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From: "First Name Last Name" <marchase@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Beamer vs SUV 2/2
Date: Sat, 23 Dec 2000 00:10:03 -0500
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My responses varied.

   "Sometime soon", if I wanted to tease him

   Or, "Are you serious about that?", to which he always said "yes"

   Or, "What's your hurry?", and he'd tell me he was getting obsessed with
the idea.

   Once, one evening when he asked me, I looked him right in the eye.  "Do
you really want someone else to have sex with me, Bill?"

   "So long as you act sexy and tell me about it, yes I do." Not only did
he say that, but he took me to bed and I let Billy the Club have his way
with me.

   Afterwards -- he didn't take long -- he told me how serious he was.

   "Look, if you do the hot wife thing I'll get you the Beamer, and wait
for next time for the SUV."

   That was a serious concession.  I spent some time thinking about all of
this, and was actually getting used to the idea of seducing, or being
seduced.  It was starting to be, for lack of a better way of saying it,
"acceptable".

   I wanted clarification about something.  "You have to know about it,
huh?"

   "I want to enjoy it too, that's all.  Otherwise, it's an affair, and
that's out of bounds."

   "You're nuts!"

   "BMW, baby, that's the prize.  That's the fee I'll pay if you do it."

   "You make it tempting - have a fling, get a car."

   "So, get tempted."

   "Maybe, if the time is right, I'll do that."

   "Soon, OK?  Do it soon."

   It's amazing how that discussion changed everything.  Every time I
looked at a man, I wondered if he was the one I'd fuck!

   It's also amazing how hard it is to step over that threshold.  I mean,
weeks went by without anything like a reasonable opportunity.

   The funny part was how disappointed Bob was.  He'd bring bagels, Bill or
I would meet him at the door, and there was no flashing or anything
anymore. We were way past that.

   One Monday Bill put pressure on me.  "We gotta trade in the old car
soon, like in the next couple of weeks, babe.  I'm looking at a lot of ads
for SUVs.  Have you been looking at Beamers?"

   I had been, in fact, and told him so.

   "Gonna do something to make me and the Club happy, or are we gonna fight
about the car?"

   "Keep it up, mister, and you're gonna get what you're asking for.  Or,
should I say I'm gonna get what you're asking for."

   "Billy the Club's always ready to substitute, you know that, but that
won't get a Beamer in the driveway!"

   I had tested Bill every way I could, and the answer kept coming back the
same.  He really wanted this to happen.  I tested myself, too, and knew
that it was all right with me.  I knew lots of women who told me about
affairs they had, and their marriages mostly are still doing OK.  I figured
that meant getting fucked didn't fuck up their heads about their husbands.
In this case, my husband wanted me to do it.  I was ready!

   Interest rates were changing, and we decided to refinance our house.  I
don't know how it works where you live, but here brokers are happy to come
to your house to make and close the deal.  GMC Financier's guy was Mark. 
He met with both of us that week, and we decided to do the deal with him.
Mark was older than we were, but looked, well, interesting.  Great
personality, too.  Anyhow, after he left Bill looked at me.  "He couldn't
take his eyes off you."

   "I noticed that, too."

   "I bet if I wasn't here, he'd make a pass at you."

   "Maybe.  I think so, too."

   "Maybe when he brings the papers back, I shouldn't be here."

   I thought about that for a minute.

   "Beamer," Bill reminded me.

   "Yeah, maybe you shouldn't be here tomorrow."

   "Come with me, woman!  Billy the Club wants his way with you, right
now!'

   The next morning Bill looked at me.  "Should I stay late and work on my
project tonight, Babe?"

   "Help me strip the bed, Bill, and change the bedding.  And yes, stay at
work.  I'll call you when you can come home."

   Well, we used the bedding one more time before we changed it.

   That day every hour seemed to have 200 minutes.  Bill called me at work
at least 4 times, and there was lots of heavy breathing.

   Finally evening came.

   Bill called.  "I'm so horny I can't sit still.  Are you OK?"

   "If you are."

   "Oh, I am, I am.  How are you going to do it?"

   "If I do it, you mean.  Maybe I'll just be available, and see what he
does."

   "Wear that dress!"

   "No, that's too obvious."

   "Wear that blouse with a scoop neck, so you can flash him."

   "That's an idea.  How's Bill the Club?"

   "You know how he is."

