The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

over and took the crumpled bag, straightened it out, folded it, all while eyeing me as if I’d committed a crime against nature.

“We recycle those, Ryan,” she said. “Oh good, liquor. Are we having a drinking day?”

“I thought it’d be fun,” said Marci. “I didn’t know if you had tequila so I got some.”

“Great,” said Susan. She investigated the rest of Marci’s haul. “Good, you got the shrimp. Yummy.”

“Where have you been?” I asked Susan.

“I was weeding the front flower beds.”

“In your clothes?” She gave me a smirk.

Susan was in very bright spirits. She was wearing high-cut shorts and a sleeveless blouse, and her hair was in a cute, weekend ponytail, which made her look like a teenybopper.

As Marci and Susan were tall women and kept themselves trim, their height was somehow enhanced. They intimidated most men. At 6’3” I was immune to their intimidating height, but not to their charms. Marci was dressed similarly to Susan and having the two of them now fussing around the kitchen was a real treat.

Even though I’d seen both women naked, and plenty of times, I’d never seen them naked together. I still wasn’t sure full nudity was on the agenda. At least, it was hard to believe it was on the agenda. I assumed they really just meant to go topless, despite Susan’s earlier dirty-talk involving Greg seeing her nether bits.

Though I would be a beneficiary, they were doing it to see if Greg would notice, and whether his ‘noticing’ would spark a fire in Susan, perhaps even both of them—and me, of course. That thought caused a butterfly to stir in my belly.

It was my habit to over think things and I was tired of it. The only worthwhile analysis would come after all of their cards had been played.

“Should I make a pitcher now?” asked Marci, holding up the tequila. Feeling neutral on the subject, I let Susan helm the reply.

She drummed her fingers over her lips to indicate she was thinking. She had one hand on her waist and looked adorable in her short shorts. She glanced at the backyard and then back to Marci.

“Yeah. I think I’d better have a drink if we’re going to follow through with this. Maybe a couple.”

I didn’t mention seeing Greg earlier, and I didn’t see him now. Marci made a pitcher of margaritas and we sat at the kitchen table, saving any further outdoor appearances until we had a plan.

Marci started the conversation. “I think we should go out there like we usually do, chat for a while, then just casually take something off because we’re hot. It is hot out there, by the way.”

It was and also becoming oppressively humid.

“Should we be in our bathing suits?” asked Susan. “I can lend you one, Marci.”

“Why?” she said. “In fact, it would play better if we weren’t. We’ll be opting for clothing optional like we were too tired to go put on our suits.”

“Okay,” said Susan. She seemed to favor this idea, and I wondered if she was now planning her “striptease”, including what lingerie to wear and then remove. Facing the backyard, I saw Greg make a pass over his deck. I ignored it. I was getting aroused once more by hearing the women planning their adventure, but also feeling a little strange over my participation, like I was a pimp or some other form of low life. I shook it off.

We drained our first margaritas and Marci poured another round. Though not heavy with tequila, I felt the first one immediately, having only consumed espresso that morning. I went to the fridge and withdrew Susan’s leftover tagliatelle from Delizioso and ate it standing over the sink.

With my belly now somewhat sated, I was feeling impatient for the show to begin, though “show” wasn’t the right word.  It was an experiment, and this was science rather than some demented scheme formulated by three unscrupulous suburbanites.

I knew this was stretching it.

“Okay,” I said. “I guess you two can take the pitcher outside and start your little charade.”

Susan and Marci both now looked hesitant or as if they had stage fright.

“Just go out there like you two always do,” I said. “You spend half your summers out there drinking and chatting. Treat it like any other weekend. You don’t have to walk out there naked.”

They laughed. Before heading outside, Susan came over and gave me a kiss.

“Are you sure about this, Ryan?” she asked.

“I’m fine, as I keep saying. Just have fun. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Well, I’m doing this for us, right? To spice things up for us?”

“That’s the idea.”

She thought for a moment and frowned. “And seeing Marci naked again—is that going to make you, I don’t know…”

I interrupted her. “You’re worried I’ll get aroused by seeing her naked?”

“Well, I suppose it would be natural if you did.”

“You’re the only one I want to make love to, honey.”

“Me you too!”

Though she sounded genuine and sincere, my mind was already exploring a broader horizon. What if her new adventurous side escalated into someone more? More importantly, would she like it to? For example, she had as much as already said she could see making love to Greg when she first told me about her ‘incident’, the one that sparked all of this. But could she actually do it?

Why did this prospect excite me too? And why was I now looking at Marci differently? The evening before, when she reached under the table to feel my cock, I wasn’t shocked.

It had almost felt normal.

Chapter 11: Clothing Optional

INTO THE BREACH

I took one of the kitchen island stools to the bedroom, placed it by a window, and enjoyed a good view of our deck and backyard. I could also monitor Greg from this location. Susan and Marci had aligned the dual chaise lounger with the sun and were lying with the headrest raised. I saw their bodies from head to foot whereas Greg’s view would be from the