Community Property

By Adam Gunn

When you marry a woman, you marry her family. Never forget that . . .

Back in the day, when the idea that sexual harassment in the workplace wasn’t that bad of an idea, I had this girl that worked for me. Debbie was cute, and if her clothes weren’t always the most current fashion, if a new blouse was something to be celebrated, I couldn’t complain; after all, the bank we were working for was only paying her $219 a week.

Debbie and I flirted, some of the gang would go out for drinks after work. One Friday night after everybody else went home, I invited her to my apartment ‘to see my collection of antique beer bottles’ and the rest was history. She stayed the night, then she stayed the next too. In the thirty-six hours, we didn’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom and find out what was in my refrigerator and how we might make it into something edible. We didn’t hide our affair very well, my boss gave me a little lecture that came down to ‘don’t do anything that’s going to embarrass the bank.’

We took our time that year, there was no hurry to do anything more than be together. We hit bars and dance clubs, went to every arts fair the city offered, with a group of sixteen of our friends we were at the midnight premier of The Return of the Jedi. In the easy going sexual environment of the eighties it would have been easy for us to sleep around, the cool thing to do was swap girlfriends, I could have had any number of women. But that meant Debbie would have been vulnerable to advances from the guys, and neither of us wanted that. We stayed faithful, it wasn’t difficult. When we met neither of us were accomplished lovers. She’d only had two men before me, I hadn’t had that many more women.

There was some angst when Halloween passed and she asked me if I was coming to her parents house for Thanksgiving. I’d met them already, but now I was going to be presented to the whole family. But it wasn’t any stress at all. There were fifteen or more people in the cramped suburban ranch and each one helped me fit right in. The surprise was Debbie’s sister, Doris. I knew she had a fraternal twin, they’d grown up very close – how could they help it? – but in high school they’d gravitated to different crowds, after their graduation Doris had headed out of state to college. And now she was home for the holidays!

This one was a knockout, blond feathered mane down to the middle of the back, glittered blouse that was filled with her femininity, jeans that seemed to be pasted on - I couldn’t help but notice the camel-toe. She smoked Virginia Slims with a calculated disdain, was the trouble that every man wanted to find. We chatted, with a laugh she accused me of being a capitalist chauvinist, but her innate mirth soothed my feelings. For a few seconds I had an incredible physical desire, I blindly wanted her, but of course, being the good boyfriend, I clamped my appetite. But throughout the afternoon I felt her eyes upon me, baiting me.

With her presence through December my routine with Debbie was disturbed. The two sisters seemed to want to catch up and many nights I spent by myself. Once or twice a week I’d have dinner with both of the girls, and I found Doris was really a nice person, once she decided to take off the mask of her insouciance. Her major was Political Science, she felt strongly about the growing wave of conservatism in the country, her goal was to head to Washington after graduation in a year and a half and get a job in government. Over the pizzas and Chinese food the two sisters would giggle and reminisce. And all the while I felt Doris’s gaze boring in to me.

One night Debbie had a Christmas party to go to, all the kids she met in community college were getting together, and she had a proposition for me. "Hey, why don’t you take Doris out, get to know her a little better."

"I think I know her fine," I responded.

"Yeah, but she’s alone tonight, you’re going to be alone, be nice to her . . . for me, okay?"

I caved, told her to tell Doris I’d pick her up at seven. We went downtown, walked past the decorations and into the department store where she wanted to see Santa. I laughed as she stood in line with the seven year olds, and when she sat on the elf’s lap and he asked her what she wanted, she whispered in his ear. Santa guffawed with the joke and gave me a manly look that confused me. Over a dinner of pasta we had a bottle of wine, then another, and when she put her hand on top of mine I didn’t remove it.

"Take me back to your place," she demanded in the car, and I was at that state of light drunkenness and thought 'okay!' While she hit the bathroom I poured us a drink, then lit a candle or two. "Oh, how romantic," Doris remarked sarcastically, and when we were on the couch she cuddled to me, our lips met. Her hands roamed my body, I was encouraged to do the same. I held her lavish breast in my hand, Doris opened her mouth to my tongue, we wiggled and clutched.

It was she that pulled her turtleneck over the long neck, the jet black bra was unsnapped, I was looking at the most perfect breasts I’d ever had the pleasure to visualize, even in my fantasies. They jutted from her rib cage conically, the nipples leapt from the skin, reaching for my mouth. Doris laid back, I crawled on top. Her hand reached for my trousers, my belt was released, my seething cock was encircled by her palm. Clumsily, she helped me disrobe, and when I was naked she pulled her jeans over her hips. The hair of her pubes was well trimmed, thin, the first time I’d ever seen a woman who’s bush wasn’t allowed to roam wildly. I bent below her, she raised her hips, my tongue dipped into the unholy tunnel, tasted her serum. It was sweet, that forbidden spot, and I desired nothing more than to fill it with my sword.

After no more than seconds, she pushed me away, "I’ve been wanting this so bad, fuck me!" Again, the first time I’d ever heard profanity during the deed. She flipped, knelt, presented her rump to me, I knew my place. It was waiting for me, that delightful cunt, I only had to stand behind her, point my prick, push.

And I couldn’t. My mind screamed at me, 'What the hell are you doing? You’re not only screwing around on your girlfriend, you’re doing it with her sister! Christ, what kind of cretin are you? Stop it!!!' I could have ignored my conscience, taken this most beautiful and willing woman. I’m sure I would have had a great time, I might have even gotten away with it. It might have been a wonderful memory through the ensuing decades, a high point of my life.

When I backed away and told Doris, "I can’t," she looked over her shoulder with a shocked demeanor. "You’re sure?" was all she said, and when I nodded, she picked up her clothes, walked slowly into the bathroom. But before she closed the door, she turned to me, displaying that phenomenal body, the legs that reached all the way up, the flat belly, the breasts that flowed like twin volcanoes, the crevice between her legs that longed to be impaled with the cock of a man. For thirty seconds she stood there, letting me simmer, and when I’d had a chance to reconsider the awful choice I was making, she loudly proposed, "You’re absolutely sure? This is your last chance."

Regretfully, I acknowledged the idiocy of the situation. "I’m sorry, I can’t."

She turned, the rump that consisted of two perfect orbs was revealed, the voice echoed from the bath, "Okay." And the door was closed.

She gave me plenty of time to put my clothes on, to regain the scraps of dignity I owned, to curse myself for seven kinds of fool. When the door opened again, she was dressed perfectly, the blond hair flowing, the lipstick I’d tasted perfect. "Can I get you anything?" I offered.

"We’d better not, I don’t think I’d want the disappointment again. Can you just take me home?" There was more anguish in the tone than fury. The drive was silent, save for David Bowie flowing from the cassette deck, when we reached the block her parents lived on she had me stop fifty yards from their door.

She reached over, pulled my face to her, for a long moment our lips touched, our tongues weaved. Then her dark eyes surrounded by long lashes searched mine and she proclaimed, "You’re an idiot. My sister deserves you." The door was opened, I watched her walk away in her leather jacket, that tremendous ass swishing, and I had no choice but to regret my chivalry. I slept but little that night.

The next morning I got to work, a few minutes later Debbie arrived, a crisp face, a joyful posture. "Did you and Doris have a good time last night?"

"It was fun," I responded.

"I’m so glad," she smiled, and agreed quickly when I suggested a tête-a-tête that night. I burned for her all that day, as soon as the books were balanced we drove quickly to my place, she understood my need, stripping quickly and bouncing on the bed. She didn’t seem to mind when, less than fifteen minutes after we started, I spewed deep into her. That didn’t stop us, we were furious for each other, we didn’t slow down for food or drink. An hour later she presented her ass to me and begged me, for the first time, to penetrate her virgin anus.

