In a Neighborly Way Ch. 01

Introduction

Call me "Skip," and call my wife "Kit." We want to share an interesting tale of serendipitous erotic activity that literally fell into our laps last year, on an August evening, which we have willingly pursued over the last half year. As such, we both kept a separate diary of these encounters, written accounts—a log—now unveiled for you, because we lived it and loved it, still do, and we thought it special enough to share. Our episodes cross the content lines on Literotica. Stay with us if you're open minded to our stories involving, extramarital affairs, threesomes, couples, and group sex blending our sensual, sexual, and love experiences with straight, bisexual, gay, lesbian, and transgender lovers. We have a well-founded and loving relationship; have been sexually open about sharing our pasts and our fantasies; but, very amazingly, true to each other over our 20 years of marriage. **But, before we explain ourselves, our relationship, and our evolving situation, if you're reading for the erotica, then you might as well jump ahead to the juicy stuff now, about where I (Skip) exit to secure the back deck: Search on "Nice, timing" below, and enjoy! Otherwise, here's our story.

In 1994, we were dating in our senior year of college, and we had begun sharing with each other our own sexual and erotic thoughts and explorations, thinking it would clear our path to a truer relationship without hidden pasts, meanings, and intentions--how sophisticated, we thought. My wife, Kit, said she considered herself solidly bisexual, having had numerous college dormitory experiences with female roommates in her freshman and sophomore years; once with a slightly older woman, who she met who was sitting in an adjacent airplane seat, and consummated with that woman on my wife's college trip as they were staying in the same hotel; and one other time when Kit was a junior with a freshman coed she'd met in a college coffee shop, who had guessed she was gay, or at least bisexual, who said so to Kit, as a matter of fact, and who asked Kit if she might help with her mixed sexual feelings, mixed as much as her latte.

With the best I could muster, I had confided that, while leaning slightly bisexual, I had not confirmed those feelings physically with another man. In junior college, I had a couple of really close friends, who I had had sexual desires; but, I had quickly suppressed them, not wanting to be "gay." Indeed, my parents had noticed that I was tending too much on the feminine side of childhood, and my parents took action to engage me in as many "manly" activities as possible from about age 10 onward. While I wasn't the athletic type, my dad involved me in all of his garage activities, from working on cars, repairing household items, plumbing, wiring, etc., to his outdoor activities, such as target shooting, fishing, hunting, boating, and motorcycling. Upon graduation from high school, my parents sent me to an all-male junior college.

While living closely with other young men in junior college, the attraction to some dear friends had surfaced. And, then, when I was about 25 years old, employed and married, I first saw a photo of a transwoman sitting in the backseat of a limo, dressed to the nines, with her legs apart, and showing off her "surprise." She was beautiful, and her "love package" was cleanly shaven and magnetically alluring--nothing big, nothing hard, but just beautiful. The photo brought back memories of the one junior college buddy in particular, who I would never miss an opportunity to glimpse his manhood--looking quickly away, internalizing it, disgusting myself--going on with life as it should be. I shared these stories with Kit, and she said she understood.

That was it--Kit understood. Twenty years later, both forty-two, we are still making love, at least once a week, and maybe twice a week, if we can find the time. We pride ourselves and please each other with what we think are great, knowledgeable acts of oral stimulation, multiple-position vaginal penile penetrations, reaching as deep into her vagina as possible and also stimulating her G-spot much of the time with my average and adequate "six and half." So, with mostly weekly plying with my 6 1/2, with dual incomes and no kids (DINKs), and with plenty of aerobic exercise with Kegels and weight training every weeknight after work, Kit's vagina has stayed tight, very tight, to penetrate and enjoy! What more can a woman and a husband ask for?

