We walked in a gentle sunlight past the library and crossed the street to the Beaverton park. We passed each bench with a discreet sidelong glance. A elderly couple. A mom tucking her daughter’s hair behind her ears before the girl ran off to join the other kids in the grass. A man. The man, on second glance. David. With the black clothes and the white mug of coffee. He saw us coming and was already smiling and standing by the time we stopped. You held out your hand and he shook it, then mine. His handshake was firm and his palm was dry and warm.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” he said after you introduced us. “Based on looks alone, I’d be pleased to meet with you in private.”
I grinned, half self-conscious and half laughing at myself for being shy. I saw you checking him out, his neatly-cropped hair, his brown eyes slightly enlarged behind his plain black plastic-framed glasses. I wondered if you found him sexy, or if sexiness in a man didn’t matter to you.
I can’t even remember the chit-chat. I know we exchanged pleasantries, I remember I spoke and was a participant in the conversation. But what I really remember is being struck by the idea of being with a man who wasn’t you. It was suddenly a much weirder idea, less fantasy and more possible future event, with this handsome and only slightly overweight man in front of me. Someone our age. Someone who’d already fulfilled other couples’ fantasies of a discreet one-night threesome with an outsider. It made me realize how insulated a marriage might be, not in a bad way, but in a very concrete way. The only cock I’d known in twenty years was yours. The only fantasies I’d ever had to fill were yours and mine. Would I be good enough, talented enough to handle two men?
Somehow, during the conversation, I calmed down and enjoyed myself. David seemed kind, accepting, not overly dominating. But what really put me at ease was how much you seemed to like him. I reminded myself that I wasn’t going to be bearing the burden of serving two men at the same time unless I really wanted to, in which case it wasn’t a burden but an act to be joyfully explored. Did I really want to?
I looked at David again. Tried to imagine looking up into his eyes as he fucked my mouth. Tried to imagine seeing his face behind your shoulder as he fucked you and you fucked me. I found that I liked those images. That fantasy man who sometimes appeared in my mind finally had a face.
Finally you turned to me, eyebrows raised, “What do you think?”
“I think he’s okay. I’m looking forward to tonight,” I heard myself say. It felt unreal and somehow also very final, like I had shut the door on opting out.
“Do we need a maestro and roles to play to make it easier on the three of us,” David asked, “or do we just want to feel things out as they go?”
You glanced at me before saying, “Naomi prefers to be submissive. I think she might enjoy serving us if the two of us are polite and kind.”
My clit gave a little, stinging leap. You were right, of course, it was something we had talked about, but to hear you say it, out loud, to another man, was an incredible turn on.
“He’s right,” I said faintly, smiling.
Dave’s smile grew larger. “I’d be delighted. So, something like a first date for us men, with a lovely woman to serve us and foster the relationship, then.”
You and I both nodded. That little leap turned into a throb as my pussy started to become engorged. Even if my brain had concerns, the rest of my body was clearly eager.
“What time shall I arrive?” he asked.
“Seven?” you said.
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
We shook hands again and I swear there was an additional pressure in the handshake, like a secret code between Dom and sub. I felt weak in the knees. I watched him walk away. His black jeans hugged his ass, they didn’t sag like typical men’s jeans. I nervously bit my lower lip as I watched, then turned back to you.
“Are we doing the right thing?” you asked me.
I nodded, saying, “I think we are. It’s better to try it out now than find ourselves in our 80’s, regretting we didn’t take a chance.”
“And you’ll still love me even if my penis isn’t as big as his,” you said.
“Yes. I love you for all sorts of things, tangible and un-. No one’s penis, or anything else for that matter, would get in the way of that or detract from it.”
You kissed me, hard, hungrily.
“If only we weren’t so old that we could go home and fuck now and still be guaranteed to have enough energy when he arrives tonight,” you said wistfully when you finally broke the kiss.
“See?” I said, grinning, “It’s already almost too late to do these kinds of experiments!”
You took my hand, like you always do, and we meandered back home, trying to figure out how to pass the time between 2:30 and 7 without driving ourselves insane with lust.
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