Less than a week later we celebrated the Christian holiday. I attached myself to Debbie’s entire family as we attended their parish for Christmas Eve worship, singing 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' and 'Silent Night.' Later we exchanged gifts in their living room. Doris was collected and quite cool; it was as if we hadn’t seen each other naked, the unfinished passion had never happened.

The week between the holidays I saw Doris a couple times, a dinner, a party. Other than an occasional smirk at me, she seemed warm but not particularly cozy, we coexisted without rancor. Just after the stroke of Midnight, as the year merged into the next, we kissed for luck, just the requisite peck. Two days later, she was heading back to her campus, the strain I felt was lifted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Debbie and I were in love, or the youthful emotion that passes for the predicament, and in the early summer we traveled with another couple we were close to. Our destination was Niagara Falls and at dusk on the bank with the torrent flooding by us I knelt and showed Debbie the ring I’d selected, said the requisite four words to which she replied, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" and we were applauded by the nearby gawkers. Her mother and she went to work, we were married in the fall by their pastor.

Less than two years after the ceremony Debbie revealed she’d missed her period, we had a girl, followed three years later by my son. For two and a half decades we had a life not much different from millions of others, sports and celebrations, sicknesses and minor wounds, three houses, each larger and grander than the last, promotions and disappointments, quibbles and catastrophes, but mainly the joy of a successful and happy marriage.

Our families were a part of our lives, our parents retired, grew old and one passed on to the next world. Our siblings had children we cherished. And, of course, there was Doris. Her life was not quiet. After college she headed to Washington, got a job with a congressman, was let go with some rancor, apparently there had been rumor of an infidelity. She traveled from city to city, two weddings and the same number of divorces, until she was in her late forties. Physically she’d aged well, her beauty remained. When she came to visit and we’d meet in a lounge, I’d watch the men lust after her and I couldn’t but join them. I wondered if age and gravity had much effect on those lovely breasts, if her arse was still as bewitching. But nothing in those decades ever passed between us, no talk of the near infidelity we’d been complicit in. When she would give me a kiss on the cheek, I wondered if she remembered that illicit behavior years ago, possibly cared after the profusion of men that had shared her charms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I picked the house phone up, Debbie was out shopping. "Hi, Jon, it’s Doris."

"Hello, how are you?"

"Fine, just grand. Listen, I’m coming into town for a few days, I was wondering if I could use your guest bedroom?"

"Sure, of course. What’s going on?" There was no reason for her to be visiting, no one sick, no weddings or funerals.

"Oh, the University wants to talk to me, they may have a job open."

"Really!"

"Yes, I’ll tell you and Debbie all about it when I get there."

"Can we pick you up?"

"No, I’m fine, I’ll rent a car at the airport. See you Sunday!"

There she was, standing on our porch, after she and Debbie embraced, she gave me the family hug, I took her suitcase to the guest bedroom. We went out to dinner that night, Doris told us of the job offer, a teaching position in the school of Political Science. We were excited for her, Debbie was particularly happy. "Oh, we’ll see you all the time then!"

"If I take it, but I might not."

We had an after dinner drink in the living room before I headed for bed. Sometime later, I was woken by the familiar caresses of my wife, she was dragging me to her body, stripping me of my pajamas, taking my member into her mouth. With my hands I gave her what she needed, she had to stifle herself not to give away her implosions to the other woman sleeping in the room on the other side of the hall. She wanted to take me in cowgirl, I allowed her the boon, I came well, my fluids filled my wife, she seemed happy, satisfied.

We laid together, reclaiming our breath. "Well, that was a surprise," I complimented.

"Sorry," she giggled, "I just had to have you. You know being around my sister always gets me going." She was right, we always seemed to have better sex, and more of it, when Doris was in the locality.

"Why is that?" I wondered.

"I don’t know. Well, maybe it’s that she gets to do what I always wanted to do."

I was shocked. "You want to sleep with other men?"

"No! Oh, no, no. I don’t really want to do it with them, but when Doris is around I see what she does to men. Look at the way you were looking at her tonight! You wanted her so bad again, I could see it, and I guess the thought of it just makes me sexy."

I tried to deny it. "Oh, honey, I don’t want your sister. I’m fine with you, you know that."

"Sure you do. You don’t have to deny it, I don’t mind."

The pregnant word 'again' echoed in my skull. "Honey, you don’t think I’ve ever done anything with her, do you?"

"Just that one time. And ever since, you’ve been the perfect gentleman."

"What one time?"

"Before we were married, we weren’t even engaged, remember? It was that first Christmas together. I knew it would happen, I didn’t mind."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I even encouraged her. You see, I thought you were a great lover. But what did I know, I didn’t have any experience, and Doris knew everything about sex. So I told her if she wanted the two of you could, you know, and then she could tell me if I was right."

"And what did she tell you?"

"That you were very romantic, that your penis is larger than normal, and that I was lucky to get a lover like you."

“Huh?"

"Of course, I was worried that you’d like her more than me, but when you begged me to come over the next night and we had that great sex, I knew you loved me. So everything was just fine. Remember?"

I thought for a few seconds, then I knew I had to correct her. "I want to tell you my side of it. Certainly I remember those two nights. I didn’t want to go out with Doris that night . . . "

"Why not?"

"Well, I had work to do. And maybe I was a little afraid of what might happen. But you were pretty insistent, so I went ahead. We got drunk, and when she asked if I had any more wine at my apartment I invited her back. But I didn’t have any idea that anything was going to happen. But then, well, she sort of threw herself at me, and played around a little bit, but I broke it off before anything happened. That’s the absolute god-honest truth!"

She smiled. "So, you didn’t have sex with her?"

"No, we didn’t."

"So how does she know you’ve got a big dick?"

"Well, she felt it, with her hand."

"Did you touch her?"

I had to be honest. "Yes. We got naked."

"And did she give you oral sex?"

"No. But I did it to her. As a matter of fact, she’s the last girl I ever did anything at all with."

"You big lug!" She tousled my hair, the heat started to rise again in the martial bed. I kissed her breasts, and yes, I wondered if Doris’s tits were still as wonderful as they’d seemed that night. When I touched Debbie’s g-spot, I recollected the magic of Doris’s slippery tunnel. And when Debbie came, I truly wished that all those years ago I would have placed my tool inside of Doris, had given her what she wanted to take from me that night.

For the second time we were calming, my wife questioned, "So you chickened out at the last moment with Doris, huh?"

"I didn’t chicken out, I just decided I should be faithful to you."

"Awwww." We cuddled for a few moments, then she said, "Well, you’re an idiot. But I love you. Listen, I’m only going to tell you this once. I’m pretty sure Doris wants to take you to bed. And I know you want her badly. So if anything ever does happen, I won’t mind."

"I would never . . ."

"Shush! If it happens with Doris, it happens. It would be just fine with me. But no other girls, okay?" She wouldn’t let me respond, wouldn’t let me tell her that I would never, she just went to sleep, her head on my shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like everyone else, I have my urges. Let’s suppose I’m trying to lose a little weight, and there’s a candy bar in the cupboard. Even though I know it’s not good for me, even though I know I shouldn’t, I want to eat that candy bar! Doris was like that. For a very long time.

Doris wound up taking that professorship, we helped her find an apartment not far from the college. The two sisters joyfully regained their close friendship, they had solitary dinners, but just as often we met Doris at a restaurant or Debbie cooked for the three of us. If there was a family event, Doris came, she always seemed to have the biggest and hippest presents at birthdays. And all through it, not a word was ever said between Doris and I about my urge, if I caught her glancing at me wistfully I assumed I was making it up.

