23 Mayıs 2022

I Just Don’t Know . . . Ch. 06

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Once again, you’d be well advised to read the earlier parts of this story, particularly Chapter 5 which is referred to below.

It’s been several months since I wrote here but I thought you might like to know what happened after that crazy night when three couples went totally around the bend and experienced that which would have been previously unimaginable.

The Monday after ‘The Event’, I invited Charlotte and Caroline over for coffee. Our husbands were back at work and we were free to discuss the aftermaths. Once we were all seated around my kitchen table, I got the ball rolling. “So. How’s everything on the home front? Any divorce papers being filed as we speak?”

Charlotte and Caroline both giggled. “Hardly,” said Charlotte. “David woke up yesterday morning, shook his head, laughed, and climbed all over me. I don’t think I’ve seen him so fired up since our honeymoon.”

“Will wanted to talk first,” stated Caroline. “He was curious about how we made the decision to broach the topic and then he wanted more details about how you and I had become . . . entangled, Emily. So, I told the story slowly, with details, and let’s just say, it had quite the effect on him.” She smiled and pretended to fan herself as if overcome with the vapors.

I was happy for my two friends because I really had been worried. When Richard woke up on Sunday morning, I had already been lying there with worrisome thoughts coursing through my brain. Richard was fun-loving and adventurous but I couldn’t help thinking that he might reconsider his willingness to engage in open, sexual activities with friends – female and male – two of whom he really didn’t know at all well. Plus, now that we were alone, would he admit to me that the thought of his wife making love to another woman (make that two other women) was more than he could bear? I was basically freaking out, much as I had been in that New York hotel room when Caroline and I were just embarking on our adventure.

I watched Richard stir and as his eyes opened, I looked for signs of how he was feeling. Through hooded eyes, he turned toward me and whispered, “Morning, Baby.”

I leaned across to his pillow and kissed him as I whispered back, “I love you.” Richard slowly began to wake up and I waited for some sort of sign that he even remembered what had occurred a mere eight hours earlier. It took a moment but finally, he pursed his lips, shook his head a bit, and softly exhaled a barely audible whistle. “Jesus. What a night.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I think so.” I let him take his time and eventually he continued, “Never in a million years.” Another pause and a head shake. “I woke up a few hours ago and laid here thinking about it. I . . . I don’t know.” He had been avoided eye contact as he spoke, but now he turned and looked me in the eye. “Em. We’re not in trouble here, are we?”

My heart truly skipped a beat as I focused on the fact that I might have brought pain to this man, the love of my life. “Oh, God, no, Richard. No, no, no . . . I love you more than ever. Please don’t be angry at me. This whole thing . . . it just happened and I’ll stop, I swear, I’ll stop right now.” My voice was a bit frantic, I could detect that, but I rambled on, pretty much begging him to forgive me.

“Calm down, Love. Really. I’m okay. Actually, I’m a lot better than I expected to be considering . . . everything. Last night, hell, that was just drunken craziness and I can live with it.” He smiled. “I don’t see myself becoming a danger in the locker room at the golf club, hunting down unsuspecting male prey, but really, that’s all over. The more important thing is you and Caroline. And you and Charlotte. I need to come to grips with that.”

All I could do was stare at him. I’d never in my life felt so guilty to have caused this darling man discomfort. My eyes welled up and I began to blubber my promises that I would never again . . .

But he interrupted me. “Emily. No, no really. I’ve thought about it and I’m okay with it, really. It’s weird, but I’m not nearly as bothered by it as I thought I’d be, or maybe as I should be. Trust me, if it was another guy, I’d feel totally different, but, for some reason, this just seems to me to be the absolute definition of pure fun . . . recreational sex. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I care to hear about it, but I’m glad you decided to tell us and . . . if you want to continue, if it really brings you pleasure, just . . . be discreet and make sure nobody finds out about it who shouldn’t. Okay?”

What a man I married.

I continued to tell him I wouldn’t and I believed it when I said it but within minutes, I knew that I might not have the strength to deal with this new found addiction. The good news was that Richard had dealt with it and had let me know he still loved me and trusted me to behave.

And that, dear readers, is pretty much exactly as I related it to Charlotte and Caroline at my kitchen table. Their reactions matched illegal bahis mine.

