mf, mild bond, fdom, heavy mdom, oral, series


Things have gotten a little out of hand. I suppose my mistake was agreeing
to the wager in the first place. On the other hand, if I had won.... Oh,
well, my turn will come.

It all started with a playful game of scrabble. My wife Linda and I (my
name's Peter) have been happily married for 8 years, and are in our mid
30's. We live what most would call a middle class life (I hate the word
yuppie; sounds too much like guppy), although both of us went through a wild
time during the 70's.

Linda is a fine looking brunette, 5'3", with a slim build and pert, conical
breasts. She has that innocent, child-like face that turns men on like
crazy. Although she's not prudish, she is demure and shy around strangers.
Our sex life has been great over the past years, and we've tried the usual
things like fucking in strange places, light b&d, renting porno videos, etc.
Lately, though, things have simmered down to a slow burn, rather than the
raging flames of newlyweds.

On the night in question, I was feeling a bit randy and, after watching Dan
Rather blather on about Haiti or some such fucking place, I suggested a game
of scrabble. As Linda returned with the game and began to arrange it on the
living room floor, I had a sudden idea.

"Let's play for stakes," I said, sitting down on the floor across from her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Let's say the winner gets to choose a fantasy and the loser has
to act it out."

Linda looked up at me slyly. "I see. And I don't suppose you've got anything
particular in mind, do you?"

"Actually, I've got quite a few ideas...," I said, looking up coyly at the
ceiling. "Remember, though, it could be anything at all, and you'd have to
go along with it. You know I love you, babe, and you'd have to trust me.
There are some REALLY outrageous stuff floating around in my perverted
brain!"

"Well, first of all, you haven't won YET, Mr. Perverted Brain. And second of
all, you're on. Just remember your words and our agreement after the game is
over. You have a very convenient memory sometimes, you know."

I grabbed us each a glass of Chardonnay, and we started the game. An hour
later, with the game up in the air, my sexy little wife slowly spelled out
the word "xiphosuran."

"Jesus Christ!" I said, scratching my head. "What the fuck is that shit?"
The best I'd done was "fruitcake."

Linda looked at me with her deep green eyes. Her tongue darted out and
slowly licked the rim of her wine glass. I'll be damned, but I couldn't read
her! If I didn't challenge it, she'd win.

"Okay, I'm getting the Webster's out on this one."

I grabbed the dictionary and flipped to the x's.

"...any of an order (Xiphosura) of arthropods comprising the king crabs and
extinct related forms..."

"You're a ringer, you know that? How in the hell....?"

Linda crawled behind me and wrapped her legs around my waist. Her cool hands
went around me under my sweatshirt and gently tweaked my nipples. Her breath
was warm as she whispered in my ear.

"I memorized about 50 of them since the last time we played and you won."

"Not only beautiful, smart and sexy, but competitive as hell!" I said.
"Okay, you won. So what does this mean in practical terms? What's it going
to be?"

I could feel her shrugging behind me, her nipples gently brushing my back. I
was getting an anticipatory hard-on even as I felt a brief twinge of
apprehension. (Quite prescient, as it turns out)

Linda stood up and removed my t-shirt she uses as a nightie. Wearing only
her skimpy white cotton panties, she pushed the game away and knelt down in
front of me. Taking my hands, she gently placed them on her soft breasts.
The cool air had already made her nipples erect and they pressed into the
center of my palms. She cupped both her hands around my face and looked me
in the eyes.

"I know exactly what I want. But I want to make very sure we are absolutely
clear about things. First, YOU are going to have to trust ME, and know that
I love you very much and will always love you and be your wife. This is
going to be an enactment of a fantasy, nothing more. Without that foundation
of trust and love, I would not attempt anything remotely resembling what I
have in mind. Do you understand this?"

I swallowed slowly and nodded. My erection was gone. There was a buzzing in
my ears and my heart raced.

"Second, there will be no going back once it begins. When it is finished,
you may have a turn, and I fully intend to do ANYTHING you want. I expect
and believe that I will have the same commitment from you for my fantasy. Do
you agree?"

Once again I nodded. "And when will I learn exactly what this fantasy is?"

