Home Alone

"So what were you doing all afternoon while I was slaving over a hot terminal?" Tom's wife was giving him a cold stare. "Running?"

"Swimming," he admitted.

"Really?" The stare was getting colder now. "I thought we were going to go now, after the little kids were gone."

"We can go. No problem."

"Was it crowded?"

"No. Well, actually I don't know. I didn't go to the lake. I went up along the river."

"So you could skinny dip?" Lucy pulled his shorts down, scowled at the lack of tan line. "Really, you are getting out of control. What if you get caught? What's going to happen to me? I can see the headlines now -- professor's husband arrested for indecent exposure. Do you know what that would do to my chance to get tenure? What about your career as a big time consultant?"

"I'm careful."

"Careful!" She snorted in derision. "Going off and swimming buck naked by yourself is careful! What if you drown? I'm spending a lot of money putting you through business school. I expect a return on my investment." She smiled to show she was only kidding, but he wasn't so sure.

"I wasn't alone," he stammered.

"Not alone! Oh that's even better! What, you were frolicking around with a bunch of naked college girls?"

"They weren't naked. It was a couple."

"What?"

"Well, I was lying there on the shore, and they came over to the other bank of the river. They just set up over there."

"And you were just lying there naked?"

"Well, I went in swimming. After a while. They were gone when I came back."

"Great. Just great. They probably went and told the cops they'd just seen Bert the Vert. You're lucky you weren't arrested."

"It wasn't like that. They were friendly. Come on, let's go for a swim. You need to get outside for a while."

"I have to get this presentation printed by the time the limo comes. You want to give me some help. Proofread?"

"Sure."

But five minutes later, Lucy was leaning against his back, breathing down his neck. "Damn! It's not fair!"

"You don't like it when I do this?" She started to kiss the back of his neck.

"I love it when you do that. But then I have to turn around."

"What's wrong with turning around?"

"You don't have to turn around. I can just stay behind you." He did turn around. She had put on her bathing suit, one of those tiny little bikinis from DSB. "Is a tenured professor supposed to dress like that?"

"Not tenured yet. I have to get through this conference. Then I've got a shot."

"I don't think your attire is appropriate." He pulled down the bottom.

"Later. After we swim." She pushed him away.

"Why?"

"It's getting late."

"It won't take long."

"You're going to want to do it after we swim anyway. And then again tonight before the limo comes."

"You're going to be away for a week."

"Four days."

"Almost a week."

"Look, I've got to get stuff finished up, I've got to pack, I haven't even thought about what to pack, there I people I need to contact to meet out there -- I do not have time to spend four hours today fucking."

"All right, all right." He gave her a little kiss. "Let's swim then."

It was after four, but the sun was still blazing. There was not a hint of breeze. The little walk down to the lake, less than a mile, seemed like a desert safari. As they got closer, the shrill screams of little children were all too evident.

"This is going to suck," Lucy grumbled. "Why aren't they heading home to get dinner?"

"Too hot, I guess." Tom pulled her to the right. "Come on, let's go over to the river."

"Tom, I wish you would stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Trying to get me to go to a nude beach. I don't want to do that, I don't like to do that. You may be a pervert, but I'm not."

"It's not a nude beach. It's a river bank. No one else will be there. It's a great place to swim. No little kids to get in the way. It's really pretty back there."

So they started on the path that went around the lake, past the strange bare spot where the paint factory had been, past the tennis courts. But where the causeway went over the incoming stream, Tom pulled her to the right again. They walked upriver for about two hundred yards. There was a little sandy stretch of shoreline with an easy wade into the river.

"This is it?" Lucy didn't wait for an answer. She spread out her towel and sat down.

"This is it." Tom slipped off his shoes, then his shirt, then his bathing trunks. His wife gave him that little look of disapproval, the same one that she hated so much in her mother. "You're doing it again," he said.

"Doing what?"

"Giving me that look."

"Fuck you."

"I thought you wanted to swim."

"I do want to swim." She peeled off her cover up and waded into the water. There was a sharp dropoff, which she stumbled down, then a channel almost five feet deep. They swam a hundred yards down to the lake, then back to the beach, then another hundred yards the other direction. By that time she was winded, and they floated down to the beach with the current, Tom on his back with an erection sticking up like a little snorkel.