“Well, that’s that, then,” stated Caroline. “Fun is one thing, but your marriage takes precedent. There will be no more.” Her expression betrayed the sadness she felt.

“Yes, of course,” responded Charlotte. “There’s nothing else to do.” Then, after a pause, she continued, “Damn. One lousy time. I mean . . . one spectacular time, for me. Oh, you know what I mean – I feel cheated!” We all laughed and raised our mugs in a toast to a period of our lives that we’d never forget.

End of story.

Um, no. Not quite.

Several months went by and we were good little girls. We continued to socialize, now a threesome – shopping, visiting museums, eating out. But all our behavior was above board, even when temptation thrust itself into our paths. Once, while clothes shopping, we ended up in a large dressing room trying on various items that required stripping to our barest skivvies. The moment came when we all happened to look up at once just in time to see: Charlotte holding a sundress in front of her, perky little breasts exposed and boy-cut panties of a highly diaphanous fabric providing a tempting, teasing view of her pubes; Caroline reaching for a dress on a hook while sporting the most gorgeous bra (her gloriously round breasts shown in splendid profile) and panties combo of smoky gray; and me, 100% buck-naked about to step into a shear ice-blue nightgown. A freeze frame moment that stretched on for perhaps three seconds but felt like an eternity.

Caroline sighed and broke the silence with, “We look so pretty.”

“Touchable, even,” was Charlotte’s contribution.

I just shook my head. Such a waste, I thought. Such beautiful, touchable, kissable flesh.

But behave we did and even resumed three-couple socializing. Everything was fun and comfy, with no mention of ‘That Night’. It was an unspoken, agreed upon taboo. It turns out, though, that planning was taking place, behind the scenes, unknown to your narrator.

* * *

I celebrate my birthday each year in mid-March. Because it generally falls in the middle of my daughter’s school year, we don’t make a big deal of it – no exotic vacation trips or anything – just a quiet celebration of an event that, quite honestly, no longer thrills me as it once did. I mean, really. How many women do you know who revel in the passage of time and the accompanying gravitational pulls? So, a gift or three, a cake with candles, and let’s move on. That’s what I was thinking. Charlotte had called a few nights earlier and had asked if she could drop over mid-morning and take me someplace special for lunch. I, of course, agreed and looked forward to a nice lunch out, destination unspecified.

She rolled up around 10:30 which had me wondering just how far we’d be going for lunch. Our children would be home from school by 3:15, I reminded her, but she insisted that I wasn’t to worry. “Just relax, listen to the pretty music, close your eyes if you’d like, and leave the driving to me.” Okay, I thought, can do.

After about a half hour of driving, I had a pretty good idea of where we were heading. Sure enough, we pulled off a lovely fir tree-lined road and headed up a long driveway that led to a country inn of considerable renown in our area. It consisted of several natural stone buildings that included the inn itself, a restaurant, smaller guesthouses, a spa, and an indoor swimming pool. Although it looked like it had been part of the countryside for centuries, in fact it was fairly new and had built a reputation for excellence throughout our part of the country and beyond.

“A bit early for lunch, no?” I asked.

“Uh huh,” Charlotte replied. This response coincided with her driving right past the restaurant. She parked in a space beside the spa, a lot entirely devoid of other cars. “Too early for lunch.” Charlotte jumped out of the car and I followed.

We walked up to the impressive front door and entered an absolutely deserted lobby. There was no sign of life anywhere to be seen. My quizzical expression led Charlotte to smile and state, “Closed on Mondays.”

“Um . . . Charlotte, it’s Monday.”

“I know. But it’s open for us.”


“Well, it helps when your husband runs a bank and handles most of the financing for a project like this,” she explained. “Provides one with certain perks, when one requests them.” We were walking down a hall that was barely lit and reached a door that Charlotte pushed open.

It was a gloriously tasteful room, done in soft, soothing colors (mauves, and taupes, and buffs, oh my!). Large free-flowing abstract paintings covered three of the walls while the fourth was dominated by a modern gas fire pit that was aglow on this chilly late winter’s day (Hmm, I thought, someone had readied this room.). Barely audible music was being piped in and, no surprise, it was ethereal in nature. This was a haven – a place to chill and, pretty illegal bahis siteleri obviously, a place to be massaged. The long, tan-leather covered table that stood squarely in the room’s center kind of gave that away.

