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

“That Marci won’t want that, what Meg and I just shared.”

“Are you sure you’ll want it? I mean, aside from tonight?”

She thought about it. “I’ve wanted it for a long time with Marci. I’ve been jealous of you. I’ve wanted what you had all summer. The three of us really connect, but only you two connect in that other way.”

“You want to be intimate with Marci too.”

“Do you care?”

“Not at all.”

“Do you think she would be receptive?”

“I can’t answer that. Only she can. She’s right over there. Find out.”

“As I said, I’m afraid to.”

“Then don’t. Maybe another time. Listen, she’s worried. She’s afraid this thing between us is just a fad. She doesn’t want it to be.”

“I don’t either. I wish you could marry her too. I wish I could.”

These comments dazzled me. There was no other way to put it. I had had the same wish but put it out of my mind. At least, I’d tried to. It kept coming back. Could a man have two full time wives? It was a ridiculous idea. I dismissed the thought, but knew it would come back.

“Susan, I think we’re okay here. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

She took this as good news, and we kissed like lovers, not a man and wife, and I felt not just a maddening desire for her and for Marci, but for the entire world. Susan’s next comment, therefore, landed like a non sequitur.

“I want you to sleep with Meg.”

“That’s what Marci told me earlier this evening.”

Susan laughed.

“Tell me why you want me to sleep with Meg.”

“Because I know you probably want to. I don’t mind. I mean I already did. And I might sleep with Harold.”

This conversation, along with my earlier conversations with Marci, were really beginning to tie my head in knots. My wife had just indicated she would marry Marci if it were allowed, and oh, by the way, she might sleep with Harold, and I may as well have a go with Meg.

“Don’t worry,” said Susan, noticing I was drifting. “I’ve talked with Meg. We both agreed. We don’t want to take this home with us, but while we’re here, and everyone is being so open about what’s going on, we may as well all bang each other.” She laughed, then kissed me as she mounted my submerged cock, which apparently had been standing at the ready.

“Ah, that’s nice! I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too.”

After a long kiss she dismounted and we exited the pool. We both knew we were having just a taste of each other, a quick reminder of how well we fit together both in marriage and body. We dried off by the bar. I fixed her a drink, and we joined Marci and Harold on the sofa. They were both naked as were we. Marci’s hand was on his thigh within inches of his semi-erect cock which, once again, appeared as it could double for my own.

A moment of indecision delayed where we sat. Greg and Meg still occupied the central area of the sofa and were quietly petting each other. I waited for Susan to determine where to place herself first. She elected to sit on the carpet in front of Harold, leaning on his left knee with her arm over its thigh, the one not occupied by Marci’s hand and his cock. It was a reasonable selection. I sat next to Marci. She acknowledged me with a kiss.

“Did you two have a nice chat?” she asked.

“We did,” said Susan, returning to the wifely role of answering for her husband. “I told Ryan I wanted him to sleep with Meg.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Marci.

“You won’t mind, will you Harold?” asked Susan. It wasn’t a fair question as she also picked up his cock. She held it as she’d held mine that morning, like a wand. We all watched it grow.

Harold smiled. “I think if Meg wants to sleep with your husband, she should.”

“That worked out,” said Marci. “Now you and Harold can bang too.”

“But first,” said Susan. “I’ve got something else on my mind.” She stood and smiled at me, then knelt in front of Marci. She separated her legs before Marci realized her intentions.

“God! Susan! What are you doing?!”

Susan kissed one knee, then the other, while her hands softly stroked Marci’s outer thighs. She looked at her.

“Nothing,” she said coyly with half-lidded eyes. She continued kissing Marci’s thighs, slowly moving up. Marci fidgeted, but not in any useful way. She looked at me with eyes wider than I would have thought possible.

“Fuck Susan! You’re not going to eat me? Oh fuck… Ryan!”

I kissed her lips. She was hesitant at first, then suddenly ravenous for my tongue. It calmed her down. Susan was progressing slowly, letting Marci adjust to what was going on. She looked at Susan, her expression disbelieving.

Susan looked into her eyes as her tongue made it first strategic lick. It was dead center, just slightly depressing Marci’s pubic hair. I watch with rapt attention as did Harold and Marci.

Marci gasped and moaned. “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!!!” Susan’s tongue continued to roam. It circled Marci’s lovely plump vulva, then moved increasingly toward the center up to the clitoral hood. Susan lifted it with her tongue. It flicked Marci’s clit, and this sent the ball out of the park. I knew it wouldn’t take much now.

Marci convulsed. “FUCK SUSAN!!! OH GOD!!! YOU CAN’T BE DOING THIS!!! OH FUCK!!!” Her pelvis rolled into Susan, now licking and probing aggressively.

I pinched Marci’s right nipple and she wailed. Harold’s mouth descended on her left nipple and she wailed again. Susan inserted two curved fingers, knowing exactly where they should land. She stroked Marci’s G-spot as she licked her clit.

Marci exploded. Every muscle of her body filled with fever, contracting and expanding. She turned her body over to unseen forces which took control of her limbs. Susan stayed with her, divinely attentive, knowing where and how to maximize Marci’s orgasm.

As she settled