When they got to the little beach, she lay down to bask in the late afternoon sun, but Tom spread his towel over her.

"What are you doing? It's too hot." But he was lying behind her. He was pulling down the bottom of bikini. "What are you doing?" But it was pretty obvious what he was doing, or attempting to do. "Wrong hole, wrong hole. Shit." She started to giggle.

"Oops. Sorry." Of course, he had only pulled the bathing suit halfway down her cheeks. There was no way he could have found the "right" hole from that position.

"Sure you are. I know how sorry you are. Bastard."

"You want me to shift?"

"No, just get it over with. Oh shit!"

"What, I'm hurting you?" He had felt her tighten around him. In truth, there had been almost no resistance before. There never had been. He had never dared to question her how she had been trained so well for anal penetration. Someone had paved the way for him, and he was grateful, well, perhaps a bit jealous. Five years they had been married now, and he had the feeling there was still a lot Lucy was hiding from him, things she had done, things she liked to do, things that she did not dare to do with him. All these conferences she went to -- they were important for her career. But she always came back with a smug little expression on her face, as if she had just scratched an itch that had been itching for a long time. "Did that hurt?" He pushed against her resistance, broke through it, felt the tip of his penis against the end of her rectum. She squirmed, involuntarily, but only to try to get it to press in a bit deeper, through the channel to her bowels.

"We've got company," she whispered.

Sure enough, a couple had appeared on the far shore. They waved to Tom, and then they were busy stripping off their clothes and wading into the river.

"It's the same people I saw this morning."

"I thought they were wearing clothes."

"They were then."

"They aren't now." The two of them were hugging in the water. Then they were kissing, her arms around his neck. Then her legs were around his waist. The water was turning muddy, churned by their activity.

"They're fucking," she said in a gasp. The details were hidden by the muddy water, but there was little doubt.

"So are we," he pointed out.

"No, dear heart. You are fucking me. I'm just lying here trying to enjoy the sun."

"You want me to take the towel off?"

"No, I do not want you to take the fucking towel off. I would like you to finish what you're doing." So he started to move again. She was staring at the couple in the water. They in turn were staring intently at her. She reached back and pulled away the towel.

"What?" Tom was startled.

"Shut up Tom. Just fuck my fucking asshole." She had never talked that way to him before, and she said it quite loudly, loud enough that the couple in the water could hear her. They had almost stopped moving now. They were more intent in watching what was happening on the shore. Tom reached his hand down into the front of the bikini, barely brushing the hair beneath, and his wife began to come, with a lot of drama, putting on a little show for her audience. That was enough to carry the other three on to orgasm.

"Let's get out of here." She had pulled her bottom back up, she was on her feet, face flushed. She was almost running back down the path and Tom did have to run to catch her.

"Don't you want to say hello?"

"No, I do not want to fucking say hello. You are not fucking me when we get home."

"We already did that."

"Not later. Not tonight. I am really, really pissed."

"Pissed? Why pissed?"

She did not answer. True to her word, she didn't let him fuck her when he got home from his class, but she did give him a nice goodbye blow job. Her limo came at three in the morning, and she was off the West Coast for a week.

The next day was rainy. He went for a long run, he played the piano, he studied labour law. Finally he gave in to the growing impatience in his groin, and went into the little bathroom, pressing against the lavatory. He thought about how hot and tight his wife's asshole had been, what it had felt like to push through into her bowels, how it had felt as her flesh had grown taut and trembling. He thought about how her teeth had felt, scraping down the shaft of his penis, until they were touching his belly. Where had she learned to do that? It had been a couple of years into their marriage before she had shown him how deeply she could take him in, all the way down her throat. None of his other girl friends had been able to do that, at least not with him. He had never even thought to try it, but one night he had just kept pushing, and she had swallowed him whole, so to speak. He started to wonder what it would be filled with a penis like that, at either end of the digestive system, maybe both at once -- and that was the thought that carried him to ejaculation. Flushing in shame, he washed the evidence down the sink.