Let me introduce myself, "Kit," the better half. "Skip" has most of this right, but I'll add some different perspectives as we write from my memoir, from time to time. In the dormitory, during my first two years of college, I probably had four roommates, and I explored and experienced them all. After all, really, when you sleep in dorm bunk beds and your roomie starts masturbating and rocking the bed, well, you might as well join in the fun! My roomies and I still remain friends to this day, each and every one; but, time and distance limit us to a few phone calls a year and holiday cards. The older woman from the plane, on my college trip--spring break--all be told, was a sex goddess--our night together remains a vivid sexual memory and fantasy to this day--I doubt this night can ever be fully relived. The young freshman girl from the coffee shop got a great dose of sex from me as I tried to remember as much as possible from my night with the older woman. That "coed" lives in our same town, and when I meet her for lunch, I give her a big hug, squeeze her butt, and kiss her on the lips--she then presses me into an open mouth and tongues me. We break the embrace quick enough, and we both laugh. Skip's been with us on a few of our lunches, and he gets a big kick out of our greeting.

As far as Skip's slight bisexual leanings: Yes, I "understand," but unless he takes another man's dick in his mouth, he'll never really know. I like dick, pussy, toys, and ass play, any which way. I never said "No," to any of it, and I always wanted more. My motto, "If I love you enough, I am going to be intimate with you." A person's sexual orientation was not the issue with me, but how well they responded to the real me and my love making is my thing.

Yes, Skip and I have fabulously great sex together, and we've never strayed. However, there are times when I wanted to take it a bit further, like when he's licking my vagina and clitoris, and I ask him to go further down. All he's willing to lick any further down is my "taint." We've discussed anal sex, which includes oral kissing, sucking, and licking, and anal penetrations; but, Skip says he satisfied with our love making now, and to him no benefit accrues to taking the risk of introducing bacterial infections. As, I said, he'll really never know about being bisexual until he sucks a dick and takes one straight up his ass. (Oh, excuse my trashy mouth, but I've learned that Skip likes it.) Yet, life is full of surprises, and that is where we begin our mutual story: One August night...

Chapter 1: One August Night

Kit: We live in beautiful, quiet suburbia; in a nice community of common designed homes in the mid-Atlantic region. We care for our own yard, garden, and flowers. Skip and I work outside our home on weekdays, workout at the local gym afterwards, and tend to our yardwork on the weekends. Our neighbor across the street, "KrisTy" (as she writes it), is single, mostly a teleworker, about our age (early forties), and a do-it-yourself homeowner too. Many a weekend, you'll see her, the other neighbors, and us outside caring for our homes and cars: Mowing, watering, painting, and, in her case, tending to a beautiful flower terrace gracing the entryway of her home. We couldn't ask for a better home to view from ours. Indeed, Skip often stops and watches in awe as she tends to and waters her flowers in the last heat of the day when the sun is about to set. On this particular late Saturday afternoon in August, the air is still very warm and humid, and we were leaning back on our porch swing, resting our feet on the porch rail, and watching her care for her flowers. I noted out loud that she worked so hard to keep her house in such wonderful shape.

Skip noted that he'd recently seen her leaving the local gym, when he was arriving there after work. She had said she had been working out that particular day in the afternoon, as she usually gets a couple of hours in at the gym each morning with an aerobics class and strength-training class before starting work in her home office, but that she'd had a doctor's appointment that day and got a late start on her daily routine. And, oh, excuse the sweat, because she usually showers and changes at home, instead of carrying a bulky gym bag with her to and from home. I asked him if she really sweat that much. He said her nipples sweat, as does her crotch and crack. I released my legs from the rail, the porch swing lurched forward, and he almost launched over the rail into our front yard.

Skip: My point was, KrisTy keeps herself in great shape, as much as she does with her home; and, if I'd had a chance to get this point out, I would have also said that Kit was in better shape, having kept such a rigorous physical training schedule all of her adult life. Nevertheless, truth being told here, KrisTy's physique, stature, style, form, and muscle tone, coupled with, a tan in a bottle and a sprinkling of late afternoon sun, ranks KrisTy in my "top ten women" in physical appearance, and hence overall attractiveness, who we know or have seen—and, probably just me, I'd say the "top five" women--Kit being number one and KrisTy's in there too. Being in their late thirties—to-- early forties, they are as beautiful as they can be, and their muscle tone and strength adds to their presence.

