was pretty sexy, and we were all very familiar, and she wanted to try another man. Far from being upset, I approved wholeheartedly. She enjoys sex a great deal and expresses it loudly. I looked forward eagerly to seeing a new person turn her on, to watching another man explore her body and her desires, to watching her discover new excitement and pleasure with a new person. He and I certainly thought she was very sexy. She was cute, though not a beauty queen, but she had a terrific figure, medium height, thin, tight, tight hips and tight ass, slinky. And she just exuded sex when she wanted to. He and I are still good friends, but we live far apart so we don't see each other very often.

We had half a dozen threesomes with her in the middle. All great fun. Intense making out. Clothes all over the place. Hands and lips and tongues and dicks everywhere that was fun. Then he got seriously involved with a new girlfriend, and it faded, and we moved apart, she and I in one direction, he and his honey in another. Still hot memories.

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This chapter is largely fiction. Wish it could have happened this way, but we didn't get very far on this journey.

Fast forward fifteen years. Sweetie and I have now been married for ten years and we live in the Northeast. My best friend from college, the third in our little threesome, lives several hundred miles away. He's been married for about twelve years and has a couple kids. With four professional work schedules and kids and all, we don't see each other as often as we'd like. We're still good friends, though.

We two couples get together a couple times a year for drinks and dinner and more drinks and hours of gab. This one was around Christmas that year. At the end of the evening, we are driving back from dinner in the city to their house way out in the burbs. Beyond the burbs, in the country. I was the designated driver that night, so I had like one glass of wine. Everyone else was well-lubricated. His wife in fact got completely blitzed at dinner. Must have been those stingers after dinner. After the cocktails before dinner and two bottles of wine with dinner. She really can't walk well; we almost have to carry her back to the car. We put her in the front seat and recline it a bit so she can sleep. She crashes immediately, turns toward the door and begins to snore softly. We belt her in good and tight. She'll sleep now but pay for it tomorrow with many aspirin.

My wife and he are in the back seat, but they can use only half of it because the passenger seat is reclined so much. So they are pretty well squeezed together. This is interesting because they know and I know - but his wife doesn't, or at least I don't think she does - that the three of us were, um, intimate back in college days. We played as a threesome a number of times. In fact, the three of us were still getting it on occasionally after he and his now-wife started dating. So the two of them are squeezed together rather tightly in the back seat, tight and cuddling. The old times occur to us all.

At one point the conversation lags and I hear a lot of rustling. I look in the mirror to see what's happening. They are kissing. Not just a peck, but deeply, serious tonsil hockey. This goes on for a couple minutes. When I look around later, she's squirming and has one of his hands in hers. Then she's at my ear. "Honey, it's awfully close back here, so I have to sit sort of on him to get comfortable. At the moment, I'm sitting on his lap. Um, and he's been kissing me. A lot."

Is she upset about this or is she taunting me? I can't do much about it either way. I'm stuck driving through the cold, dark countryside. Does she want to tease? She knows how much I love to hear her talk about sex. Is this a sex thing again? She already started things by sitting on him, and making out with him.

"He's trying to feel me up, honey." But she doesn't sound all that happy about it. I get a glance that she's holding his wrist. Has she just removed his hand from her boob? "Remember the old times, how he felt me up in your old apartment, and how one thing led to another?" Boy, do I remember those days! We had some great times where the three of us all got naked and he and I both "had our way with her." It was not so much making love then as it was good, hard screwing. I'm not proud of it, but hey, we were young and horny then. At first, I recall, she was very enthusiastic, but after the first couple times she was more reluctant to start. Hmm.

What could happen here, though? His wife is in the front seat with me, passed out to be sure, but still. . . .

I remember how he felt up her breasts right in front of me, and how he groped under her skirt. And she let him. She opened her legs for him. And I wanted her to do that and let him do whatever he wanted. Oh, I remember all right. "Geez, honey, he's feeling me up now," she whispers. "Like then. He's kissing me, deeply. He's holding me and he's grabbing my boobs. What should I do?"