“Happy birthday to me?” I asked.

“That’s right, sweetie,” answered a smiling Charlotte. “Today is all about you. Now, go right through that door and you will find the most wonderful of showers. Enjoy it . . . fully. Towels and a plush robe await. In fifteen minutes time, your masseuse will be here, ready to take you to relaxation-ville.”

“Someone you know?” I inquired. “Someone who’s kneaded you personally?”

“Trust me, you will not be disappointed.” With that, Charlotte went to the door and vanished.

I actually liked the sound of it. And I trusted Charlotte completely. Certainly, she wouldn’t put me in an uncomfortable situation. So, I headed to the shower and loved what I found. It was huge with jet sprays in abundance from all levels of the sides and the top. Utterly elegant and welcoming in a glorious tufa-like stone. I removed my winter coat and rapidly stripped off my dress and underwear.

Once I got the shower fired up and operative, I honestly thought it would require a team of Marines to drag me out kicking and screaming. It was that good. I was assaulted with jets of water that I was able to vary in intensity and it was all I could do to keep from moaning my pleasure. Trusting that I was indeed alone, I took special interest in the cleanliness of my breasts and that soft, slippery area where my legs met. Recalling Charlotte’s fifteen minute comment led me finally, reluctantly, to turn off the shower and dry myself with a big, ultra-fluffy towel. Donning the soft, pure white robe and stepping into matching slippers, I took a deep breath and returned to the massage room, taking a seat in a gorgeous cushioned chair beside the fire pit. Bring it on, I thought.

I sat for all of two minutes before I heard a faint knock on the door. Entering was not one masseuse, but two, clad in matching tight gray uniforms. And rather than strangers, I was looking at dear Charlotte and equally dear Caroline, apparently masseuses-for-a-day.

“Hello, Madame,” intoned Caroline. “It is our pleasure to serve you on your special day.” She looked like everyman’s ideal of the perfect French maid: tall, statuesque – the zipper down the front of her uniform straining to contain that which lay behind it – and made up with just enough cosmetics to look the slightest bit tartish.

Beside her, little Charlotte rather looked like her apprentice or intern, so much smaller was she. But not at all unappealing. Charlotte could’ve been mistaken for a high school cheerleader and likely would continue to be into her 50’s. The fact that her uniform barely reached her knees, showing off her perfect legs (that I had envied since our college years), made the package utterly adorable.

So here they stood in front of me, apparently ready to treat me to a special birthday rubdown. My ear to ear smile let them know how happy I was with the idea. “Well, look at you two. And here I was hoping for a Greek God in a Speedo. Silly me.”

“Dear girl,” said Caroline, “Spiros Rubalopolous has nothing on us. Now, get your ass up on that bench. I’m raring to go.”

I stood and grabbed the lapels of the robe. “What should I do with this?” I asked coyly.

Charlotte approached me and began to untie the belt. “Allow me,” she said in what was barely a whisper and, I had to admit, sounded extremely erotic. She came around behind me and slowly lowered the robe from my shoulders. I was quite naked but the room was comfortably warm. Caroline stood in front of me and took time to check me out from head to toe, as if she hadn’t seen my body before. Her joking manner of a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by a buzz of lustful electricity. She extended her hand, which I took, and she led me to the platform. I lay down on my stomach with my head resting comfortably in a donut-like opening at the head of it. Neither of my friends bothered to cover my bottom with the traditional towel. I felt exposed and very sexy.

Both Charlotte and Caroline hunched down on either sides of my head. Caroline whispered, “Happy birthday, Emily. Just relax and enjoy it.” Charlotte actually kissed me lightly on my ear and added, “There’s nobody here but us, Em. We’re going to do our best for you.”

The room got darker as one of them rotated a dimmer switch. I detected a smell of incense as well and the music, eastern in nature, fit perfectly.

Without warning, a trickle of warm liquid softly struck my spine, starting at the top and going lower, all the way to the top of my ass cheeks. And then it began. Four hands slowly rubbing said liquid into my skin. Two hands on my shoulders and pushing downwards, two hands cupping my bottom and rotating into it. I couldn’t see who was who but it was discernable that the two women were mimicking each other’s movements canlı bahis siteleri and acting in tandem on the upper and lower segments of my back. I could also tell that it felt damn good. Warm and smooth and heavenly. The sounds coming from my mouth, quite involuntarily, gave away my deep pleasure. Was that me or a mewing kitten, I wondered?