She had left him a phone message, to say she was okay. She didn't think she would be back until the hotel until very late, too late for him to call.

The next day was sunny. There was no point in hanging around the apartment. He took a couple of textbooks with him and went down to the river to bask in the sun and study. The little beach was deserted. He was hoping the couple would return, but no such luck. Late in the afternoon, two girls came up the trail, younger girls, townies, in bathing suits. They saw him. No screams, maybe a couple giggles, and they set up shop a hundred feet away. He waited impatiently for them to lose the bikinis, but they went into the water still clothed. He considered putting his shorts back on, but decided they had seen him. They came back out for a few minutes, then, giggling, and took off their tops. Take off your bottoms, kiss each other -- he was urging them on, trying to project into their minds. But that was the end of it. They just lay on their backs for a couple on minutes, then turned over onto their stomachs, hiding their breasts. It was getting late. He did pull on his shorts, he gathered up his books, and he strolled past them, on his way back to the lake. They kept their heads down, bodies flat, ignoring him.

It was time for dinner. But when he got to the path around the lake, he turned right instead of left. There was no hurry. He had time to take the long way home.

About half way around the lake, there was a little meadow. He had walked or run through it hundreds of times without incident. That evening, there were a dozen naked people sitting in that meadow. Two of the couples were fucking.

He stopped, he gaped, then he took off his shorts and sat down to watch. One of the couples was sitting facing each other in yoga position, her legs on top of his. She was holding herself up with her arms, with a bit of assistance from his hands under her cheeks. He had tried that once, not with Lucy, without a bit of success, but they looked as if they were enjoying themselves. The other girl was in a more conventional position, on her back, but her legs were so long and skinny, sticking up at such at odd angles, thrashing around, that it was almost more bizarre. Everyone else was pretending not be paying attention to them, so Tom did the same. After a few minutes, yoga girl detached herself and came over to sit next to him. She was still sitting cross legged, wide open and dripping white. Of course, he saw Lucy looking like that all the time. He just wasn't used to having a total stranger look like that, a stranger with a very nifty little body, not as big as Lucy, but her tits were bigger. She was sitting close enough he could smell her, smell her sweat, the musk of her desire.

She looked at him quizzically. "Do I know you? Haven't I seen you here before?"

"Maybe," he blurted. "I run here all the time. Sometimes naked," he added. "But there were never any nudists here."

"Certain times of the day," yoga boy said, almost yawning.

"I don't know," Tom said. "Too many people walking by. I know a great place up on the river. Ever been there?" The girl shook her head. "Want to see it?"

He waited breathlessly for an answer. He knew exactly what he was going to do with her on that river beach. Well, not exactly. It wasn't going to be yoga style. But she shook her head. "Not now. Dinner time." She started to pull on her clothes.

He looked at his watch. He had not realized how much time had passed in that meadow. He barely had time to get to class. He ran the rest of the way home.

That night, alone in a bed he usually shared, he thought about how close he had come to breaking his wedding vows. He thought about it for a long time, through several ejaculations.

The next day, the sun was shining again. He spent the whole day by the river, but no one else showed up to keep him company. He walked home the long way, but the little meadow was empty. There were no classes that night. Lucy called him, and they talked for a long time. He slept fitfully, full of guilt and desire that he was reluctant to acknowledge.

The next day, the couple returned. They arrived on the other bank, the girl in a one piece bathing suit, the guy wearing trunks, but he took them off and held them over his head as he side stroked across the little river. The girl followed him, still clothed, but she stripped off her suit as soon as she reached his side.

"Hi, mind if we join you?" The guy was leaning down to offer his hand. Tom was staring at the prick that was almost jabbing him in the nose. Well, of course, he'd been a jock in high school and college. He had seen naked guys all the time. But not so much so lately. "I'm Jake. And this is Sally."

"Hi Jake, hi Sally." They had squatted down on either side of him. "Nice to meet you." Sure. He shook hands with naked ladies all the time.