Doris had boyfriends, we knew of them, at least a couple of them, we even met one at a pub. A couple of years went by, my fiftieth birthday approached, plans were made for a blowout at my parent’s house. It was in the summer, I love the fact that my special day has always been nice and warm, the sister’s celebration is always held in the season of frost. A tent was pitched in the back yard, over fifty people showed up, I was showered with love. A couple of hours after the catered buffet was over, people started to drift off. It was down to a dozen or so adults, we’d had too much beer and wine but just the right amount of laughter.

I moseyed out to the garden in the darkness with my wife, the adjoining woods were quiet, the fireflies flickered around us. For awhile we reminisced, she made sure I was happy, I assured her my life was perfect. Then she headed back to the party, telling me I should rejoin the group before too long.

But I didn’t really want to be with all the other people, I was simply letting myself fly a little, wondering where my life would end up. Behind me I heard footsteps, a soft hiccup. "Sit down," I offered.

"Don’t mind if I do," Doris agreed, and beside me on the sturdy wooden swing built for two we swayed. She’d worn a sun dress that day, in the gloom I could discern those legs, still long, still svelte. She refilled my glass with the bottle she’d brought with her. "Fifty years, huh?" she remarked. "One hell of a long time."

"I guess. Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. You know, you’ll be here in January."

"Sure. But so much water over that damn dam!" She toasted me. "So, tell me, what are your plans for the next fifty?”

I threw out the usuals. Travel, grandchildren, thoughts for the remainder of my career. "Loves?" Doris asked.

"I’ve got the one love of my life, I don’t think I need more."

A little drunkenly, Doris remarked, "You two have never done anything, have you? No affairs, no straying."

"Nope. I never felt the need, I don’t think Debbie ever has either."

"But you’ve had itches, right? Every man has."

The biggest itch was sitting beside me, though I certainly couldn’t tell her that. "A few, I guess. But it always felt easier to just ignore them."

"Easier, or safer?"

"Easier," I confirmed.

"Remember that one night?"

"You and me?"

"Uh-huh."

"I do, I’ve thought about it, of course. You’re the last woman I was ever with."

"But we weren't really together. Do you regret that?"

"No, I honestly don’t," I confirmed. "I wanted to, but I didn’t want to hurt Debbie, you know that. I didn’t that night, I’ve never done it since."

"Well, I regret it," Doris admitted. "There’s something about you that’s as sexy as any man I’ve ever been with. Oh, don’t get a big head, we both know you’re not god’s gift, but there’s something about you." Then, without asking, she flowed to me, gave me the nicest birthday kiss I’ve ever had. It lasted for a very long time, I was in no hurry to finish it. It was just a kiss, but it was filled with the cravings we felt for each other. I could have gone further, Doris wouldn’t have complained had my hand gone to her bosom, between her thighs, but I chose not to. I loved my wife, this seemed enough of an endangerment. But while it was happening, I enjoyed every sensation.

Later that night in our privacy, Debbie wrapped another present for me in pink chiffon, we made love wildly in the den. And as I enjoyed my wife’s body, yes, I thought to that of her sister and the words 'I’m only going to tell you this once' echoed in my mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We caught up with Doris less than a week later, a brunch at a waterside restaurant, and perhaps I imagined it, but Debbie’s sister seemed just a little more flirtatious, a tad more voluptuous. Her slit skirt bared most of her leg, her delicate blouse revealed every bit of lace in the bra. And yet nothing was said, no touches between us were hidden from Debbie.

We continued in that vein for months. A slow simmer existed in my brain and below my belt that Debbie was the recipient of, she enjoyed the increase in sexual activity, looked for new and better ways of making love to me. I often recollected the offer she’d made the night her sister had come to town. At times I desperately wanted to take advantage of it, yet at other moments I told myself I was a happily married man that wanted no woman other than his wife. I never brought up the quagmire to either my wife or the woman I wished for a lover, to do so would bring the situation to a head, and I felt that was something I didn’t really need.

It was in the early days of December that Debbie and I chatted over dinner. "Betty and I were talking today. Remember how she’s going on a tour to Iceland?"

I dimly recalled the situation, eight women heading for a week to Reykjavik in February to see the Northern Lights. "Yeah."

"Well, one of the girls had to drop out, and Betty wants me to take her place."

"Do you want to?"

“They’re a fun bunch, and it’s really not much at all." She told me the details and she was right, the trip was eminently affordable, I gave her my blessing. She spent the next couple of months happily going over brochures, probing stores and online sites for the best deals in serious cold-fighting clothing, suitcases and accessories, I kept my hands off and let her have her fun.

If the Christmas and New Year’s kisses between Doris and I were warmer than in the past, Debbie didn’t complain and no further involvement between her sister and I developed. And yet, when I discovered that Doris was taking a graduate student to bed, I became strangely concerned, even protective in my conversations with Debbie. But I said nothing to Doris.

The days after Valentines passed, Debbie was ramping up even more for her expedition. The night before she left I took her to dinner, steak because she was certain she’d only get seafood in Iceland, and she asked, "Got any plans for while I’m gone?"

"Not really. I might go to a basketball game with the guys. Other than that, I’ll probably be pretty quiet."

"Hmmmmm," was her only response.

I tucked her into the airport on Saturday afternoon for her flight to the gateway city of Boston, we curtly kissed and embraced as her compatriots queued for the security line, I got a call from her just before her flight headed across Canada’s maritime provinces telling me how much she loved me.

My phone rang the next morning. "Hi," Doris’s voice sounded, "did I wake you?”

"Nope, it’s after ten o’clock. I’m reading the paper."

"Why don’t you take me to brunch?"

Why not, I thought. "Sure. Pick you up at 11:30?"

"Okay."

She was waiting for me in the lobby of her aged building. Before World War II it was one of the premier residences in the city, door man, luxurious trappings. In the ensuing decades it’s glory had faded, now it was still well kept up but it’s apartments were filled with graduate students and pensioners. Doris liked it because it was only a mile from the University and two blocks from a trendy shopping district, yet still quiet and the rent was reasonable. We headed off to a bistro, her attire was casual but very sexy. Jeans, an off the shoulder sweater, high heels. "So you’re a bachelor this week, huh?"

"It appears so."

"Got big plans? Going to hit the town?"

"Hardly. I’ll just be quiet, I guess."

The topics during the meal were easy-going, how her classes were shaping up and the chore of writing the mid-terms, if I was going to plant more grass seed in the spring. And yet, there was an undercurrent I sensed, perhaps an overture. What would happen, I wondered, if she invited me up to her apartment?

At the end we split the check and she said, "Listen, I need to do some shopping, and then I really need to do my lesson plans for this week. But maybe you’d like to come up for dinner tomorrow night? I could make pork loin."

"What can I bring?"

"Oh, maybe some wine. See you sevenish?" And with a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of my arm, she was gone.

I was a bit of a wreck that evening and the next day. If I laid in bed, fantasized and masturbated, I hoped Debbie would forgive me. When I was a little scatterbrained during my meetings at work, no one called me on it. And when I found a parking spot on the street a block from Doris’s building my brow may have been moist.

Doris buzzed me in, in the foyer of her apartment she accepted my wine and proffered upon me a kiss on the cheek, the points of her bra grazed my chest. The music was light classical, the candles on the table twinkled. One of the 'problems' with living on an upper floor of her building is that the radiators in the rooms below her warmed her apartment. Even though the windows were wide open in February, the temperature in her main room was over seventy-five degrees, and she was dressed for it. Slacks, bare feet, a loose blouse. She encouraged me to take my tie off, loosen the button which I gladly did. She had a cheese plate and white port waiting for me, we chatted as she puttered in the kitchen. As she bent to open the oven door, I noticed her bra was navy hue.