They took their time and eventually got all the way down to my toes, after paying particular attention to my calves. I was an oily, slippery mess and was glad to have them on both sides of the table figuring they would likely be able to keep me from sliding onto the floor.

Now they went their separate ways and I could see Charlotte in front of me as she kneaded my shoulders, digging in with enough force to bring on what I would describe as delightful agony. From below, Caroline stayed busy. She was working her way northward from my ankles and as she reached my mid-thighs, her hands applied barely enough pressure to move my legs apart just a tiny bit. I heard my heartbeat for the first time and that beat intensified as she rubbed higher and higher, all the while separating. I heard her as she climbed onto the table between my open appendages and when her hands arrived at the very top of my legs, I squealed a bit. That didn’t stop her. Her fingertips were now invading me, working into my highly lubricated center, all the while spreading, kneading, thrilling. As if it had been planned, the music’s rhythm built and Caroline went with it.

Charlotte wasn’t an observer. She had worked her way down my arms and was now kissing my right wrist, moaning as she did so. Next, my fingers were in her mouth, one at a time, being sucked on, amazingly, in that same throbbing rhythm. I was a pulsating mass myself, my bottom writhing along with Caroline’s gentle but urgent entry into my flowery folds.

“Oh my goodness, this is . . . just . . . incredible. Ohhhh.” I could barely form words.

Caroline responded, “I think it’s time you turned over now, Emily.” Her voice was as smooth and syrupy as the liquid honey that coated the back of my body. She didn’t have to repeat herself. I edged over, wondering what I must look like in my semi-frenzied state. Standing over me, my two friends stopped for a moment and just smiled at the sight of me. Apparently, I looked relaxed and more than a little wanton. Charlotte leaned over and, taking my head in her hands, softly kissed me. And then again, using her tongue in widening circles in my mouth as Caroline began her work with that warm, smooth oil. The kisses went on as hands massaged my stomach and the undersides of my breasts. I wondered if they had rehearsed or discussed this because the coordination of their movements was so sublime it seemed that they must have given it some prior thought. And on it went.

Charlotte left my mouth and kissed her way down my neck before adding her hands to the action. She cupped one breast and started making soft circular rotations of the nipple which had long ago come to full attention. Suddenly, Caroline was across from her doing the same thing to my other breast and together they lowered their heads and began sucking, pulling on my nipples. My legs were beginning to move, rhythmically luxuriating in this glorious assault.

And down. Down they moved. I watched as their heads reached my hipbones, hands leading the way, rubbing my thighs ahead of them. Two hands on my inner thighs, opening me. Two hands searching for, and finding, my core, fingertips meeting within my welcoming pussy lips. My knees rose and my toes dug into the matted surface, my body begging this to go on and on.

It got better. I looked down at the sexiest sight I had ever witnessed. Caroline and Charlotte, still actively using their left and right hands respectively deep in me, were now kissing, meeting over the table, lips locked, their spare hands behind each other’s head. I thought of yelling, “Hey! It’s my birthday!” But how could I complain? I mean, really! With their absurdly sexy uniforms spotted in a combination of sweat and oil, Charlotte’s hem riding way up on her upper thigh, Caroline’s nipples outlined against the blouse portion, they were a sight to behold. It really was all just too too much and my mounting excitement could resist no more. I felt the orgasm start and, perched on my elbows, drinking in the thrill of it all, I surged over the edge, a guttural moan escaping my lips.

But, there was more. Caroline moved up the table and even as I barely reached the end of my trembling, throbbing cum, her lips were on mine, kissing me deeply. She broke the kiss and, looking me in the eye, said, “Charlotte wants something. She says she’s never tasted you. It’s time, birthday girl.” Looking down the table, I saw Charlotte, up on the table, her hands on my knees, her head approaching its target. The look on her face was one of commitment and desire, no hesitation as she approached a first time experience. She kept her eyes open, and on mine, as she touched her tongue to my labial lips and in a slow sweeping movement, onto my clit. If she was new to this – and she surely was – one would never have guessed as she swirled and lapped and sucked in deeply, all the while driving me toward another dam-bursting moment.

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