I don't know how to answer, or even if I should. She knows that I remember acutely those times when the two of us men made love to her and even the times when we just used her for sex. She won't take my silence for an answer. "He's trying to put his hands on me, like back then. He wants to play with my body all over." Pause. "Do you . . . do you want him to play with my body? Do you want me to *let* him play with my body?" More rustling and sighing. "He's already starting. He's holding me tight. When I lean forward to talk to you, he's cupping both my breasts. I keep moving his hands but he keeps coming back, grabbing me."

That's how it starts. Those intimate moments are among my fondest and most erection-inducing memories. I would love to repeat them. She played with other guys a lot before we were married - and even some after, at least the ones that I know about and she told me about. I certainly don't want to stop her here from creating another one of our great erotic memories. "Honey, I'm really being molested back here. This could get serious. He really is feeling me. And I think he's hard. When I move forward like this, I can feel my crotch rub over his."

Am I hearing this right? She's sitting on his lap, and he's holding her breasts, and she can feel his hard-on. Sure sounds like the beginning of something serious. Does she want to continue or not? I ask, "Is he bothering you? Do you want me to stop him?" She pauses a while. "Is it bad-molested or good-molested? If you don't like it, you can stop him."

A lot of rustling, changing positions I think. I glance in the mirror and see more kissing. Serious, deep kissing. After a while, she leans forward again toward me. She tickles my neck with her fingernails while whispering dirty thoughts in my ear. Always a starter. "Now I'm sitting on his knee so I can talk to you. Just one knee. That knee is between my legs. I'm resting all my weight on it and it's pushing on my goodies. It's like a hobby horse with a really narrow saddle. I can feel it rubbing when I lean forward to talk to you. My goodies are very sensitive." A little breathing and moaning. "He's holding my boobs and pulling me back to him. Mmm. Are we going to stop him? He really wants to feel me up."

*I* don't want to stop it - I'm thinking with the little head again, I can imagine what's happening right now, and I can fantasize about what might happen if he and she continue - I even want to encourage it. "If you're enjoying it, let him touch you. Let him feel you up."

"What? Let . . . let him feel me? He won't stop with just second base. Do you want to let him put his hands on me, feel me . . . any way he wants?"

"You're a big girl, not some innocent teeny bopper. He's done it before and you let him." Shrug.

"That was different. We were single, and not all that serious. Now we're married, and so's he. I'm your *wife*. You want your wife to play sex with your friend? Your friend to feel up your *wife*?"

"Consenting adults, sweetie. I love you, I love my wife, madly, you know that. Nothing will change that. Whatever pleases her is okay. Whatever you want to do."

"But what if he wants to go further? What if he wants to get under my skirt? Or under my clothes? You know, third base? He's been there before."

"Geez, babe, what do you want me to do about it? I'm driving, trying not to kill us all. You're the one who knows how far you want to go."

"So if he wants to get into my pants, I should just let him? He's already grabbing me. I don't think he'll stop."

"I can't really do much about it while I'm driving, can I? I'll just be sorry that I can't see what's going on."

"Oooh, right, I want you to concentrate on driving not on watching what's going on back here." Uh-oh, sarcasm. She sounds more than a little cool. "Do you want this? Do you want him all over me?" Silence for a minute. "Are you okay with him feeling up your wife?" More silence. "I know you like the idea of me and another man. But are you okay with this, when you're really not involved?"

I nod that I am. "Do whatever you want. If you want to stop him, stop him. If you don't, don't. Unless you want me to pull over and say something, tell him to lay off you, or slug him or something, I can't really be involved, can I?"

A lot of rustling behind me. A little moaning. "I can't stop him. He's really insistent." He pulls her back to him, kisses her hard. I glimpse his hand between them, probably wandering up her chest. She comes up for air. "How's this? I don't think I can fight him off for an hour. I'll let him go ahead and I'll tell you what's happening. How's that, a running commentary?" Better than nothing, I think. Again, I said nothing. She takes this as assent.

"Okay. He's going to molest me. I won't stop him. He'll run his hands all over my body if he has his way. I'm going to turn around to kiss him now, and he'll probably reach up to grab my boobs again." She is quiet. I look in the mirror again. They are kissing more. She twists back to meet him. He holds her tightly and kisses her deeply.

