Passion & Perspective Ch. 05-07

"I'd like to relax a bit," she suggested.

"Certainly," he agreed, "Bed or love-seat?"

"Bed, I think, if it's okay with you."

"Surely." As they moved across the carpet, Mark looked to me. "Don, feel free to make yourself comfortable in any manner you wish. Sit on the chair, the bed if you prefer. Move around as you like." And then my wife unstrapped her sandals, kicked them off, reclined on the bed awaiting her new courtier.

He was quickly beside her. Once again they kissed, more passionately if possible. Although hands remained in relatively safe zones, their bodies writhed against each other, stimulating nerve endings. They seemed in no hurry to progress, and yet the movements evolved. His hand was on a knee, then moved up the thigh until it was a half dozen inches from her groin, she made no effort to stop him, indeed arranged herself to allow access. She unbuttoned his shirt to the sixth clasp, stroked his chest, it seemed to my view smooth with a modicum of hairs, when she touched a nipple he sighed.

She craned her neck, he moved his lips to it, then without haste to her collarbone, across the creamy flesh, to the periphery of her dress. It was she that pulled the fabric down, her left breast was exposed, the aureole dark, crinkled, the nipple carmine and extended. His lips surrounded the curvature, Molly leaned back, allowed his teeth to clasp the flesh, I felt my erection through my pants.

The couple on the bed - I was standing beside it - seemed to flounder, I realized they were jointly attempting to unzip the side of the dress and when that had been accomplished, pull it over her head. Their movements were inelegant, but I supposed they were beyond caring about that, abruptly Molly was naked except for the flash of fabric meant as a fig leaf.

She helped him pull his shirt off, then she gently pushed him until he was on his back. Molly unbelted him, pulled the zipper down and spread the fabric and the lump in his pants was exposed. He was wearing briefs, I saw, of a metallic navy interspersed with asymmetric flashes of pink, red, yellow. 'I should get a pair of those,' I thought. Molly fondled the enclosed mass, I looked to see Mark's reaction at the touch.

The pants were pulled off, and he was clothed as she was, only their pubic areas were covered, and not with much. She laid beside him again on her side, they kissed, mashed bodies together, legs intertwined, her breast against the side of his chest, one globe exposed, he fondled it, pinched a nipple, their groins were almost as close as, I felt sure, they were going to be during the ultimate act. He suckled again, bit slightly, and I heard her mutter, "Harder. Harder!" I never realized she liked that, but when she squirmed in an obvious rush of pain and pleasure, I knew I had things to learn that this man was teaching me. I wondered how many more lessons I'd have that night.

Another shift, Molly slid down the sheet, her head was now at the level of his waist. Molly pulled the cloth down, Mark was exposed. My examination showed that it was no larger than normal, slightly curved, circumcised. Molly stroked it with a finger, Mark breathed his pleasure. Molly bent, and the tip was touching her lips, she was kissing it, then she kissed down the shaft, her tongue moistened on the way back, and, at last, her lips opened and the rod was between them. Only a bit at first, I presume Molly was pondering the reaction of the man, then further, even further, until more than half was inside her mouth. She pulled the briefs down the legs, he kicked them off, and she fondled the testicles, dark and heavy. Mark's hand was on her head, toying with her locks. Other tricks were performed, long licks of the shaft, gentle sucking of a testicle, wanks of the shaft with a spit filled palm, but always the primary objective was a full fledged swallowing of the thick stem. I sensed Mark's difficult, uneven breathing, I wondered if Molly would go further than I anticipated, but at the last possible instance, it seemed to me, Molly released the penis. "Don," he exclaimed, "do you get that all the time? Oh, you're lucky." The compliment was rewarded by Molly with a kiss on his lips.

She postured herself on top of him, her breasts falling onto his chest, and then she spread her legs wide, wriggled, and the penis was entrapped between her legs. I visualized the tip emerging from between her limbs, the shaft obviously pressed to her labia. They bussed in this position for some time and then shifted again, Molly on her back, Mark to her side. Once again he kissed her neck, globes, even sucked a stray finger.

His hand wasn't idle, one was dripping across her belly around her hip, and then the stings were untied. I gasped! Molly was watching my face as I gazed at her mons, completely bare of hair. "Do you like it?" she said to me, "You've been asking for it."