Linda smiled wickedly. "In good time. You'll be told when you have a need to
know. Don't worry. You're going to be very much a part of it. In fact, I
think it's going to turn you on like you've never been turned on before. I
know it will me. Just remember that you wanted the outrageous. Some of the
most outrageously erotic things are psychological, though." She laughed.
"Not to worry. It'll be plenty raunchy."

We fucked like rabbits that night. You know, one of those sessions when
there's no more cum in your balls, but your dick just keeps getting hard
again and again. When 3 a.m. hit, Linda's cunt was so sore, she gently
suggested sleep, and I gave in. Tired and fucked out as I was, I couldn't
sleep. My whole perspective on life had changed. It's hard to describe the
feeling, but the closest I can come is a mixture of excitement you can
almost taste, tinged with a strange anxiety and foreboding.

I looked at the clock. Tuesday morning, 4 a.m. I had to get up at 7 to make
it to work. I put my hand on Linda's soft black hair and gently stroked it.
She slept like a babe in arms.

Okay, I thought. I'm ready for whatever comes.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the week went by quickly enough. By Friday, I had almost
forgotten about the whole thing. Linda and I had planned to go out to dinner
to a small Italian place and hit a movie afterward. I got home, as usual,
about 6:30 p.m. and noticed that Linda's monkey-shit brown Honda was not in
the garage. She was usually home from work by 4:30.

Stepping into the foyer, I saw an envelope with my name on it taped to the
bannister. I quickly tore it open and began to read:

My Fantasy Part I

Hi, sweetheart! Sorry I had to break our date tonight. The fact is, I'm
going out with someone else. And yes, it's a man. Read this to the end
before you have a heart attack. Oh, and by the way, this is only the first
of a multi-part fantasy. Things are going to heat up, darling. (Just you
remember our agreement)

I. There's some frozen lasagna in the freezer you can heat in the microwave,
and a fresh Caesar salad I made up in the fridge. Help yourself and be sure
to rinse the dishes off before you put them in the dishwasher. You are not
to go out tonight, period. Understood?

II. I will not tell you his name. I met him through work a few months ago,
and only initiated this AFTER your appropriate loss at scrabble. He's about
6'2", brown hair, grey eyes, very "jock" looking, if you know what I mean.
He's fairly bright, but not as smart as you <grin>. He knows I'm married,
but thinks you're "away."

III. I don't know when I'll be home. It could be early, or it could be quite
late, depending on how things go.....

IV. Before you go to bed (and I want you in bed early, and rested, for when
I get home...) I want you to imagine, in great detail, all of the following:

I want you to imagine your pretty wife, dressed in my white silk blouse with
the high collar and no bras, the black skirt that hugs my ass the way you
like and the red "tong" panties you bought me for our anniversary
underneath, and the black pumps that drive you crazy, sitting in a cozy
restaurant and flirting with a handsome stud across from me. I want you to
imagine us at a nightclub afterwards, dancing. (No, I won't tell you where
we're going). Imagine all the things that can happen between two horny
people when the lights are low and the beat of the music is deep and sexy. I
want you to imagine the effects of the drinks, and the slow dancing, and the
sensual music. Imagine where his hands will go, and the things I might
whisper in his ear.

Most of all, I want you to imagine us ending up at HIS place (but only, of
course, after a respectable, but ineffective, attempt to say no). Imagine
all the things that might follow. Imagine your petite wife kneeling on his
living room floor and slowly, almost reverently, sucking his huge cock into
her mouth. Imagine him gently pulling a strand of hair from her forehead as
she gazes up unblinkingly into his eyes and mouths the tip of his cock.
Imagine her on the floor on her back, naked except for her pumps, with her
ankles on both sides of this strange man's neck, his cock pumping like a
piston into the cute little bottom you've fucked so often. Imagine her on
all fours like a dog, mounted. Imagine the excitement of the man, the thrill
of taking a woman who belongs to another man. The knowledge that, for that
brief time, HE owns her. He owns her tits, her mouth, her cunt and her ass.
She belongs to him, now, however briefly.