Oh, god, she's really serious. She's sitting there not so innocently on his lap. I can imagine how his leg is pressing hard up into her crotch. "Oh, honey, he's feeling my boobs. He's holding both of them, kneading them."

They kiss more. I can hear her moaning a little. "Mmmm . . . mmmm. He's holding your wife's breasts in his hands, you know, cupping and pinching them and driving me crazy."

Well, I asked for it. I didn't stop my wife from being manhandled, and now another man is really handling her. And I can tell from her voice that she's ambivalent about it. On the one hand, she's upset about being groped by some man who sees her as just a sex object; on the other hand, she's enjoying being played with as a sex object. And that turns her on. And she feels guilty about it. All at the same time. She's taunting me with his actions and with the pleasure she is getting from them.

He's not a stranger, of course; he's an old friend. And more than just a friend. Long ago, she cuckolded me with him, right in front of me. He kissed her and felt her all over, and took off her clothes and lay between her legs. For her part, she let him feel her and seduce her; she took him into her body, into her sex, and drew his seed from him. I didn't mind; I loved it. "Cuckolded" is way too strong a word for the experience. I shared her willingly, eagerly. We both enjoyed it immensely. A lot more than once, too. And we weren't married at the time, anyway. Now, we're married, a permanent, happy, more or less faithful couple, and here she is playing with sex with that man again.

I am extremely turned on by the situation. (Concentrate, concentrate, don't wreck the car! Watch the road, not the mirror!) I think she's turned on, too, despite her nervousness and little protests.

"When I leaned forward just now, he pulled my skirt all the way up so I'm not sitting on it anymore. I'm completely uncovered. He's stripping your wife!" My dick is hard and long and cramped in my pants, I have to shift it around a lot to get comfortable. She can see me moving things around in my crotch. "Is this making you horny, honey, that he's playing with my body? He has a hand on my thigh now. He's feeling my leg under my dress."

She asks him, "You like that? You like the feel of cool stockings on a woman's thigh, don't you? So does my husband." He answers her but I can't understand it. Through the road noise and soft whispers, I can hear only snippets of their conversation, but some of the snippets are intriguing. "How far is this going to go?" she asks him. "We can't do much here, I mean, your wife is right there, a couple feet away."

"Don't worry, she's passed out for the night. She sleeps like the dead when she drinks like that. Unless we hit a tree, she won't wake up."

To me: "Honey, try not to hit a tree. We need the privacy."

He asks, "Move over a little, Put your other leg over here."

I hear a lot of rustling while she shifts over. "Oh, now he's opened me up. My legs are over both of his. Honey, I'm spread wide open sitting on his lap. You like that? I'm straddling him. That leaves my thighs wide open for him to reach in. He's molesting your wife. He will feel me right up my legs to my core. I can't stop him now. Do you want me to stop him, or do you want him to feel your wife's sex?"

Gulp. "Um, okay, go ahead, do whatever you want to do. Whatever feels right. Whatever feels good." How could I say otherwise? I want her to get felt up. I want him to play with her sex. "If you feel good, go ahead."

A minute later, "Oh, god, his hand is way up my thigh. There, he's cupping my sex, his hand is cupping my crotch, pushing hard into it. I can feel his fingers pushing my lips apart. Which is easy with my legs spread wide now. My slit is wide open. The lips are open for him to feel." She's scratching my neck again, which gives me goose bumps on top of my uncomfortable erection. "Your wife has spread her legs so that this strange man can feel her pussy. He's rubbing up and down in between my pussy lips. He's pushing the fabric of my panties into my open hole. It feels rough on my clit. That's wonderful, oh oh."

Some rustling, some mumbling. "Ooh, he's reaching inside my pantyhose. Ouch. It's too hard to reach, they're tight the way I'm sitting. The waist is too tight." To him: "No, get outta there. Cut it out! No, I can't take them off. It's too cold, it's the middle of friggin' winter! You want your wife to notice that I don't have any stockings on and become suspicious?" Mumble, grumble.