   "I sure do.  'Bye."

   Bill had a good idea.  I got into my Gypsy dress -- scoop neckline,
skirt below the knees, designed with a slit that got to mid thigh.  It was
sort of provocative without shouting "slut.' I guess it whispered
"potential slut."

   The clock ground its way 6:30, the time Mark said the papers would be
here, and within a minute of that time the door bell chimed.

   "Hi, Mark."

   "Hi -- I have the papers here, I'll explain them to you and Bill, and
when your lawyer looks them over you can sign them and we'll be done."

   "Bill won't be home until after 9.  Come in, explain them to me."

   We sat opposite each other at the dining room table, and he showed me
the important parts of the documents.  This wasn't going the way I hoped.
He was being totally professional.

   Well, I'd have to try something.

   "I don't understand this line."

   He couldn't quite see what I was looking at, so he came over and stood
behind me.

   I pointed, and I knew as I leaned foreword he could see at least the top
of my breasts as the scoop neckline sagged a little.

   He leaned over my shoulder, pretending to look at the document, and
finally cleared his throat, and explained the clause I pointed to.  I know
he was getting an eyeful.

   I took a breath, a deep breath -- not to expose myself better, but to
gain courage.  I think it had both effects because Mark gasped a little,
too.

   Without looking up, I said "Like I told you, Bill won't be home until
after 9, Mark."

   "Not until 9?" he asked, and I felt his hands on my shoulders.

   "That's right."

   The hands moved, caressing my shoulders.

   "That's nice, Mark."

   And that was all of the encouragement he needed.

   He slid his hands down, I could feel them, and looking down I could see
them move under my neckline, out over my breasts, until hands and breasts
were coupled, moving together.  I leaned back, making it easier, and my
head was resting against Mark's chest while he played with me, fondled me.

   "Are you man enough to finish what you've started?"

   "I'm not sure who started this, but you bet I'm man enough."

   I took his wrists and pulled his hands away.

   And took another deep breath.

   "The bed room is this way."

   I lead, he followed, to the bedroom, to the bed, freshly turned down,
the sheet and pillow inviting -- something.

   "Sit there."

   He did.

   "Wait there."

   "OK."

   "I'm going to do something I always wanted to do," I told him, and left
him for the bathroom.

   The little teddy and bikini bottom were just where I put them.

   I put them on - they didn't hide much, but it hardly mattered, did it?

   "Wow."

   I stood before him.  "You're overdressed, Mark."

   He stood, shed coat, pulled at tie, shirt, got them off, kicked at
shoes, pulled at socks, and stood there, wearing only suit pants.

   "Those too, Mark."

   He fumbled at his belt, slacks clasp, zipper, and pushed them down, and
stepped out of them, now nude, and very erect.

   I took his hand and pulled him onto the bed, his cock almost dead center
on the bed, pointing up.  Way up.

   I felt nervous, tight, dry.  "I have some KY in the drawer, let me get
that."

   "No, don't.  You won't need it, we'll go slow."

   He sat up, and pulled at the teddy, pulling it over my head.  The
breasts he had glimpsed, and fondled, were now right in front of him.

   He pushed me down, so I was laying on my back.

   He leaned over me, his mouth at my neck.

   That was thrilling, I could feel myself starting to respond.

   That mouth moved to my ear, then my throat.

   "Beamer," I thought.  "If I do this, if I let myself go, I get a
Beamer."

   I pushed at his head, until his tongue was circling my nipple.  Not
touching it just circling it - I could feel it tighten, feel it go erect.,
and finally, not wanting to wait any longer, I put one hand under my
breast, and lifted it, and the other on the back of his head, driving his
mouth onto my nipple!

   "Do that!" He did, teasing, sucking, biting.  I was feeling myself
moisten now, getting ready.

   He pulled out from under my hand, and was kissing at my belly, then
lower, and out along the front of my thigh.

   It was more than working, I knew I was dilating now.

   There was a small pressure, a push at my thigh, and my legs opened for
his mouth, as it moved higher, reaching my panties.

   I could feel the heat of his breath on my pelvis through my panties now,
and the pressure of his mouth, his tongue, still teasing.

   "Like that?" he asked.

   "You know it."

   "I think you might like it better if you took those damned panties off."