The dinner was excellent, the wine I’d brought seemed to pair well. At my urging Doris recalled stories from her early years in politics, and that melded into ribald tales of the seduction techniques that politicians and staffers had used to lure her into bed, sometimes successfully. As we piled dishes into the washer we bumped into each other, sometimes more often than necessary.

Then she poured us each a snifter of Grand Marnier and led me to the sofa. There was little light in the room except for a corner lantern and three or four candles flickering. "We’ve been flirting with each other for what, near thirty years?"

"Something like that," I agreed.

"And you’ve been the perfect gentleman. Debbie’s a lucky woman to have you. But there’s a part of me that thinks she may not care that we’re sitting here tonight."

"I know she doesn’t." My mind returned to her words of, 'and if anything ever does happen, I won’t mind.'

"Remember, before you were married, that night? We almost made love, but you didn’t want to at the last second?"

"Yes, I remember."

"You know, Debbie expected we’d sleep together."

"Yes, she told me. Did she ask you about it later?"

"She wanted to know if I thought you were a good lover, she hadn’t had much experience. Even though you’d disappointed me, I told her you were. She was grateful."

"You also told her I had a big penis."

"That part I was sure of. It was a pretty good size! Has it shrunk since?" With a laugh from both of us I told her I didn’t think so.

She came a little closer on the sofa, intentionally pressed her left breast against my arm. "This, I think, is our chance. If you want me, you can have me. If you don’t, I’ll understand. But if you do . . ."

Her words were muffled by my mouth. That first kiss was languid, in a moment it turned lively. My left hand went to her breast, cupped it, she pushed it into my palm. We wrestled on the couch, I was above her, I pushed her shirt up, almost tore the cotton of her bra as I pulled those superb breasts from them, the nipples were ample and hard with eagerness. I sucked on them, I sensed her muscles constrict, her breath quicken. She pushed me to the side, stood. Looking me in the face, she stripped herself of the shirt, reached around and undid her bra. The breasts were even larger than I remembered, if they sagged slightly with the years I had no reason to complain. When her pants were peeled from her long legs I leaned forward to touch them and when she pulled her panties down I viewed the most lovely pussy, there was no hair at all to hide the thick flesh of her skin split by a center column, I knew within laid the secret to her eroticism. I touched it, the fog between her legs was already moist. "Come with me," she urged and I followed her to the bedroom.

She ignited two candles, then while kissing me she took my shirt off, my belt was unfastened, she helped me kick my socks, pants and underwear off, together we were naked. My dick was hard, it had every reason to be, and she seized the rod in her palm. "I was right, it is larger than most others." Towards her mouth she pointed it, and suddenly I felt the head wrapped in the warmness of her mouth. She bobbed, with each movement I felt the wetness and the heat, each nerve of the shaft prickled. I know it twitched, my new lover felt it. "If you need to let go, I won’t mind, but if you can, save it for me." She went back to her suction, I was torn. I wanted to let my stream fill her mouth, yet I also wished her to think I was a man. Before she could bring me to completion I pushed her away, her back met the bed.

I was on top of her, our kisses were fierce, I savored the feel of her soft breasts pushing into my chest. Her legs were spread, I could have penetrated her then, but I resisted, sinking down, sucking at those wonderful nipples, then further until my temples were pressed against the inside of her thighs, my mouth was postured at the cleft. I tasted the drips of her vapor, it was not sweeter than my wife, yet more perfumed.

As I performed the act of lewdness, my mind drifted to a thought of Debbie, that I was betraying her. Yet I remembered her words, 'If it happens with Doris, it happens, I won’t mind.' And I exorcised Debbie from my conscience.

The woman I was with seemed completely relaxed, yet the noises from her throat seemed lusty. "Do you like this?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, keep going," she encouraged me, and I felt her hand at the top of my head. I used my finger to probe deep inside her, while there were similarities with her sister’s interior anatomy, there were also differences. She seemed a bit looser, the roof of her canal was spongier, I had to prod further before I reached the cervix. All the while, I received little feedback other than Doris’s deep and resonant breathing.

I felt her legs move, with her knee she pushed me away, I laid my head on the pillow. She knelt beside me, again my rod was in her mouth. As she gave fellatio I felt the weight of her breasts, bigger than any I’d touched before. The years had been kind to her, as they hung from her rib cage they retained the cone shape I recollected, the pinkness of the circles spread around the tips, when I pinched her nipples she twitched but didn’t ask me to stop.

Apparently, I’d reached the state of hardness she desired, and swiftly she swung a knee to the other side of me, rose above me, used a hand to position my penis and quickly plummeted. I was entrenched within her as far as possible, her hips began a beguiling back and forth motion. I tried to restrain myself, I truly didn’t wish to ejaculate prematurely, but the motions she used were too enthralling. "I’m coming," I whispered, and her response was to speed her movements. "Go ahead, I know you need to."

Without any lingering, I felt my toes curl, the hairs on the back of my neck starched, my nipples hardened until they hurt, and my balls sent a spate of heavy liquid through the center of my rod until it came spilling into the deepest schism of my new lover. She sensed it, I know she did, and she kept moving, accepting this nectar, and cooed to me as I spent. I don’t know her emotions at the moment, I know only that I seemed to be a part of a fleshy rite, that a great portion of me merged into her.

After my grunts subsided she slid down onto me, we kissed slowly and ardently, each inch of my body that touched hers relished the sensation. "Was it good?" she asked.

"Perfect," I extolled. Then, after a few seconds, "Did you come?"

"Oh, yes, three or four times. Don’t worry, I’m very quiet about it. Most of my lovers can’t figure me out. But you were absolutely great!"

She rolled from me, trundled off to get us glasses of ice water, necessary after the steamy exertion. When she reentered the room, as nude as a painting of Venus and as unashamed, I couldn’t help but make a comparison with Debbie, who rarely let me see her without clothing. We cuddled, talking of nothing subjects, she let me play with those flawless breasts, finger between her legs. I noticed at times that she became very still, relaxed yet at the same time tense, I could only assume that was the manifestation of her satisfaction. Eventually, after perhaps forty-five minutes of this playtime, I gained rigidity once again, she encouraged me to spread myself on top of her, bury myself inside her again. This time my body wasn’t so quick to require zenith, we rolled together most pleasurably. I found that Doris enjoyed being the screw-master, she pulled me into sexual positions at her whim, from missionary to doggie, then to more esoteric adjustments. I seem to remember her on her side, hugging my knees as I propelled into her. After a very long time I felt my juices flowing, again she sensed my explosion, she positioned herself to receive every splash.

"You don’t need to go home, do you?" she pled, and when I voicelessly agreed to stay we fell asleep holding each other. My dreams were happy, nothing awoke me until I smelled the coffee brewing. She served me a cup in bed, wearing nothing but a tremendous grin, as I sipped she petted the toy she’d so much enjoyed in the previous hours. If I held one of those breasts or poked one of my fingers between her legs, she’d smile and encourage me. I’m sure we would have made love again, except she was due on campus for a faculty meeting before classes began.

I dropped her off in front of her hall, she kissed me on the lips, said, "Can I see you tonight?"

"Sure," I agreed, "What time?"

"As soon as you can get there, I’ll be home by four."

I stopped at home to shower and change, was barely late for work. The chores of the day were made easier by the flashbacks of Doris’s antics. One of the admins mentioned I was in a good mood, and I was! I had reason.

I snuck out of work a little early, rare for me, and hopped directly over to Doris’s. She buzzed me in, and when I got to her floor I found her door cracked. Knocking, I got the answer, "Come on in!" I found her at her desk, grading papers, dressed in a sheer bodystocking. "Make us a drink," she offered, "I’ll be with you in a few moments." After I’d poured the spirits, I sat to watch her, she knew I was observing. She’d wiggle, write some remarks on the paper, then catch my eye. Just a few minutes later, she stood up, approached me, twirled, letting me see every attribute she had disguised only by a thin mesh. "You like?"