Finally, imagine the woman coming home to the husband. Imagine her crawling
into bed having been ravaged and fucked for hours, with another man's sperm
still dripping from her cunt like honey, and telling her loving husband
every detail. Imagine the voyeuristic pleasure, a pleasure made all the more
intense by the delay of not knowing what has happened. And imagine the
husband fucking his loving, pretty little wife like a bull.....

V. I expect you to imagine these things, or similar things, but you will not
masturbate. Is that clear? I will take care of things when I get home, if
you know what I mean.

Remember, tonight is only the beginning of quite a little adventure I have
in store for you. Be good. There's lot's more fun to come.

Your Naughty Wife,

Linda

I tossed the letter on the floor and ran up the stairs to the bathroom off
our master bedroom. I pulled open the second drawer of Linda's vanity. Sure
enough, her diaphragm and the tube of spermicide were gone.

I quickly showered and changed clothes. Popping the lasagna into the
microwave, I sat down at the dining room table and tried to compose myself.
I had a raging hardon. My heart raced like an engine and my palms were cold
and sweaty. I couldn't believe I was so horny. I hadn't felt this kind of
excitement since I was 16 years old and sitting in the back of my '67 Nova
with Susan Pelizzero's left nipple firmly in my mouth.

I wanted to analyze all the conflicting emotions, but knew now was not the
time.

God, a thousand images were racing through my mind. I could already see
Linda, sweet and sexy Linda, my Linda, my wife, pressed up close to some
strange man. What would they be saying and thinking? What were they doing
now?

I grinned. My wife sure knew how to push my buttons. The microwave timer
suddenly went off. I settled down to supper and to one of the longest, most
anticipatory waits of my life. I waited for my wife to get fucked and come
home.

To be continued...............

WIFE 2 (2 of 6)

10:00 p.m. and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting... They were probably done
with dinner by now and maybe even out on the dance floor. Every 10 or 15
minutes I found myself looking at my watch and conjuring up new images, new
snippets of conversation... Were they talking about me? What exactly was
Linda telling him about our relationship, our marriage? Whatever the
details, I just knew it centered on sex.

I'd successfully fought off the urge to masturbate. Right now, though, I
decided to change my underwear. After repeated tumescence, they were sticky
with pre-cum.

God, this was the weirdest conglomeration of competing emotions I'd ever
felt. One moment I felt like jumping in my car and hitting the nightspots to
look for them. I had no idea what I'd do if I found them, however. Probably
just watch them discreetly from a distance. Every once in a while a wave of
anger and jealousy would roll over me, though, and I'd fantasize about
marching up and confronting them. Those feelings would slowly melt away and
be replaced by a very profound lust. One side put an edge on the other and
made each emotion sharper and more defined; more REAL than feelings I'd had
in a long time.

In the back of my brain, a part of my mind started to wonder, just wonder
mind you, about the source and intensity of the turn- on. In our bondage
games, Linda was always the submissive. Submission had never been a part of
my erotic dreams or fantasies. Was it possible that, in allowing this to
happen, I was indirectly submitting to both Linda and her date? Or even
further, that I was somehow submitting directly to HIM, with her as the
intermediary or offering if you will? Were there, god forbid, homosexual
undertones here? You know, like subconsciously making love to him through my
wife? Okay, I'll admit, since I'm being perfectly frank here, that on a
couple occasions I'd fantasized about sucking cock. (I'm STRAIGHT,
alright!?) I hadn't gone very far with that particular mastabatory thread,
though, and it had been quite a few years ago. I'm not going to posture and
spout any of that homophobic shit. I despise it. But, on the other hand,
I've never gotten an erection looking at naked men. Just the opposite. It's
the quickest way I know to get rid of one.

10:05. Well, time's just flying by and I've come up with a ream of insights
into this whole thing. Jesus, sometimes my lack of self-awareness scares
even me. I grabbed the latest copy of Time magazine and lay down on the
couch in my den and tried to read, every once in a while rubbing my
throbbing, painfully hard cock with the heel of my palm. I looked over at
the clock on my desk.