"I do," I said, and Mark chimed in, "me too." And then a hand was stroking the smoothness, Molly kept her legs together a few seconds and then relaxed, I could see her blushing labia split in two by the deep slit, a small bit of flesh emerging from the folds. And soon Mark's fingers were feeling the puffy skin, then he touched the button and Molly's entire body twitched, as if she'd had a small jolt of electricity.

Her legs fell apart, the knees wide, and Mark's middle finger made an excursion into the earthy valley. "She's quite moist," Mark remarked, "is she always like that?"

"Sometimes," I answered.

"I'm wet," Molly yelled, "do something about it." The other man and I had a good laugh about that, and he went back to work, dipping his finger into the tunnel for moisture and to massage the top of her tunnel, then he'd withdraw it and fondle the clit. I could see it clearly now, thick and extended, filled with blood. Mark knew the craft of love, he drew her emotion out, soon Molly had her eyes sealed, she tensed, one hand was caressing a breast, the other clutched a pillow, and she held her breath, a long moment, and then uttered an explosive "Oh!" followed by a longer "ohhhhhhhhhh." Was it a little different from her normal squeal, or was I just imagining that? She tensed again, she released again, and again. Mark kept twirling his finger against her clit as she came for the first time that night, I didn't think it would be the finale.

She opened her eyes, smiled first at Mark, then at me, and remarked, "I think I'm done!"

"I don't think so," Mark protested, and he shifted until he had his head between Molly's upraised knees, he was licking and sucking the clit, the hole. Molly relaxed, enjoying the attention, I knew there was time before her next orgasm, and I took the moment to step back and enjoy the tableau. Molly was limp, her eyes slits, a glow covering her body, aureoles large, nipples elongated but not tight. One arm was spread to her side, the other drooped across her torso, gently stroking Marks ear.

I don't believe I'm gay, but I also enjoyed Mark's body, the strength of his muscles, the tenseness of his jaw as he lightly chewed on her clitoris. He was kneeling and I could see his penis drooping from his body, still erect if not as firm as it had been twenty minutes prior. I now saw what Michelangelo enjoyed about the male form.

Within moments, Mark's ministrations were rewarded by a warming of Molly's temperature, again she tensed, she exhaled in spurts, and there it was again, this time an "oh-ohh-ohhh-ohhhh!" Quickly she cooled, and Mark relaxed. I figured his jaw muscles were tired, mine normally are after such exercise, and they shifted until they were both in a half seated position, aside each other, their backs supported by the head board. They were relaxing, regaining strength for the next act, one which I was tremendously anxious to observe.

"You know, if you wanted to, you could take of your clothes," Don remarked to me.

"Yes, please, dear. I'd be a lot more comfortable."

I began to comply, my shirt was off, I neatly folded it, and while I was removing my slacks and briefs, Mark and Molly embraced again. By the time I was naked they were kissing and feeling each other again, Mark's hand was snaked across her rear and toying once again with the crevice, she was softly holding his peter, fiddling it into full firmness. Molly looked to me, smiled, "Are you having fun, dear?"

"Quite a bit."

"I'm glad." Then Molly climbed above Mark, a knee on either side of his hips, his hands were on her bubbles, and in that particular position, even though I thought there was little possibility of penetration, I was sure Mark's tip was right there. Her hand was behind her, clutching the rod, rubbing it back and forth between her legs. Were they going to go for it? Right then? But . . .

Mark saved the day, I thought, but Molly later told me no, she wouldn't have allowed it, they were just playing. "I presume you want to use a condom?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Molly replied, and I wondered where her purse was, then I remembered it was in the living room. Would I have to go get it, miss some of the action? But Mark said, "They're in the drawer there," pointing to the bedside table, the opposite side of the huge mattress from where the couple were passionately trifling.

"Would you mind getting one, dear?" I pulled the drawer open, seized a packet, climbed onto the side of the bed and handed it to my sweetheart. She scooted down until she was able to gain access to Mark's member, sucked a couple of more times to moisturize it, gave it a kiss on the tip, then rolled the plastic onto him.

"I'm ready, are you?" Molly asked, I wasn't sure if she was addressing me or Mark, and then she raised up above him, he shifted until he was barely sitting up, with the help of her hand the rod was vertical, and ever so slowly, she lowered herself. I was still on the bed, my head three feet from Mark's, and I clearly saw the first penetration, a hair, then a bit, then an inch, and finally the other man's prick was completely inserted within my wife - she had taken yet one more lover!