"I like very much," I acknowledged, and when I made a grab for her she obliged. I felt her kisses on my face, my hands were full of her, when I placed a finger at her lower opening she spread for me, I noticed she wasn’t quite as moist as I remembered from the previous evening, I knew I’d be able to bring her along. In between my forays into her anatomy, with her help I got naked, and that’s when it got interesting.

"I know what you want," she teased, and then she bent and my dick was in her mouth. Her licking and sucking was just as potent as they had been the night before, and it seemed she really wanted to give me a blow job. This was a treat for me, although Debbie would go down on me, there’s always been an undercurrent that it’s a favor she’s presenting me with. Doris, on the other hand, seemed to actually enjoy giving head. I tried my best to delay my reaction, but when she placed a red fingernail at my anus and pushed in, I percolated strongly. "I’m coming!" I warned, this caused her to suck harder and press my prostate briskly, I felt the sap rising from me, I knew Doris’s mouth was overflowing with my sperm. When I was done she looked at me and made sure I could watch her swallow. Sitting on my lap, she told me, "You taste good," and I didn’t mind when she kissed me and I sensed the slime I’d coated her tongue with.

I was still hard, or hard enough, and she stuffed it inside her, we played, perhaps she orgasmed. Of course I couldn't keep my erection very long, after that the play was relegated to fingers and oral, but it was so much fun!

After an hour or so, we’d worn each other out, we were lying on the floor, she asked, "Are you hungry? We could go get a salad or something." "Sure, sounds good." She rose, disappeared into the bedroom, I knew she was getting ready to go out, I found and untangled my clothes, I was ready a few moments before she emerged. Once again she surprised me, although her slacks and heels were conservative, above her waist she’d simply put on a blazer, revealing only fishnet below. I was sure that if she turned quickly, anyone might get a ravishing view of her impressive tits. I helped her on with the winter coat, we traipsed a couple of blocks to a restaurant, quiet and dark on this Monday evening. I sat across from her, had that lovely view of the valley between her orbs, as we ate I noticed a steady stream of men presumably heading for the rest room, in reality checking out my date. I didn’t mind, in fact I got a little kick out of it. A couple of times, I noticed, she actually yanked the edge of her blazer to give the man she fancied a better look.

Back at her apartment we went to the mattress again, she seemed more ready this time, reacting to my ploys, I was sure I caught her in an orgasm, and half an hour later when we spooned, her back to me and my hardness inserted she got me to ooze inside her.

I wondered if I should stay, she didn’t insist I remain, perhaps we could both use a good night’s sleep she hinted. And sleep well, in my own bed, I did, with dreams of my lover commingling with that of my wife.

Doris wouldn’t let me see her the next few nights, alluding to lectures she was required to attend, work that needed to be finished, but she accepted my invitation to a Belgian restaurant on Friday night, the last there would be before Debbie returned from Iceland. My wife had texted me often, it was less expensive than phone calls, I’d had tales and pictures of the Northern Lights seen from an airplane, soaking in thermal waters during a snowstorm, gourmet meals. Strangely, I didn’t feel much guilt about my adultery, taking comfort in the permission for this excursion she’d once given me.

After I picked her up, Doris vamped at the restaurant while we ate our mussels and frites. Her antics were for my benefit, yes, but she was well aware that other men were enjoying the sexy blond with the middle aged man. And when we returned to her apartment, our love making was lethargic and delicious. In the interludes between bouts she wouldn’t allow me to talk of what might go on after Debbie’s return, saying only that we have this moment, there’s no need to worry about what will be. I slept there that night, in the morning we lounged, naked, and played through our lunch.

I returned to our home, cleaned the house, washed or took to the dry cleaners any clothes I’d worn around Doris, tried to eradicate any evidence of my infidelity. I think I was successful. Late that night, I picked Debbie up at the airport, she was tired but anxious to reconnect with me. On the drive home she told me more about her trip, and asked, "What did you do while I was gone?"

"Just hung out mostly," I lied.

"Did you see Doris?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, we went out to dinner last night."

"I’m glad. You two have become such good friends!"

I made love to Debbie that night, I was surprised at my ardor for her, actually amplified by my perfidy. Her body was ready for me, when she came I knew it, her gasps and shuddering was a treat compared to her sister’s calmness. And when we cuddled for sleep, I appreciated my wife as much, even more, than my lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nine days later Debbie scheduled a hair appointment that would last until at least eight o’clock, when I discovered the opportunity I begged Doris for a few hours with her, she agreed rapidly. Our lovemaking that night was arduous and complete, I was beginning to understand her body, she had no troubles making mine do whatever she desired.

Over the weeks other opportunities developed, business meetings I invented, nights that Debbie had things planned with her girlfriends, weekend afternoons when I’d leave for 'the store' and be missing a few hours. Doris never complained that I had limited time to spend with her, never asked me to sneak away with her when it wasn’t convenient.

I imagine an outsider who knew the score would have laughed at my demeanor the first time Doris came to our house for a dinner. She gave no indication to Debbie that anything was abnormal, didn’t flirt with me, at least not anymore than she did before we became lovers. While it took me awhile to calm down, the sisters joked and kidded normally.

One evening, when I was with Doris at her apartment, we were lying naked after the act, and I asked, "Are you okay with this?"

"You mean our affair?"

"Is that what it is?"

"That’s what I’ve always called it. I’ve had affairs with other married men you know. This seems pretty normal to me."

"You don’t mind that I can’t see you as often as you’d like?"

"It’s fine," she insisted. "I know I have to take what I can get, for as long as you want to give it to me. After that, I’ll still be fine."

"You think this is going to end?"

"I don’t want it to. You’re a wonderful lover, I enjoy your company. But one of these days I suspect you’ll start feeling guilty, you’ll get tired of the deceits we have to go through, you’ll have had enough of me." She looked at me, sensed I was interested in her observations. "When that happens, I’ll feel a little sad. But I won’t go to pieces. After my first affair with a married man I was a bitch. I’d expected him to leave his wife, his children, and when he threw me away I was devastated. It took me almost a year to get over it.

"The second time was almost as bad as the first, but then I figured it out. Married men, the nice ones, like to have another woman, but eventually they get tired of me, or they can’t handle it, and now it hardly bothers me, I expect it. And, I suspect, you’ll wind up feeling the same. The only worry I have is that we can’t hurt Debbie’s feelings when it happens. So, when you’re ready to let me go, let’s be very nice to each other, for her sake, okay?"

I didn’t like her words, I hadn’t wanted to think about anything other than exactly what I had, a loving wife, a willing and seductive mistress. But the more I thought about it, I realized Doris was experienced in the cycles of adultery, I needed to follow her lead.

Not that I was ready to end what we had, when I could make time for her Doris was exuberant, willing to give me whatever I wanted. She let me satisfy her as she enthralled me, our time together, even when we weren’t in bed, was breathtaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the most intense heat of the summer, Debbie and I were watching a romantic comedy, a man caught between two women, and when the credits started rolling Debbie turned to me and we kissed. Then, the question every man in my position dreads. "Dear, are you having an affair?"

I wanted to hide. I wanted to say, "Of course not!" but I couldn’t bring myself to lie directly. Rather than verbally admit my sin, I simply hung my head, a implicit admission of my guilt. I expected wrath from my wife, she simply continued, very calmly. "Is it with Doris?"

"Yes," I muttered. Then I followed it with, "I’m sorry," an apology I knew was insincere even as I mouthed it.

"Why, whatever for?" I stopped. I had to. Although her mien was serious, I couldn’t detect anger. "Really," she continued, "it’s all right. As long as it’s with Doris. I don’t mind."