10:10. Next to the clock was a picture of Linda taken a few years ago by a
photographer friend. An "artsy" black and white of just her face and her
long black hair cascading over her shoulder. Whenever I look at Linda for a
long time and have to describe her, the best I can come up with is a "fawn."
Everyone we meet say she reminds them of Audrey Hepburn (no, it's before my
time, but I HAVE seen her movies). I know I'm a pretty lucky guy to be
married to her. In my mind's eye, the picture transformed from a demure
smile to one of lust. Open mouth, head thrown back, sweat dripping, eyes
unfocused........

I woke with a start and immediately checked out my new friend, the clock.
2:30 a.m. I stumbled up, made sure the porch and entrance light were on,
then went upstairs. Taking my clothes off, I climbed into bed and collapsed.
Pornographic visions danced in my brain.

I heard a noise and jerked up on my elbow. I was fully awake in an instant.
Pretty shallow sleep, I guess. Footsteps coming up the stairway. I glanced
at the alarm clock. 4:30 a.m. I lay back down, feigning sleep, but with a
good enough angle to see out of the corner of my eye.

Linda came around the corner and stopped at the bathroom entrance. She
looked my way for a brief moment. Her hair was up (the way she wears it when
she "can't do anything with it"). She went in the bathroom and closed the
door. The water ran for what seemed like an eternity. The door opened and I
closed my eyes. I felt the bed move as she sat next to me and her hand
rested on my shoulder.

"Peter?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at her.

"Hi," I managed. "What time is it?"

"Late, darling." She stroked my forehead and climbed in next to me. She was
still fully clothed. Neither Linda nor I smoked, but I could smell the odor
of stale cigarettes in her hair. I wondered what "his" brand was.

Suddenly, her hand went down under the covers and grabbed my iron-hard cock.
The coolness of her hand was electrifying.

"Are you mad at me, darling?" she asked quietly.

"Hell no," I said with a grin. "But I will be if you don't spit out every
detail of what happened." Reassured, she snuggled in closer and I pulled the
blanket over both of us. Suddenly, while rhythmically pumping my cock, she
leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth. I returned it with passion. It
was all wet and tongue and she tasted of sex and wine.

"You're missing an ear-ring," I said when she pulled back.

"Oh, shit!" she said grabbing at her naked earlobe.

"So?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

She looked at me with a gleam in her eye.

"Well, I'm afraid I've been a naughty girl tonight."

I ran my hand down her back and over her thighs and buttocks. No underwear.

"They got a little messy, so I had to get rid of them," she grimaced.

As she stroked my erection, the following story emerged:

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Linda had met him at the restaurant for cocktails and a light supper. They'd
talked mostly about work at first, but the conversation had inevitably led
to his ex-wife and to me. She'd flirted relentlessly with him, firing off a
long series of innuendos and suggestions. He'd been fast on the uptake and
quickly responded in kind. She noticed that his eyes kept wandering to her
nipples that were nicely outlined by her silk blouse.

After dinner, they'd driven in separate cars to a small club on the west
side. They started dancing, and he'd been a gentleman at first, but after
Linda had started rubbing the upper part of her hip against his groin,
things got a bit more raunchy.

"God, that feels pretty nice." she'd whispered in his ear after letting her
hand drop down between them and into his crotch. The rubbing and grinding
had gotten a little too hot, and they'd gone back to the table.

At one point, near closing time, and Linda herself can hardly believe she
did this, she had reached under the table and under her skirt. Pulling her
panties aside, she'd pushed her middle finger deep into her soaking cunt.
Bringing it out, she'd put it to his lips and let him lick it clean, all the
while keeping their eyes locked.

They left his car in the parking lot and took hers to his apartment. She had
asked him to drive and as they made their way to his place, had reached
over, unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. Leaning over, she had
swirled her tongue around the tip to savored the taste of his pre-cum. "Do
you suck your husband's cock like this?" he had asked distractedly, trying
to concentrate on the road. Her mouth full, my wife didn't answer.

It was at this point that I exploded all over Linda's hand and my belly. My
cock now well lubricated with gobs of sticky cum, she continued to stroke it
slowly. As she went on with the story, I was very quickly hard again.

Once inside his apartment, his whole personality had changed. The
"gentleman" was gone. He had forced her onto her knees, unzipped his pants
and, looming over her, pulled his erect penis out. She reached up to take it
in her slender hands, but he had pushed them away.

