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Monogamy in Peril

Subtitle: 
Monogamy in marriage comes to an end

In the two years before we married, we both played around. She, a lot more than I. I was OK with it and even learned to let her stories of sexual adventures turn me on. But now in our marriage we meant to be monogamous, and for the first few years we were. But, Cindy was very cute, sexy, in her late 20s, and really loved cock. She had tits and a clit surrounded by thick plush pussy lips that just wanted to be played with. I must admit that I could be a bit adventurous myself, not bad looking, and I loved pussy and loved a set of lips on my cock as well. We both felt the call of adventure and hung around a crowd that was sexually charged. There were parties and clubs, and bars after work or school. I could have held out with the monogamy thing, but I knew full well she was at or beyond the end.

She would go overnight to see her Mother, and would go to her old favorite bar for a few drinks, and some dancing wearing cocktail dresses, or very short skirts, high heel platform shoes, designer underwear and thigh high stockings that were upscale, stylish. sexy, and none of the clothing could be considered "modest". These were not outfits to wear while taking Mom out to dinner. I knew the outfits she would take with her. Some unbuttoned up the front, and if worn with platform heels and unbuttoned up to a certain level, her pussy could easily be played with. When she came home and unpacked, the dresses and skirts with buttons in front seemed unbuttoned to that level. The lacy panties and bra often put back in her dresser, indicating that they hadn't even been worn.

She had told me about a few fast fucks and blow jobs in the parking lot of the bar, and in nearby motels and apartments during evenings there prior to marriage, but she swore that nothing ever "happened" after. She did admit that some of her old fuck and suck buddies occasionally showed up and she mumbled that a few bar tabs had been picked up, supposedly for chatting, fast dances, brief hugs, and quick kisses on the cheek. Given that she didn't believe that sucking a cock but finishing it off by hand "counted", even if she did lick the last few drops of cum on the cock afterwards, I wasn't too comfortable with her definitions. Considering that she didn't even like her Mother, she seemed to visit her quite often. I still believe that her lips, tits and pussy were somehow a lot more involved with those evenings than she let on, and even that she had reacquainted with a cock or a few from the past.

We had a nice social circuit of friends. Little black dress evenings were her favorites, and girls would test the boundaries of shortness, shearness, cleavage and open plunging backs, meaning no bras. Cindy never lagged behind and at times was the first to go to that next step. Thigh high stockings were encouraged, with or without garter belts. Panties became shearer, then miniscule string things or disappeared alltogether. Men dressed their best, no jeans, no shorts.

When the group was small, a card game might start up, strip poker was played under dimmed lights. Cindy was the first to offer to refresh everyone's drink after losing the last hand. As she walked around filling wine glasses, I could see that her bare pussy was at eye and tongue level with the seated guys and that she made no motion to turn her hips away from their faces. Guys were putting their empty glasses just a little extra reach away, so that Cindy's pussy was now only inches away from more than friendly gazes. Prior to these evenings, Cindy would spray a little perfume near and around her pussy. Thankfully the other wives playing returned the favor when it was their turn to pour the wine. Guys had their turns as well, and I made sure to get my cock as close to the other women as their husbands did to Cindy. If that game had continued another few times, maybe just once, someone, somehow would have touched or more than touched and all hell would have broken loose in a cum fest of blow jobs. Unfortunately a couple of the people felt that we were going a little too far as it was. To Cindy, things were just getting interesting. Girls became more conscious of how their pussies were trimmed and increasingly shaved, and Cindy's was not the only one with a hint of perfume.

Then came the valentine's day "Lingerie" party. Men wore silky shirts and boxer shorts, and since cocks might burst through the flap, some wore a thong under the boxers. Frankly, not many in our group played strip poker. The flashes of tits and pussy viewed under or through those black dresses at the parties had been fast, fleeting and in subdued low light. More illusion than nakedness. Not so this time. Sure, the lights were low, candles only, but as eyes adjusted, and robes were discarded, there was no mistaking the areolas and nipples visible through the flimsy gauze, mesh or fishnet of see through or at least transluscent bras, bustiers, and babydolls even the red ones or ones with little red hearts. Little dark triangles of fur, most immaculately trimmed, were visible through the almost transparent panties. With alcohol, the warmth in the house, and the discomfort of some bustiers, it wasn't long until only the flimsiest of teddys, or babydolls covered many of the women. No more just quick peeks. I spent more time looking at Cindy as she paraded around, so comfortable, barely aware she was almost naked. Her open cup bustier off, now wearing only a sheer babydoll with a g string bikini bottom. I looked at the men watching her. Though she had far from the biggest tits, I thought there were none sexier and few more exposed. She knew it and she loved it.

Cindy said that she had seen this girl reach into the slit in my boxers and rub my cock. I said it was no big deal since I had a thong on underneath.

"Oh" she said, "I returned the favor to her husband, but he wasn't wearing a thong." She giggled and asked: "So did you do anything back to her?"

"I played with her tits and nipples and her pussy briefly over her outfit as well... you?" I said almost matter of factly.

"He did the same", she said... "only not so briefly and not over the outfit." She giggled again.

I looked down at the small mesh and lace triangle of see through material barely covering her pussy held in place by a thin red cord running around her waist and a double one between her legs that had been pushed to one side, fully exposing her pussy lips. She saw me looking and had a bout of selfconscience, realizing that an adjustment of the red cords between her legs was needed to restore some modesty.

Soon, Cindy told me that she was incredibly horny and that we needed to go home.

"How about going off to a back bedroom?" I asked.