"You don’t?" I said incredulously.

"No, not at all. I’ve suspected for the longest time. And I see it’s made you happy."

"Then it’s all right?"

"Perfectly, as long as it’s only Doris."

She pulled me to her, her lips soothed the blush on my face, the confusion in my spirit. Suddenly I wanted her, Debbie grasped my abrupt need, with her hands on my back she encouraged my vital desire. She raised her shirt over her head, unsnapped the bra, put one of her tiny breasts to my lips to be sucked on. Her hand was on my lap, I’m sure she sensed the hardness encased in the cotton. I wanted her badly, this woman, this wife. I was rough, throwing her back, stripping her of her garments, discarding mine at the same time. When my face met the rough strands of her thick pubic hair my tongue pushed past it, the soddenness of her vaginal lips gave her readiness away.

As I tongued her clit, used a finger deep inside her, she began to moan, faintly to begin and then, as I increased my pressure and tempo, the groans increased in volume until a roar escaped from her diaphragm, her skin colored as blood reached every inch of her surface, she bucked under me. I kept her up there as long as I could, taking enjoyment in the zenith I was providing for her and it was only when I heard her say, "That’s enough," that I moved.

My penis was ready for her, she wanted it and spread her thighs broadly, there on the couch I skewered her. I watched her face as she stretched to accept me, the cheeks glowed, the mouth opened while the eyes shut tightly, the nostrils spread. I pushed, hard, into her, her body propelled the length of the cushion, her legs tightened around me. Again and again I thrusted, again and again she reacted. Another orgasm encompassed her, I doubt she was aware of her surroundings, of the fact that she was getting screwed by a man who’d been unfaithful to her. And I didn’t think of my lover, I thought only of pleasing this woman who was my wife, my companion, who deserved every shard of my attention. I knew what to do, how to do it. In a brief lull I turned her, she was on her stomach now, cushions under her belly, I was fucking her harder. When I reached around and put a thumb into her mouth she sucked on it hard, and when I used that same wet thumb to penetrate her rectum she yelped, but I could tell it was nothing but pleasure for her, I screwed her in both places to noises of supreme indulgence. Her enthusiasm seemed to be flagging, she slipped to the floor, on her back she reached for me, I filled her again. "Your turn," she whispered into my ear, and I concentrated on the friction of my penis inside her sheath, willed my semen to leave it’s nest, heavily I spent into her, the mother of my children. It was wonderful, that release, and when I recovered I saw her bright eyes welcoming me to her ardor. "I love you," she said, and I repeated it to her, in the best of faith.

I had her pinned against the rug, she wasn’t attempting to escape and we talked.

"That was wonderful," I said.

"I know. You were great."

"So were you." We kissed, she didn’t seem to care that the weight of my body was pressing on her. And then, I ruined it. "You really don’t mind that I . . ."

"Oh, shut up," she cried, but with a bit of whimsey in the tone. "We’ll talk about it some other time." She pushed me off her, grabbed a blanket to cover herself, walked down the hall. I lazed for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of the afterglow. By the time I reached the bedroom my pajamas were laid out for me, Debbie was in the bathroom behind the closed door. The next time I saw her, she was in her nightdress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, I got a call from Doris. "Hi, hey listen, I got a print at Maisel Galleries. It’s lovely, Marc Allante. I think you’ll like it. Maybe you want to come over and help me hang it?" It was code we’d developed, when I dropped over for my chore I’d be rewarded with sex.

It was tempting, very tempting, but the recent revelation to Debbie had unsettled me. "I’m a little backed up this week," I lied.

"Well, okay, but listen, come over soon, will you?" Then, in almost a whisper, "I miss you."

"Me, too!" I tried to sound enthusiastic. "I’ve got to go."

Since the night Debbie had confronted me, and then had screwed my brains out, I’d been confounded. I wasn’t sure just what I was allowed, what was expected from me, I had no understanding of just where I - and my wife - was. So that night I got her a drink after dinner, since this was unusual I thought it was a good signal, and brought up my discontent. "Honey, we need to talk."

Debbie got the gist immediately. "It’s about Doris, isn’t it? Sure, if you need to talk, I’ll go along. You need to know everything’s all right, and it is. Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Well, to start with, how long have you suspected that we’ve been seeing each other?"

"A few months, I can’t pin the date exactly. A little bit after I got back from Iceland. Things changed with you, somehow. Sometimes, you were a little happier than usual, other times a little withdrawn. That bunch of roses you bought me, 'just because.' And you’ve become a much better lover. That’s really nice!"

"And you figured it was Doris?"

"If I was right - I wasn’t really sure, not till you told me - I hoped it was Doris. If it was anybody else I would have been upset."

"But you don’t mind that I’ve been seeing Doris?" This sort of blew my mind.

"Not at all," my wife confirmed.

"Why not?"

"Well, I guess I always expected it. Ever since you met her, you’ve had the hots for her. All of my boyfriends did, back when I was a teenager, she’s always been sexy. I watched your face when you met her, that first Thanksgiving, it was the same story. So I figured I’d better find out quick, that’s when I set you up with her that night. And when you came back to me the very next night, and we made love so beautifully, I knew that it was going to be okay. And even though you had her that one time . . ."

"I didn’t make love to her that night," I defended.

"Well, okay, if you say so. But really it didn’t matter to me, you came back to me. That’s all I really wanted. So I knew it would be okay."

"She stole other boyfriends of yours?"

"She never stole a boyfriend. Oh, if I wasn’t serious about them she could tell and then something might go on. But I expected to share. We shared everything when we were in school. And she was always very nice about it. She’d never use one of my sweaters, she knew she’d stretch them out of shape for me with her big breasts. But she’d borrow a blouse if I said it was okay. It was like that for everything. I love my sister, she can have anything of mine she needs. Look how she treated our children, she was a second mother to them, the fun one! So all these years, I knew you were harboring a flame for her. And she liked you a lot, too, she’s told me so a few times. So, if it’s finally happened, why should I be concerned?”

"But if it was anyone else?"

"Then, I’d be worried. A lot."

"Why?"

My wife gave her feelings away. "I couldn’t be sure, if it was your secretary or a girl at the coffee store, that you’d come back to me. You might fall in love with them, want a divorce. I couldn’t stand that, I love you too much. But Doris will never try to take you away."

In a way, it made sense. Although in another way it was completely screwed up, and I knew it. "So you're okay with what Doris and I have done?"

"Of course I am, dear." She leaned over to kiss me. "So when you’re in bed with Doris, just enjoy yourself. Don’t let it worry you, I’ll be fine."

"You mean, you expect me to continue seeing her?"

"Why not? You like it, I’ll bet she does, I don’t care! Just make sure you save enough for me," she smiled. "It should be easier on you now, you won’t have to sneak around. If you want to spend time with her, just let me know. You can even sleep at her house, if you want to. I won’t bother you unless it’s important."

"You’re sure?"

"I’m positive. I love you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, I gave Doris a call. "Hey, does that print still need hanging?"

She laughed. "No, I got it up! But I’ve got an itch that needs scratched, can you stop over tonight?"

"I’ll be there, maybe six-thirty?"

"I won’t start without you."

I was a little nervous when I texted Debbie, 'won’t be home till later tonight.' When I didn’t get her immediate reply I was concerned, but a couple of hours later I received, 'okay. have fun. love you.' and I texted back, 'luv u 2.'

As usual, Doris buzzed me in the building, as usual her apartment door was slightly ajar, when I entered the living room she was nowhere to be seen but I heard a raucous buzzing coming from the bedroom. I entered, Doris was on the bed, completely unclothed, her tapered breasts pointing to the ceiling, a flesh colored vibrator probing a similar toned labia. "I started without you," she quipped.

"So I see. Can I help?"