"What happened to you wife?" Sally asked. Not girlfriend, wife. How did she know? He realized he was wearing his wedding band. "I was looking forward to meeting her." There was something about the way she said that, a little drawl, a little smile, that reminded him of the swinger couple that had moved in across the hall, back when they lived in the city.

"She's away," he blurted. "At a conference."

"Too bad." Sally sighed, and she stretched a little, just enough to show how big her breasts were. "I was hoping to get to know her better."

"She's not into that," Tom blurted again. "At least, that's what she tells me."

"Really," Sally's drawl was deeper now. "And how about you, Tom?" She leaned forward, and pulled his head toward a nipple. "Are you into that sort of thing?"

He didn't answer. He just ran his tongue around the nipple. She turned on her side, and he kissed her. She threw one leg over his, and pulled him into her. He hadn't even been aware of an erection, but he felt her smooth hot flesh sliding around him. Fucking her, he was fucking her, but they weren't fucking exactly, they were just lying there, in a double ended kiss. He had tried that with Lucy, but she was too short for both ends to match up properly. Sally was taller, just the right size that his tongue could be in her mouth, his prick in her cunt, his fingers up her asshole, his other hand on her tits, yep, he had her all, all at once. There was no hurry to it.

Someone was kissing his back. Someone with bristly lips. It had to be Jake.

"Stay!" Sally whispered, her hand stroking his hair, but her other arm, her legs, were holding him in a death grip. "Stay!"

What choice did he have? And it was true, his struggles were quite feeble. Even though he was getting beard burn, those kisses felt nice. Jake was kissing his neck, Jake's chest was pressed against his back, Jake's hands were spreading his cheeks, Jake was pushing a finger up his asshole. No, too thick and soft for a finger. It pressed in, just a little, just enough to let him know how nice it would be to have it pressed in a little more.

"Does that hurt?" Jake's voice was a murmur behind his ears.

"No." He could feel how slippery it was back there. Jake was oozing into him, preparing the way. He felt a bit of pressure, a little pain, then flesh sliding into him. The sensation was electrifying. He gave a gasp, more of a scream.

"I'm hurting you?"

"No!" It didn't hurt. It didn't feel like anything he had felt before. He remembered the wonder of his first ejaculation, the hot fluid rushing up from somewhere unknown, the uncontrolled spurt of it, how sticky it had been, sweet and chalky. This was as much of a surprise. His balls were on fire, no, somewhere behind his balls, somewhere he had never realized existed. Jake started to slide in and out, rubbing on that sweet spot. He had to come, he needed desperately to ejaculate. Each stroke was demanding that, but instead of coming his penis was doing dry heaves, straining as if it were about to spurt, tingling as if it were about to spurt, but nothing was coming out. At least not enough. He was trembling. His whole body was glowing with an endless, almost orgasm. It went on for a long time.

Sally was not helping. She had somehow clutched herself around his prick, immobilizing it, and she was holding herself still against him. Then, the strategy changed. Jake pushed himself all the way in and stayed there, but he grabbed Tom's hips and used him to fuck Sally by extension. That was enough to turn her pussy lips rigid, to make her shudder, to set her off into what seemed an endless orgasm. Tom was coming too, at least he was trying to come, but his prick was still in spasm with the little dry spurts. He was getting really close, though. All he needed were another couple of hard shoves into that sweet spot and he would find release at last.

But instead, Jake abandoned him, to go around behind Sally instead. Tom could feel that other penis next to his, cloaked only by a little veil of her flesh, as it slid up into her bowels, and he wondered, briefly, how different if felt, male or female. Sally still had one leg up over Tom. Jake slid his top leg beneath hers, scrunched forward so that his balls were brushing Tom's. The two of them began to slide so that they could rub their balls together, rub their pricks against each other, all the while enjoying Sally's smoothness. And she came, gasping, shuddering, until at last she pushed Tom away.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Your turn."

"Turn to what?"

"It's your turn to fuck Jake." She sounded exasperated, as if any five year old would have comprehended the rules of their game. Jake climbed over and took position where Tom had just been.

"I can't," Tom said. He was staring at Jakes hairy ass. It had absolutely no appeal to him. "No way."

"Come on," Jake said. "Be a sport. Why should you have all the fun?"