KrisTy has an interesting mixture of physically attractive attributes: Her little darker, easier to tan skin; thick brown hair bordering on black, but with some blond streaks, cut to just mid-shoulder blade length with a soft flowing wave throughout; a strong angular jawline and checks offset by medium-thin expressive eye brows, and one great cheek dimple; and, besides a great butt, legs, and arms, her breasts blossom widely toward her biceps. So as the sun was setting that Saturday afternoon, KrisTy came across the street to ask if we might watch her house the coming week, as she'd be out of town at a region sales meeting until Friday, a meeting which she was holding with her district managers. Usually the kid down the street watched her place, but he was gone on summer vacation with his parents. She said she felt rushed, as she had so much paper work to pull together for the meeting, and that she hadn't remembered to stop her mail; and would we collect it for her, pick up flyers and newspapers, and keep an eye on her house.

Of course, we'd keep an eye on her house and collect her mail. Then, I said, and this is the key moment kicking off our diaries and our story, "Would you like to come over for dinner tonight if you're strapped for time? We're having burgers and a salad on the backyard deck. Something simple, light, and quick." Wife Kit seemed OK with my friendly offer. KrisTy said, if she wasn't intruding, that, "Yes," she'd like that; a chance to get to know us better; and it would help her unwind. She could finish her paperwork on Sunday. Her distress was that she hadn't stopped the mail in time. Looking to contribute, she said she'd bring a nice bottle of red, if that was OK. But first, she'd need a shower after working in the yard the last hour in the heat and high humidity. We said, "Great, see you at seven thirty."

With that, Kit and I went inside, and Kit said maybe we should shower too, as we smelt like horses from being outdoors most of the afternoon. She was right, of course. We played a little grab-ass in the shower, enough to get me hard, but not long enough to finish the deed. We dressed in casual, dress shorts; me a polo; Kit a soft, sleeveless sheer blouse and a yellow bra; and both of us in sandals. Kit put on makeup--unusual for a Saturday I thought, but a nice touch for the neighbor visiting us for the first time, who is on my "top five list."

Dinner was fun and quick, and we asked way too many questions about KrisTy, but she happily told us parts of her life story. In an hour, we learned that she was single, had a sheltered childhood, but did well at her studies, becoming a Bachelor's degreed Registered Nurse. Out of college, she started working in a community health clinic helping mostly poor people with all of their health and social problems. Eventually, and she made this point quite often, she found that you can only work in these types of hard jobs for so long before you have to move on—though, she always seemed to find harder jobs.

She next worked in a hospital emergency room, advancing to the trauma teams; taking a break from the hospital to work for a Plastic Surgeon's clinic for a couple of years; and then working in another hospital's operating room, moving to intensive care, and then into cardiac intensive care, which she said was really, well, "intense!"

All along, she had also picked up the additional task, while working in the emergency room, of managing their supplies, which included making sure items were on hand, ordering supplies, and at times telling a distributor or manufacturer the ER's needs so they could find or make a new product. She had kept that supply task as she moved from unit to unit as a nurse in the hospital, and at the private clinic, as she was quite good at it, and the hospital staff always liked her supply system and responded well to her procedures and requests--as did the distributors and manufacturers. Along the way, she had managed to earn a Master's Degree in Hospital Administration and now was volunteering a couple of nights per week to lead support groups at that same community clinic where she started nursing.

So, we weren't surprised when she told us that after two years of working all kinds of shifts in the cardiac intensive care unit, one of the large medical equipment and supply commercial distributor's managers asked if she might be interested in a sales and distribution job with his company. They would pay her twice her hospital salary and provide a company SUV, travel and lodging funds, cell phone, computer, and an expense account, matching 401K, the opportunity to compete for a bonus of one paid two-week vacation a year (paid to a limit), but always having four weeks of vacation time all told, and a comprehensive, all paid health care benefit. She would work for the district manager as a sales rep, and she would service the hospitals and clinics in the three-city metro area. One caveat tho', no sex with the customers and no sex with the company employees. After an hour, she hadn't learned much about us, so I suggested we retire to our family room to watch some photos from our recent vacation on a cruise ship--just a few photos, a couple of short videos, and that they go fast—I promised.