She was in no hurry, neither was he. His hands were on her hips, assisting her in the movements she desired, she shifted the leg furthest from me until it was in front of her, the sole flat on the bed, the limb nearest me was more to the side, I had an unobstructed view of the interment. I was as excited as they, if I held my own penis and rubbed it, I doubt they minded.

For an undetermined amount of time I concentrated on Molly's labia and how the plastic coated shaft was alternately inside her and then partly loosed - at one point Molly struggled so violently that it escaped and had to be reinserted - that I missed the rest of the visage, how Mark was trying his best not to release prematurely, how Molly's breast rose and fell with the exercise. But I finally tore my eyes from the lurid sight, and observed on my wife's face an attitude of great happiness, the joy of a little girl on her first roller coaster, the liveliness of receiving the perfect gift for her birthday. This action of taking a lover pleased her, how could I be anything but happy for her?

I watched as the color of her chest brightened, her nipples condensed, she moved her leg until she had the perfect balance, and the rhythm of her hips changed from up and down to forward and back, and she moaned her ohs. After perhaps twenty seconds she slowed, Mark was allowing her to completely control the act, after a complete stop of five seconds, she was back to it, furious and swift, until she at last calmed.

"Whew," she sighed, "that was a good one," and again she grinned at her new valentine, then at me. I was fairly certain Mark was still aroused, that he hand't released when he said, "Mind if we shift and I take you from behind?"

"Of course not," Molly agreed, and in the middle of the bed she kneeled, resting her torso on her elbows, her rump raised high. Mark kneeled behind her and plunged into her. In a way, this was even better, as he pulled back I could see the prick disengage, then when he slammed back in I watched Molly's breasts flow back and forth. Her cheek was now on the bed, facing away from me, so I was unable to observe what emotions she might be feeling as the man frankly had her. Within two or three minutes I watched Mark rise up, tense, then shudder. He was releasing into my woman, and I was glad for him.

They disengaged, Molly laid on her side, facing us, an abundant grin spreading across her face, she was proud that she'd been able to pleasure this man while enjoying herself immensely. Mark sat back, removed the rubber and deposited it into a waste can, offered Molly a tissue to wipe her bottom, used one on himself. He then leaned to Molly, kissed her again in gratitude for her service, she kissed him back in thanks, and then he offered, "Drinks, coffee? I have some key lime pie."

"A glass of water, very icey," Molly requested, "and a sliver of the pie."

"Coffee and pie for me," I said. Mark departed on his chore.

Molly came to me, we embraced. "Did you enjoy yourself? Was it what you wanted?"

"Even more so, you were fantastic," I complimented.

I felt her breasts against my chest, she sensed what I needed. "This poor little man needs some help," she offered, touching my rigidity.

"Do you think Mark will mind?"

She giggled. "I doubt it, after what he got. Come here." And she reclined, spread her legs. Quickly I was between them, I was inside her, where Mark had been, and we were making love as she and the other man had. She cooed me, touched my face, said "I love you," and even though I tried to control myself, I spurted hard into the womb of my love. After my throbbing was done, I collapsed onto my wife, my body in a complete crash, and I was still lying there when Mark rejoined us.

"Ahh, I was hoping you'd join the party. Glad to see you're with us," he told me,

"I think we made a mess on your sheets," Molly mentioned with a hint of amusement.

"That's what the good lord made washing machines for." Mark deposited a high-tech tray filled with our refreshment on the bed, moved through the room adjusting lighting. I got off of Molly, she took a comfortable half lotus position, completely exposed, unashamed, I leaned against the head board, Mark half reclined, roman fashion, and we began our repast, and chatted.

"This is a wonderful room," Molly told our host, "serene, but a little erotic, too." Most of the objects d'art were suggestively curved, a few were positively bawdy.

"I'm glad you think so, a friend helped me decorate it. Take that lithograph there," it was a sensitive depiction of a couple reclining on their left side, the woman in front, her full breasts laid bare, the man behind her, looking over her shoulder. The woman's expression was contentment, the man still had desire. "I picked it up in San Francisco, it's by Robert Wallace, he made quite a name for himself a couple of decades back. He passed last year, I'm sad for him but happy for me, the work has appreciated quite nicely." Molly asked about other works around crumbs of the pie - the 'morsel' had morphed into a full portion - and Mark explained the significance and derivation of each.