"Just suck it. Use your mouth. You don't need your hands."

She had tried the best she could, but although he was about my length, he
had been much thicker around. She had worked her mouth over the bulging
crown and gotten it to the back of her throat and had started working her
tongue and lips when, suddenly, he had tensed and actually started coming!

She hadn't expected it so soon, had gagged, and a lot of it had dribbled
from the corner of her stretched lips. (I had noticed some suspicious stains
down the front of her blouse). She had done her best to swallow what she
could manage. It had been slightly sweet with a hint, she could have sworn,
of almonds, rather than the "salt-water" taste of mine.

"Your husband has a very nice little cock-sucker for a wife. I hope he
appreciates you," he had said, while wiping the few dribbles of cum from his
cock that Linda had missed.

They had sat on the couch and talked for a few minutes, and he was soon very
hard indeed again. He had taken his pants and shorts off. He stood my wife
up in front of his couch and made her bend over at the waist with her arms
on the back and her feet spread as wide as she could manage. He had hiked
her dress up over her waist and pulled her panties off. His big cock had
entered her from behind with little resistance.

She described the fuck as brutal and hard. (While the words said one thing,
the dreamy inflection of her voice told her real experience of it). He had
reached around with one hand and forced his three middle fingers into her
mouth, holding her tongue and lower jaw between the fingers and his thumb.
While it hadn't been painful, Linda described it as a very dominant and sexy
action. The other hand had been busily changing between working her clit and
squeezing her small breasts.

As he fucked deep into my wife, and while holding her violated mouth open,
he had whispered in her ear.

"This is for your husband. And this, pretty little cunt, is for you," he
whispered as he banged even harder into her hole.

The fuck had been long and hard. She had come 4 or five times, she couldn't
remember, and her legs were almost giving out when he finally came and
sprayed her cunt with semen.

They didn't talk much after that. He'd offered to let her spend the night,
but she had declined. After cleaning up as best she could, she had driven
straight home.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

I reached over and pulled her black skirt up. She scooted underneath me and
spread her legs wide. Even in the semi-light of our bedroom, I could see
that the lips of her pussy were red and swollen.

"It's okay, darling. It's a little sensitive down there, but if you take it
easy on me at first, it won't be a problem," she said.

She was probably the "loosest" and wettest I'd ever experienced in 8 years
of marriage, and even though I knew my cock was sliding in my wife's juices
mixed with a stranger's spunk, I didn't care a bit. As I pumped her slowly
and lovingly, our eyes locked.

Before I came again, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that
this was only the first "part" of her fantasy and, supposedly, the tamest
part.

God help me.

To be continued......

WIFE 3 (3 of 6)

For several weeks, our life went on pretty much as normal. Linda had
resisted my attempts to have HIM identified. My feelings had been a little
hurt since I felt that her reticence implied that I somehow could not be
trusted to let the incident drop. I think I could have gotten her to tell me
if I had been more persistent, but I had suddenly realized that his
anonymity contributed to the eroticism of the fantasy for me, and I stopped
pushing the issue.

As for Linda, it took a few days for me to fully convince her that not only
was everything alright between us, but that I had immensely enjoyed the
game. She had offered to stop now rather than risk any problems between us,
but I had reassured her that it had been a tremendous turn-on for me. Our
mutual understanding was that there had been no loving at all, only sex,
between them. I told her that I was ready for "part two." Grinning, she had
squeezed my buttocks, winked, and said, "You think so, huh?" Jeez!

On a Thursday night, about three weeks after the "fling," as we
euphemistically referred to it, Linda was washing some pots and pans while I
dried.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressed her up against the sink,
and gently began to move my hips and groin against her bottom. As ever, she
pushed her buttocks back against me and followed my rolling, grinding motion
(I believe that kitchens were created by god for this particular kind of
play. The preparation of food, etc., is only a secondary function).

"I need you to stop at the store on your way home from work tomorrow," she
said.

"Sure. What do we need?" My cock was rigid and rubbing firmly in the crack
of her ass. I had stopped moving, but she had continued the motion, rising
on her toes and then slowly settling down. I cupped her breasts from the
outside of her t-shirt.