"I guess so. Take your clothes off before you get here, though."

I slowly disrobed, carefully arranging my suitcoat, trousers and shirt on a straight chair, my shoes and socks were carefully arranged, my briefs folded on the seat. And while I took my time undressing, I watched Doris masturbate. Her eyes stayed closed, her mouth pursed in a loop, her hand guided the plastic between the top of her pussy and the depths of the burrow. Looking at her, you wouldn’t know she was even aware of my presence, but as I approached the bed she moved a foot to make room for me. Then she opened her eyelids, handed the dildo to me. "Your turn, my hand’s tired."

For the next twenty minutes I manipulated the tool, and also used hands and mouth to stimulate her. I watched her body carefully, noticed something. When she was in that tense/relaxed state, she was hardly breathing, and the lips of her vagina turned a fairly dark rose. Certainly in those moments she was orgasming! A moment later the folds of skin would lighten, I knew she was down. I played a game, trying to bring the blush back between her thighs, was successful a number of times.

Eventually she tired of this pastime, I rolled up on her, inserted myself inside that beautiful, slick passageway, but remained on my knees. I could control myself this way, my thrusts could be timed, the depth could be limited, I could bend over to kiss or suckle, and when I raised I could tickle the clit with either finger or toy.

This period of sport was wonderful. I enjoyed my lover’s body as she gave it willingly to me, I had not a care in the world. At times it was curious to consider that my wife knew about my mistress, that she endorsed my licentious behavior, but strangely I didn’t compare the two women, I was simply happy to be with the one.

I lasted for an extremely prolonged time that night, Doris had to reach into a bedside drawer for lubricant, she coated my tool moistly two or three times, and when I finally deigned to release it was with a roar, I pounded her slit with great vigor.

Ten minutes later all was calm in my ladylove’s chamber, we held each other, when I attempted to place a hand at her opening she pushed it away with a joyful complaint, "You’ve worn me out . . . Can you stay for a little while," she implored, "or do you have to get back home?"

"There’s been a development," I revealed.

"Did Debbie find out about us?" Doris winced. "Is she pissed?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." I explained to her the two evenings of exposition, how Debbie had guessed, known about it for months, wasn’t particularly concerned, even wanted us to continue for our own happiness.

"That’s my sister," Doris observed. "Are you okay?"

"A little confused. I mean, it isn’t supposed to be this way, is it? We’re not supposed to do this."

"Yeah, I can see how you’d feel that way."

"And how do you feel about it?" I asked.

Doris took a beat, then said, "I guess I’m fine with it. With my other married men, I waited for the other shoe to drop, and it always did. I’ve never felt guilty about the wives, if they couldn’t keep their husbands that was their problem. When I’ve thought of Debbie, I was never worried about her, somehow . . . Are you hungry? Would you like an omelet?"

I decided I could use a bite, we roused ourselves from the nest, in the kitchen I asked what I could do. "Open a bottle of wine, chop the chives." We worked together, I admired her raw skin, the way her breasts swung as she moved around, when I petted her butt she quickly pressed it into my hand. Every once in awhile she’d flick my dangling penis, just to let me know she was happy with it. When the meal was ready we took it into the couch, she put some early rock on the stereo. It was a comfortable scene, almost domestic, and we talked.

"You’re very comfortable in just skin," I remarked, as we lazed, she facing me, her legs splayed, fully displayed.

"Since I realized it was an option. Sometime in college, I guess. The girls would run around the dormitory in panties and bras, then in my Junior year four of us took over a house and I hardly ever put on anything. I remember the first time a guy that was staying over with one of my roommates saw me. You know, the big leer, 'I can’t believe what I’m seeing!' For a couple of seconds I wondered if I was doing something wrong. Then my mind said 'Nah!' and I haven’t been concerned about it since. I assume Debbie’s still wearing flannel pajamas?"

"Just in the winter, she switches to cotton in the summertime. Oh, she’s not shy when we’re in the bedroom. But I’d never get her near a nudist colony or anything like that, for sure. For you, is it an exhibitionist thing?"

"No, not usually. Like right now, it’s just more comfortable not wearing clothes. And I don’t leave my drapes open or anything. Of course, there are times when I’ve enjoyed showing off . . ." She waited, not knowing if I wanted her to go further or not.

"Do tell," I encouraged.

"Well, okay. I think I’ve got a pretty good body, I’ve been told enough times." That included me, I’d often complimented her when we were in bed. "So if the situation warranted it, I’d tease guys by taking my clothes off. The first time, my boyfriend and I had two other couples over. There was pot and booze around, and somebody said let’s play strip poker. So we did, and when I had to drop my panties I showed off pretty good."

"What happened after that?"

"You want some more wine?" she responded.

"Sure."

She went to the fridge and got another bottle out, poured us both a glass, then said. "Jon, I’ve had a pretty full past, you know that. Are you sure you want to hear about it?"

"If you want to talk, I’ll listen."

"Okay, then, well when the six of us got our clothes off, we played naked spin the bottle. I won one of the other girl’s date, I took him into my room and spent an hour with him. That was the first time I ever swapped partners."

"Did you do that often in college?"

"No, that was the only time. I dated plenty, though, and if a guy wanted me in the sack and he was nice about it, well, I’d have my way with him, I didn’t care that other girls called me a slut. I met my first husband, and we were good together in bed, but it wasn’t working out well the other places, so after two years we called it quits." I knew some of this history, of course, she’d come to our house to cry on Debbie’s shoulder and I’d been on the sidelines watching. "Between my marriages, I went back to sleeping around, Then I met Nat. He loved everything I did, you remember, and in the bedroom he was quite the swordsman. So we got married. Less than a year afterwards, we were getting bored with each other. It was only to be expected, rising stars burn quickly. We both knew that if we didn’t do something, each of us would wind up having affairs. We actually talked about it, and rather than do that, Nat brought a guy over. It wound up that I let the guy have me while Nat watched. It turned him on to see me getting screwed. So that went on for awhile, different guys, normally Nat would pick them out, sometimes I’d just pick up a guy and bring him home."

"And Nat would just watch."

"At the start, that’s all he did. But then he started joining in, we’d have a threesome." She saw the curiosity in my face. "There were times when I’d screw the other guy first, then Nat would fuck me. Then, we kept trying to get higher, Nat would screw me along with the other guy, sometimes in my butt. Then, one night, the three of us were rolling along, and the other guy went down on Nat. That was sort of a shock, I hadn’t known Nat was bi, maybe he didn’t either, but for awhile that became a thing."

"You didn’t mind?"

"No, it didn’t bother me. Sex is sex, if Nat got off on sucking on a guy, what did I care! Then Nat found us a party to go to. He told me what to expect, I agreed. There were four girls and maybe eleven guys in two adjoining hotel rooms. Nat was with me when the first guy had me, and the second, then I saw him on the couch with a guy. I kept going, I was having a pretty good time, I don’t know how many of the guys there did me, I didn’t keep count. When I got up to pee, Nat was screwing one of the other girls. I didn’t mind.

"We did that a few more times, in fact there was very little we wouldn’t do. But then, it turned out that Nat didn’t want to screw me anymore. He had a hard time getting it up unless there was another guy in the room. Another thing was that I loved showing off, don’t get me wrong, but I had a hard time coming if I was being watched, my brain just wouldn’t let me relax. So if I got a chance, I’d get a guy into a room, just the two of us, and then I had a few times behind Nat’s back. I don’t think he minded, I’m pretty sure he had a boyfriend, so. It was weird, though. Other things weren’t going well, Nat got laid off and didn’t want me to be the breadwinner, he didn’t like it when I had to go out of town to consult, it just started turning into a mess, that’s when I split."

"After you got divorced?"