"C'mon, who goes off to a back bedroom with their own husband... besides, it's crowded back there, tough to concentrate on what you are doing." Once again she laughed.

"So how do you know that? And, what were you doing that required that much concentration?" I asked.

I'm not sure whether she didn't want to answer or hadn't heard me. Either way, I didn't ask the question again. I'm sure she heard me, she had that smile.

After the valentine's party, things seemed to move a little faster . Cindy admitted to kisses involving the tongue, a hand on the back worked it's way around and fondled her tits. A caress of her butt, came around to the upper thigh and made it's way to her pussy. The fact that it was well shaved and wet with only a small triangle of nicely trimmed hair said that this was a pussy meant to be played with. Sometimes those fingers stayed long enough for her to get weak kneed and "get there". At first, those littles forays were sneaked while I was preoccupied with another young lady. At some point, she knew that I watched her, and that it turned me on, and there was no doubt she did some things for my benefit... and her enjoyment.

As evenings wore on, she would become less concerned that a short skirt's hem was only an inch lower than her uncovered pussy lips allowing them to be viewed with slightest bend, dip or shift in a seat. Cindy was a master at making sure her tits and pussy could be seen and played with easily.

Yet, after that third drink, she had a look that said: "Don't make small talk, dont kiss me, don't rub my back or my butt, dont't fondle my tits anymore, play with my pussy."

She in turn might tease a lump in a pair of pants. Once, a long loose shirt hid a pair of unbuttoned pants. By her account, she had grabbed his cock, and he came quickly, she had licked her wet sticky fingers. I don't really think it happened quite that way nor all that fast. I suspect the stroking took a good while to get to ejaculation. I also suspect that this would not have happened in a crowded bar. I had heard the bar had a private upstairs area, available only to certain select people, of which Cindy was or would have gotten an invitation from. My visions and fantasies were taking me all over the place.

As we moved up the social food chain, we got invites to pool parties, hot tubs and spas. Tops, then bottoms came off quickly, bodies touched, not always inadvertently. By the third party, Cindy was comfortable enough to enter and exit water, without bothering with a coverup. No towel draped over her tits or pussy when other men were watching, or especially when men were watching, and men were always watching. The pool shower doors were left open, soft lights or candles stayed lit and company in the shower seemed welcome, or she would become the company. I enjoyed watching, she knew that, she enjoyed showing, and I never reproached her anything. Even though some guy's cock got too much soaping (I think it was only soap.) and stroking, as did the area between her pussy lips and I could tell when "company" had found her clit.

Then, one time, in a spa, there was a guy slowly stroking himself to hardness in the bubbly water. Suddenly, he grabbed Cindy by the hips from behind as she stood up and pulled her onto his lap... I knew right then he had gotten his cock inside her. She didn't exactly jump off with indignant surprise, she wiggled a bit first, smiled and laughed, and perhaps the wiggling was longer than a bit and the motion became more up and down. Since she had made no gesture of being uncomfortable, quite the contrary, I saw no reason to interupt. No one else sitting in the spa wanted me to interupt her either. She came close to admitting that he had asked her before he did that if she would be ok with it.

She must have said yes.

I also knew that if she had asked me if she could keep the cock inside her for a while longer, I would have said yes. She said the only thing that really stopped her was that the other people in the spa might have had some aversion to cum floating around in their bubbles.

It was only a matter of time until something "happened", even by her definition, although I was pretty sure it already had. I asked her how long would it be until some guy "touched" her pussy to wetness and weak knees, and took her by the hand more than willingly into a back bedroom, moving the little red cord off to the side, reclining her onto the coat that some poor guest had haphazardly thrown on the bed, and left a wet spot and white stain, even though other moanings and motions in the room made concentration a bit difficult. She knew I was painting a vision of what I surely thought had already taken place. Yet, she still didn't admit to it, but she didn't disagree that it would happen soon. She stopped short of saying: "Again".

She agreed that the pussy and cock touchings were getting more frequent, lasted longer, were getting harder to pull away from and that she enjoyed them and she knew that I did as well. She had already gotten to the "Ooooh that feels good" part. The "Don't stop" part was not far behind, if indeed it was still behind us. The "And what can I do for you" part had to some extent been reached. To what extent, I wasn't sure, but my imagination was giving me visions of many scenarios, and all of them involved more than a little finger fucking, a quick hand job in a bar, a few seconds of cock humping in a spa, or a fast dance and a peck on the cheek for a bar tab.

Could our experiment with monogamy have already come to an end in a dark, crowded back bedroom without her even having to remove the last few vestiges of garments, to the extent that you can call a red cord running along her pussy, a garment. Had she gone back to the guy she frustrated in the spa and this time not caring where the cum might end up. Or, had it been a cock fellated to eruption on a plush leather couch in the secret, members only, upstairs of a swanky pub. Could it have been a once familiar cock revisiting her pussy and no doubt her lips and tongue in the parking lot or next door motel after it's owner had massaged her easily available pussy to wetness and excitement during a slow dance, fueled by another double of her favorite vodka drink. Did fucking someone you had fucked before marriage count? Had more than one of those possibilities happened?

The term swinging came up with increasing frequency in our conversations, our fantasies in and out of the bedroom, and in coversations with others.

I finally let it all out admitting to her that I got very turned on at the thought of watching her with someone else's cock sliding in and out of her, glistening with the wetness of her excitement and his cum. I also told her that I wanted to watch her suck on another guy's cock and erupting into her mouth, the cum dribbling out of the corner of her mouth, down her chin and onto her tits. She knew she was ready. I knew she was more than ready, but maybe not quite ready to let me watch or even admit to it...yet.

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