   I didn't answer in words.  Instead, I lifted my hips, he moved to the
side, .and I got my hands on the panty waist band.  I thought he was going
to do this, but he wanted me to.  I pushed down, then let my hips settle
onto the bed, and kicked the panties free of my feet.

   And I lay down again, as nude as he was, legs together, almost
frightened.

   "You almost have it right," he told me, kneeling beside me, at about my
hips.  "Almost, but not quite."

   He put a hand on my knee, and pulled, so my legs parted a little.  He
pushed at the other knee, and I was really spread out.

   I felt like a tramp -- a horny tramp.

   He wasn't done making me feel that way.

   He took my hands -- I had them at my side -- and drew them to my crotch.
He carefully placed my fingers on either side of my vulva.

   "Like that, for now," he said, and leaned down, and his mouth was on my
fingers, his tongue probing between them, touching me there.

   He moved some more, so his torso was beside me, his head over my groin
almost a 69 position, but not quite.

   "Spread yourself for me."

   I closed my eyes, and did, and could feel myself open, feel the coolness
on my clit, and knew I was as trampy as I ever was, and loving it.

   His tongue was still working at my lips, on my fingers, driving me
crazy.

   Then he moved again, and I couldn't feel him at all there.  He was
close, but not touching. . .

   Wind -- he was blowing at me, as a child might, to cool soup.  It wasn't
cooling me, though!

   He moved again -- my senses were on edge, waiting, expecting. . .  was
that a touch on my clit?  Was that another?  Could his touch possibly be
that soft?

   Yes!  The pressure increased, his tongue was probing now where only
Bill's, and his cock, had been for so many years.  There was the moisture
of his saliva, and lots of my own, now -- I was no longer dry, no longer
tight.  I turned my head towards his cock, a few inches away.

   His foreskin was pulled back, its head was pulsing in time with his
heart.

   I pulled my hands away, and felt him move again, wrapping his arms
around my legs, his hands meeting between them, and I felt his fingers
spreading me, wider than I did for myself, and felt his tongue, a small
penis, fucking me.

   I twisted to the side a little more, one hand now on his shaft, the
other on his scrotum, and pulled at him.  He knew what I wanted, and soon
he had a leg on either side of my head, suspending that penis above me.

   So I pulled him closer, and in time with what he was doing to me, took
him into my mouth.

   I had gone from dry and tight to wet and dilated in minutes, and the
excitement and reticence of it all pushed me even more.  A spasm - an
unexpected orgasm.  A good one, too.

   "More like this?"

   "Whatever you want, Mark.  Anything!" I thought he'd want me to suck him
off until he came, and I was willing to do that.  Or anything else.

   He untangled himself, turned, and in a moment was in the classic male
superior position, over me.

   I took his shaft, brought it to me, and lifted my hips, feeling it
pressing, then feeling a sensation of spreading, as he pushed, too, into
me, all the way in.

   He had been gentle in foreplay, but not now.  He pushed hard, he pushed
fast, pumping, exciting me, and himself.

   He stroked long and hard, and was building quickly to his own orgasm.

   "In you?  Is it OK to come in you?"

   Permission?  He wanted permission?  "Let it go in me, give me all you
have!"

   If every woman doesn't know the feeling of a man getting bigger, hotter,
just before he ejaculates, she's missing one of the most exciting things
about being a woman.  I felt push in deeply, his hips jerking.  I had my
thumb and finger around his shaft, masturbating him, and I felt a throb in
that deep vein with my fingers, and I could feel it in my vagina, too.  His
small pushes, and that throbbing, meant he was emptying himself, deep in
me.

   And I felt it with a different man than my husband for the first time in
many years.

   Odd: just after the peak of my own orgasm I found myself saying "Red.  I
want the BMW to be red."

   Mark, finished, perhaps embarrassed, didn't want to wait very long.  He
was dressed and on his way out in minutes.  "I'm sorry, Roberta, that was
unprofessional of me.  Just mail the forms, OK?."

   I took a couple of minutes to recover, to think about what I had done,
what I had become.  Oh well, it was done.

   It was odd, being in bed, being freshly fucked, still wet, still a
little horny, without having Bill next to me.  I wanted company, right now.

   I reached for the bedside phone, still wet with another man's juices,
and dialed Bill's direct line.

   "Bill Smith," his business voice said.

   "Red," I said, without any preamble.  "I want a red Beamer."

   Then I hung up.





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