"A bag of cotton balls, some masking tape and a few other odds and ends,"
she said matter-of-factly.

My ears suddenly pricked up. It was not lost on me that the "fling" had
happened on a Friday. Three weeks ago to the day, in fact. But cotton balls
and masking tape? Bondage....? We already had a small stash of "restraining"
toys. Hmmm. Interesting.

I turned her around and held her by her shoulders.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a little surprise you might have in
store for me tomorrow, would it?" I asked.

"Darling, if I told you the truth, you wouldn't get a good night's sleep.
You're like a child on Christmas Eve."

She was right. I didn't.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn't accomplish a damn thing at work on Friday. I had butterflies in my
stomach for most of the day. I left a little early (boss' prerogative), and
made it home by 6:15 after stopping for the "items" needed.

Linda's car was in the driveway. So she was home this time. Opening the
front door, I stepped in and looked around. The house was immaculate. Since
Linda and I were both professionals and had little time for housework, we
employed a cleaning service during the week. But when she did have the time,
Linda was meticulous in her work. This was her doing. There was a gorgeous
flower arrangement on the living room mantle and a roaring fire below.

Linda stepped around the corner and smiled.

She took my breath away. She wore a full length powder-blue evening dress
that was dangerously low-cut, her best pearl necklace, heels and a pretty
white bow in her hair. She ran and hugged me like we hadn't seen each other
in a month. We kissed like newlyweds.

"Hi, sexy!" she said with a grin.

"Darling, I'm absolutely stunned. You've outdone yourself.

"Well, it did take a little work. I'll take that bag. Everything's here?"

"Everything you ordered."

"Dinner will be ready by the time you finish showering. Don't dress up when
you're done. Wear your normal slobbish attire."

I grinned. "As opposed to YOUR normal, slobbish attire?" I asked, taking
another look at my gorgeous wife.

"Just do as you're told tonight, Peter. Be a good boy."

She hugged me again, and whispered "I love you" in my ear.

"I love you, too." I said, and went up to shower.

I quickly showered, put on a pair of corduroy slacks, a sweater and my
loafers. We dined on poached salmon with dill sauce accompanied by an
extra-fine German white. Dessert was a simple bowl of chilled, fresh
raspberries in cream. I poured myself a brandy, and we moved to the living
room.

I settled on the couch and began to sip the 50 year old liqueur. Linda sat
on the floor between my feet with her legs curled up under her.

"Well," I said. "I'm coming to appreciate your fantasies more each time."

"I'm glad, sweetheart. There's a bit more to come, though. You may want to
withhold judgement until the end of the night."

The brandy's golden burn in my throat and stomach had begun to relax every
muscle in my body. I felt ready for anything.

"We need to talk, dear," she said suddenly. Uh-oh.

"You do remember our understanding and agreement, don't you? This is my
fantasy, and I expect you to cooperate in every way."

She moved up to her knees to look into my eyes.

"Whatever happens, remember that I love you, and ONLY you," she said slowly,
those emerald green eyes boring into my soul. "Remember to relax, to let
things play out. Most of all, you must do as you're told. Do you understand
and agree?"

Here come the butterflies. "Yes, babe. This is your night. Let's be decadent
and naughty," I said, holding her hands in mine.

She looked searchingly into my eyes for a long time. I think she found the
trust that was there and that she was looking for, because she smiled, rose
and kissed me on the forehead.

"Don't move. I'll be right back." she said lightly.

She returned a moment later with a blindfold, the cotton, and the tape.

"You're not going to be able to see anything that happens tonight. I know
how visually stimulated you are. I'm sorry, but I'm hoping that, if things
work out like I think they will, you won't miss your eye-sight." She placed
the cotton gently over my eyes, then the blindfold. The cotton cut off that
little area just under my eyes along the bridge of my nose that I had always
been able to peek through before. The tape held the blindfold and cotton
firmly in place.

"Your brandy snifter is full. Relax and enjoy it. Let me know if you need a
visit to the restroom, and I'll help you." She snickered. "Things should
begin in about 10 minutes, as soon as our guests arrive."

"Guests? Did you say guests? I'm sure I distinctly heard you say 'guests.'"