Kit: Well, we learned some about her romantic life too. KrisTy had had her share of lovers, but because her jobs were mostly shift work, and because she spent a number of years working on that Master's degree too, that made solid relationships hard to cultivate. Because everyone was on shifts in the hospital, including the EMTs, Firefighters, police, and sheriffs, she didn't like to date them because scheduling time with them was a nightmare. For the last eight years, working for the medical supply company, she had had more time, but her life consisted mostly of hospital people as customers and contacts with her management, eventually her own sales force to manage and eventually district managers to lead and motivate as she had climbed the ranks to a region manager's job.

Most of her life now consisted of teleworking from home on her computer and using her smartphone, with the occasional visit to a customer with a sales representative and/or a district manager. Once a month, she'd meet face to face with one district manager and his sales reps. Once every three months, she'd fly to meet with all of her district managers, who she'd called to attendance. Once every six months, she'd meet with the company "suits" and the other region managers at the company's headquarters. Luckily, we lived close by a big airport for easy access; and, she could stop her paper and mail and lockdown her house. This coming trip was one of those meetings she'd conduct with her district managers. Once in a while, she'd get "lucky" on a trip, meet someone on a plane, in a cafe or bar, or hotel lounge. She said that two key things always arose though: safe sex and acceptance. In fact, one of her support groups she led dealt with safe sex.

This led to a small conversation about STDs and such, but ended with we had all been as pure as the driven snow. Since all of us were professed to be disease free and since we "got" the safe sex part, we pushed her a little harder on the "acceptance" part. Seems, she said, she is a hard to person to know and a hard person to get used to in the sack. "Oh, really, how's that," we responded almost in unison. KrisTy said she was an awkward child, conflicted sexually, not abused, but never quite with it--not having the desire or the need for the secret, dirty adventure the boys pushed and the girls talked about. When working in the community clinic, she saw the horrors of life on the street that the poor, the homeless, the drug addicted, the whores, and the sex slaves endured. Eventually, she led a clinic-run group therapy session twice weekly for those who had sex and drug problems--for those same people, who discussed everything you'd ever want to talk about regarding sex and drug problems or both. To this day and ever since she left the community clinic as a nurse, she has volunteered to run group therapy sessions two nights a week addressing those same, timeless issues. She didn't really answer our question about "acceptance" directly though.

Skip: "Time for some photos and video clips of our recent ship cruise to the Western Caribbean," I announced to break up the post-dinner interrogation and to retire to the house. Dimming the lights significantly in our family room, I gave a fast, action narrative of our trip from our photos and videos shown on our widescreen TV. Kit injected short stories, and we had some good laughs along the way. I had learned a long time ago not to dwell on the media too long. Kit and KrisTy discussed the innuendoes of shipboard romances, as KrisTy had never been on a ship cruise. At that point, I excused myself to cover the bbq grill, turn off the lights on the back deck, and lock the doors.

**

Kit: Nice timing, Skip. While I was talking about shipboard romances, like I had any personal experience with them--really not--I turned partially toward KrisTy. I talked about observing some pretty lewd behavior on deck as the ship transited between ports at night. I described what was a very sexy and soft encounter between two passengers, who had met on deck one night and who were sitting on a bench watching the sea and the stars. The lady put her hand on the man's thigh, and at that point I had put my hand on KisTy's upper thigh as an illustration. To which, the man had likewise responded. KrisTy, so responded, playing along with my illustration. Finally, the woman had reached around the man's shoulder and pulled him in for a very deliberate, but slow kiss. The man went with the flow and quickly ramped up to open mouth kissing. And, at that point, KrisTy leaned over to me and put her hand round my shoulder and said, "Like this?" Instantly, my eyelids were fluttering, KrisTy's barely-there expensive perfume whispering its presence, my hand pulling her thigh closer, and KrisTy smiling with her perfect lips, sexy cheek dimple, and easy flowing, dark, sun-streaked hair, inching closer to my lips, finally pressing them firmly on mine, and ever so slightly opening her lips and teasing my mine with her soft, wet, warm tongue.