Soon we had finished the snack, Mark removed the tray to a nearby table, Molly boldly interrogated, "I'm a little surprised a woman hasn't snapped you up."

He turned back to us, I couldn't help but notice that his rod continued to droop but seemed thicker than it had a few moments before. "You want the story? All right." He returned to the berth, reclined near Molly on the opposite side of me. "I do have a woman I'm tremendously enamored with, I'd call it love, others might disagree about the definition. She's my ex-wife Dee, we've been divorced eighteen years next month. She lives on the opposite side of the city so we don't bump into each other accidentally. We care about each other deeply, get together every few weeks, travel together. The problem is that when we spend too much time with each other, we begin to fight like cougars. A week with her is wonderful, ten days is problematic, two weeks and we're at each other's throats. So we've decided to have a part time relationship, and what we do in between is our own business, neither of us has the gene that develops jealousy. In fact, a couple of months ago a girlfriend of Dee's from the west coast came to town, Dee suggested I take her out to dinner, it turned out rather well, and after the woman headed home Dee wanted a full book report. Many people think it's strange, but the relationship works for us."

Molly was now fully reclined, I was lying on her left side and Mark was on her right, close by. Mark stroked Molly's belly, she was almost purring, and when he circled north to a breast, her breaths formed a quiet song. I watched as she took his penis in hand, and was a bit surprised when she performed the same service for me simultaneously. "So tell me," Mark enquired, "what brought the two of you to this point?"

Molly indicated I should tell the story, so for three or four minutes I gave him the abbreviated account, that after decades of marriage our sex life was trite, I fantasized about her with other men, she was reluctant at first, then willing, how she'd begun our journey. While I was relating the tale, I noticed that Molly fondled both of us thoroughly, I was thick again and could see that Mark was in semi-erection.

After I'd completed the narrative, complete with a couple of questions from Mark to indicate he was paying attention, Molly announced, "Guys, I want to try an experiment. Mark, would you mind kissing me?" He half covered her, their lips met, his hand cupped a breast and twiddled the nipple, for her part she fondled his sac and the scepter above it quite thoroughly. They went on for three or four minutes, one hell of a 'kiss.'

She turned to me, "Now you, dear." I tried to match the other man, her lips were soft, and if they had a slight taste of the stranger I didn't object. While we nuzzled she paid every bit of attention to my baton that she'd ceded to Mark, and I let my hand explore her vaginal area. She was still quite puffy, and the doorstep was soggy - I wondered if it was from the deposit I'd left earlier, or was she joyfully anticipating another incursion? "Thank you so much, my dear," she whispered in my ear, then she turned to Mark again, without prompting he put his mouth to hers, the kiss mutated from sweet and gentle to raging, hard. He was groping her teat, tweaking the nipples stiffly, as he attacked her she stimulated his shaft with full strokes, he was now in violent hardness. I sensed that they would soon be united in fury, but my hand still rested on her opening. I was joyed that I could feel the throbbing of the skin as blood flowed to the area, that the slot widened of it's own accord, readying itself with ancient instinct.

Mark broke the kiss, begged of me, "I'd like to take Molly again, would you mind?" I just waved him on, and then got another condom ready, opening the packet and giving it to Molly, who rolled it onto him. He shifted, knelt below her, gathered two pillows and placed them beneath her bottom so that it was higher than her head, put both of her feet over his shoulder, rose vertically above her and plunged. Once again my wife was full of the visitor, helping him to push and beat inside her. It was, for him, an athletic endeavor, and he needed his arms and legs simply to maintain balance, tempo. Molly was alert, looking to me, smiling, and I leaned over and kissed her as the other man performed. "Touch me," she beseeched. I started at her breasts, heavier somehow, brushed the nipple, tentatively at first, then boldly following my instincts, my fingers traveled to her mons. It was shaking with the efforts of the man, and without concern for consequences, I grazed the clit, I heard Molly mutter, "Yes!" and I continued, my finger moving in the circle I know she delights in. There was no way to avoid the foreign pubic hair that descended on the back of my hand in rhythm, briefly my knuckle tapped against the plastic enclosed shaft that was pumping in and out, Molly's breaths came in spurts, a shudder parsed her body, it was over in seconds, I removed my hand.