"That's right. Guests. You know, like in visitors. Now relax. Gee, I wonder
what's going to happen?"

I grinned. "You are the naughtiest, most conniving little tease!"

The "guests" must have been early, because the doorbell rang. Linda leaned
down and whispered, "Enjoy, babe. Remember that I'm still your wife tomorrow
and after."

I heard her move to the door and open it. Muffled voices. Footsteps. Two
pair? Three? Movement around me. Other noises. Then quiet. A cough. A male
cough. Thank God for the brandy! I felt amazingly comfortable considering I
was sitting blindfolded in front of total stranger(s) in my own home.

"Good evening, Peter. It's a pleasure to meet you, although these are
somewhat interesting circumstances. My name is William."

His voice was very deep. It had that self-assured quality I associate with
my peers who have, and are used to wielding, power.

"I've had the pleasure of meeting your wife once before, but I can assure
you it was a purely friendly meeting. In fact, it was to arrange this little
get together. By the way, there are four people in this room. You, your
wife, myself and my wife. My wife's name is Breigha. While it makes little
difference what my profession is, I can tell you that my wife is a very good
photographer, and that she has all of her equipment here tonight."

"The details of how and why your wife contacted us are also of little
relevance. I assume Linda will answer all your questions at a later time."

"So. Where to begin? I am here at your wife's bequest. It appears that we
are going to get somewhat friendly and intimate over the next few hours. I
understand that you will cooperate and do as you're told. I appreciate that
and will expect it from you and from Linda. Our first ground rule is that
no-one, other than myself, will speak in this room unless spoken to first.
Do we have agreement?" I nodded. I heard Linda say "yes."

"Good. Your wife has determined the general outline of what will happen
tonight. I have a very deep appreciation for her imagination, as well as for
her good looks and intelligence. You're a lucky man, Peter. What she has not
determined, however, are the many details that, as I'm sure you realize
being the professional you are, make all the difference. In that respect,
she will be as much in the dark, so to speak, as you." Ha. Funny.

"Good. The "general outline" is as follows. First, everything that takes
place will be photographed by my wife in great detail for your and Linda's
viewing pleasure down the years, although I would suggest keeping it out of
the family album." The guy was a riot.

"That is the extent of my wife's participation. Second, I am going to make
love to your wife, Peter. It will be an honor and a pleasure, I assure you.
Your job, tonight, is to assist me. Not to participate, per se, but to make
Linda more "available," more "easily accessible," shall we say. Things will
become clearer, I promise. I must tell you that although I consider myself
bisexual, there will be no direct sexual activity, as such, between you and
I. At least hardly any."

Right. THAT statement took the ambiguous prize.

"Thirdly, your wife has requested that I use graphic and explicit language.
She is, as many people are, aroused by it. But you know that. I only mention
it so that you aren't shocked."

"Finally, Linda here has pretty much given me free reign as far as the kinds
of pleasantries we will indulge in. 'Anything goes,' I believe were your
words, yes?"

"Yes," I heard Linda say. Her voice had a quiver in it.

"I'm glad. I think I'm going to enjoy this as much as you and Peter. We all
understand, then, that this is purely a little sexual adventure for
everyone. That afterward, my wife and I return to our world, and both of you
to yours. I do not expect either of you to ever contact us again. Although
that may be a shame, it's necessary. On a final note before we begin, I have
to tell you that I have rarely met a woman more in love with her husband
than Linda is with you. Did you know that, Peter? How much she loves you?"

I nodded, a little embarassed and not knowing if anyone was even looking at
me.

"All right. Breigha, darling, you may begin setting up. Linda, would you be
so kind as to fetch me a glass of scotch? Just a little ice, please. Thank
you. Are you comfortable, Peter?"

"I'm okay," I mumbled. I could feel the heat from the fireplace as various
sounds I interpreted as "camera setting up" noises came from the other side
of the living room. I had heard Linda pick up my empty snifter beside me
and, as she passed by, she had put her hand on mine for the briefest of
moments. The alcohol put me in a mellow haze, made time slow down, and made
the acceptance of what was about to happen much easier than if I had not
been drinking.

Well, I thought, drop your socks and grab your .... Here we go on another
lovely little roller-coaster ride.