"I pretty much went back to just being with one guy at a time, almost serial monogamy, if it wasn’t just a one-night stand. Oh, there was the occasional threesome, and if another couple wanted to swap I didn’t mind. But I pretty much backed out of the orgies. So that’s my story, how do you feel about it?"

I showed her, bringing her over to my side of the couch and we started making love again. I’d noticed that as she was in her narration her nipples crinkled, when I touched her I found she was quite moist, as I ate her she had more tense/quiet times than normal, even for her. And as we went into coitus, I even heard her yelp a couple of times, the first I’d ever heard from her.

It was well after ten by the time we were done, I cleaned up and took my leave. As I walked to my car, I gazed at her window, I saw her silhouette against the candlelight.

When I got home Debbie was waiting for me, she heard me bump into a table on my way to the bedroom. "Are you drunk?" she asked.

"I had a few," I confessed.

"You were at Doris’s, weren’t you? You should have stayed. You know how I feel about you driving after you’ve had too much!"

I kissed her. "You really wouldn’t have minded?"

"I’ve told you enough. Now come to bed." And we slept, just slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next Wednesday, Debbie called me when I was at work and told me she was meeting Doris for dinner, there was lasagna in the refrigerator, I was to reheat it at 350 degrees for twenty-five minutes. When she got home, just after nine, she went into the bedroom and came out wearing a sheer negligee I’d never seen before. It turned me on, I followed her back to the bed, she was eager for me. We rolled around for over half an hour, much longer than our usual, until she let me put it in her, and she was ready, coming four or five times before I spent. And that night, very surprisingly, we fell asleep in each other’s arms, quite naked!

I started going over to Doris’s apartment between five and eight times a month. Sometimes it would just be on a whim and we’d spend an hour or more together. Once in awhile, I’d clear it with Debbie, I’d take Doris to dinner and go back to her place. And, perhaps once or twice a month, Debbie would encourage me to spend the night there.

One night, Doris and I were making out, and I asked her if she’d ever had a black guy. She spent perhaps fifteen minutes telling me of over-sized dicks and how African-Americans had a propensity for doggy-style, at least to start; her conjecture was that they liked to see their darkness sliding in and out of the whiteness. As she talked - we kept playing - I noticed once again her indiscretion seemed to stimulate her. Later, as I was well into her, I experienced that yelp again. Although I didn’t use the technique of getting her to verbalize her fantasies every time we made love, I utilized the caper occasionally, it rarely failed to excite her.

Another time, we were again mentally exploring the pleasures of an MFM threesome, it had the welcome reaction, we both had great orgasms. After, she asked, “Jon, would you like to be with me in a threesome?”

“You mean you, me and another guy?”

“Exactly. Just once, to see if you’d like it.”

I considered it, she didn’t push. There certainly was an interest on my part. I knew she saw other men when I wasn’t around. The first time I found a man’s sock under the bedframe I was a bit aghast, but I didn’t say anything. That was wise, I think. Eventually - it took me a week or two to figure it out - I realized that anything Doris chose to gift me with was hers to giveaway, and that since I wasn’t with her every night, and was particularly absent on weekends, she had to fulfill her needs, her appetites with others. I made a decision not to be jealous. And since I knew she had those other lovers, her overture for a threesome didn’t disgust me.

Yes, there was an interest on my part. Why not? It would be an adventure, something I’d never experienced, and I think I envisioned it almost as I’d approach a porn movie or a strip club, something interesting, exciting. I was tempted to take her up on the offer, only one thing restrained me. Debbie didn’t object to my extramarital activities with Doris, but she remained adamant that Doris would be my only lover. Now, did that principle extend to include another man? I didn’t have any intention of doing anything with him other than watching, but still . . . Not being sure, not willing to ask Debbie for clarification, I simply let the topic drop out of sight, after a couple of offers Doris never pressed.

Debbie and I didn’t often talk of the state of affairs, there was an unstated accord that what was happening simply didn’t have to be discussed. But I wondered what - or if - she wanted out of it. There were benefits for her, of course. The sex between my wife and I remained more frequent, better. I think I appreciated her a little more, brought flowers more often, enjoyed her company at dinner more than I had before.

But, would she enjoy having her own secret lover? I honestly didn’t know how I would take it if she did, but in fairness I felt I had to at least explore the option. I tried to bring it up obliquely, she caught my hint before too long and answered. “No, dear, I don’t want another man. You’ve always been much more interested in sex than I am.”

“You’re a wonderful lover. We’ve never had a problem there, I think you’re great in bed!”

“That’s nice of you to say so, and I appreciate that until this started with Doris you never did anything. But I just always thought you would have liked another outlet. Now, you’ve got it, and I don’t mind at all. But I don’t need, don’t want, anyone but you. Okay?” Of course it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve been seeing Doris now for over four years, Debbie still tolerates the situation. My lover and I seem to go in spurts, for a month or three we can’t wait to tear each other’s clothes off, then it tapers off to once a week or so. Doris has never allowed a particular ‘date night,’ such as Thursdays is I’ll-be-over-at-your-place-at-six-thirty evening. She works hard to make it a little extemporaneous.

One time, a warm early November evening, I was scheduled to be with Doris, I got a text, ‘meet me at Robinson park.’ It was well after dark by the time I made it, I found Doris’s car parked near a picnic pavilion, my headlights illuminated her near a playground. “Turn the headlights off,” she demanded, “and join me.” On a picnic bench we sat, started kissing. I found she wasn’t wearing a bra, I unbuttoned her blouse, sucked just the way she’d taught me she liked. Eventually, we made our way to a swing set, she unzipped my fly, pulled out my penis, sat on me. I found out she wasn’t wearing panties, we made love awkwardly, yet flamboyantly. Not surprisingly, I wasn’t able to come, although I think she did. We moved over back to the bench, she laid on top, I lanced her, that was better, I was able to come pretty quickly that way, she laughed loudly as I grunted my spark into her.

Later, at a nearby pub, I asked, “What if somebody had come and seen us?”

“If it was somebody trying to do the same thing we did, would you have minded? I didn’t think parents were going to be bringing their children to play there, not at that time!”

“Okay, but what about the park police?”

A giggle escaped. “Well, I’m friends with the guy who’s on duty. He knew what I’d planned, told me he wouldn’t swing by there for an hour.” I laughed with her.

Debbie has allowed me to accompany Doris when she’s headed out of town for a conference or something, I’ve stayed in her hotel room, at parties Doris introduced me, it was clear I was her lover.

A couple years back, Doris met a man. She let me know she wanted to find out if it could get serious, I backed off, we even met them at restaurants and invited them over for dinner. Fourteen weeks later, Debbie told me, “Alex broke it off with Doris. I think she’d like a phone call from you, if you need to go over there it’s fine with me.” I spent that night, and the next five, at Doris’s apartment, for the next month I spent more nights with her than with Debbie, eventually Doris got over it, she thanked me for my concern and help.

There’s been some talk of the three of us traveling, perhaps to Europe. I don’t know how that would work, perhaps the two of them would get together and decide who’s room I was sleeping in that night. I’d be fine with it, as long as I didn’t have to make the decision, I’d never want to take the chance of hurting either of them.

Yes, of course I’ve considered the legality, the morality of what I’m doing. The only things I think I could be accused of in court is bigamy and incest. Since I’ve never married Doris or said any vows, I’m cleared on that. And, as I read the statute, screwing around with in-laws is perfectly legal in my state. Is what I’m doing immoral? I don’t think so, my wife and lover agree. So, if you think what I’m doing is depraved, well, that’s on you, I couldn’t care less.

There are times when I sort of feel like a teddy bear, community property shared by the two sisters. Often, I never know which one is going to pick me up and play with me next.

I’m not complaining, it’s a hell of a life.