"Did you ever tell her about us?" Mumble. "What do you mean, 'What about us?' *Us* is that we had sex, you and I. Lots of it. You fucked me a bunch of times. It was only occasionally, sure, but you fucked me good and hard, a bunch of times, a lot, like every time we got together for months. You both fucked me silly, my dear horny husband and his sexy friend."

"Shh! Shh!" Mumble, mumble. I guess it would be bad if his wife heard this conversation, even subliminally.

"Sure, I wanted it, too, but I wasn't a slut about it or anything, just the willing fuckee for my guy's best friend. Even when I didn't want it, you two just tore my clothes off and fucked me one after the other. Hard dicks just wanted a place to unload, and I was it." He pulls her back and kisses her hard just to shut her up.

I remember. We had fun, sure, but I have to admit that maybe we didn't treat her quite well enough. Well, this is her time now, her show. She should have whatever fun she wants. "Sweetie, you going to let him continue? You want him to feel you, don't you? Remember those old days."

"Oh, god, that was fun. Yeah, even when I didn't really want it, it was fun." Then whispering in my ear, "And I'm so drunk and horny now, I want someone to feel me. Fondle me, hold me." She leans back. "Okay,"

To him, "Make a hole in my pantyhose. And then you owe me thirty bucks, buster." Giggle. "Yes, right there. Yes, right over the goodies. Right where you want to feel." Rustling. "Oh, I can feel the cold. Got your hand on my panties? Are they hot and wet? They sure feel it to me. Oh, now pull them to the side. Feel my button, wet it. Mmmm."

A sharp gasp. "Oh! He's in me! His finger is in me, drilling up into me." She hisses in my ear. Her fingernails dig into my shoulder. "Oh! Now two!" she squeals. "You hear that, honey, the wet sliding and sucking sound? That's my wet va-gi-naaa. He's fucking me with his fingers! He's finger fucking your wife right next to you, just a couple feet away! He's fucking your wife right next to her husband! Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" I think she came right then. Maybe his technique has improved over the years.

I can't see that much in the rear view mirror. When headlights of other cars pass, I get glimpses of her legs all the way to the top. Her skirt is up around her waist. His hand covers her crotch, reaching deep into her as she has said.

Then he pulls his hand out. "Lift up for a moment so I can unzip."

"Oh, god, honey, he's going to take it out! He wants to pull his cock out so he can use it on me!" She hisses in my ear, "He wants to fuck me! Right here!" Breathing, gasping. "Are you okay with this? Do you want him to fuck me? If you don't stop him, he's going to fuck your wife, here, now." She pauses. "He wants to fuck me right in front of my husband! And his wife, too!" She pulls hard on the seat back to put her lips to my ear. In an urgent whisper, "Do you want this? Are you going to let him have me? You *want* him to have me? You want me to let him inside me?"

More moaning, groaning. "We weren't married in the old days, honey. It's different now, he wants to fuck me where my husband can see and hear my cunt being drilled by another man. Do you want that? Yeah, he's done it before. But that was long ago. Do you want me to be his sex toy again?"

I think for a minute. Why am I thinking for a minute? I don't have to think for a second. Of course I want her to do this. Yes, I want to hear her being drilled. Right now.

She doesn't talk like that, doesn't use those words unless she is turned on close to out of control. "Sweetie, do you want to do it? If my wife is hot to get laid, then I want her to enjoy that. I want to hear every detail, every moan and sigh of her pleasure."

"Honey, this is serious. If we don't stop right now, he's going to stick his dick me. You want him to fuck me? Another man will fuck your wife!"

I managed to croak out, "Yes." My dick throbbed. If I touched it, it would go off.

"Tell me. Tell me what you want. Tell me you want him to have me. You want him have me? You want me to *let* him? Tell me. And tell him, too. I want to hear my husband tell my lover to fuck me."

No turning back now. Check to see that his wife is still unconscious and snoring soundly. My loving wife wants this. I want this. I want her to enjoy this. "Yes, sweetie, I want you to spread your legs for this man. Take his cock inside you and fuck it." She moans with pleasure. I assume he is still reaming her vagina. "I want my wife to spread her legs and get fucked!"

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