The Devil Comes Out at Night Pt. 03

Be sure and read parts 1 and 2 if you haven't already, or if you'd like to refresh your memory. I have a few more parts of this story series already written, and I'll be putting out continuations every once in a while, whenever the Devil makes me do it.

—

"I don't think you should wear that dress to church again."

The words were spoken to me by my best friend, Carol Lindsey, as I filled a styrofoam cup with steaming hot coffee at the donuts table in the church's Fellowship Hall, right after Sunday service.

"Why not? Don't you think it's pretty? I think it is."

Oh, sure, it's very pretty," Carol said, "but, it's attracting attention. From men."

I shouldn't have smiled, but I did. "Really? Who?"

"Don't look!" Carol said, horrified that she'd started something she shouldn't have. "It's...Bob Smythe. He keeps looking at you, and there's a look in his eyes that...surprises me."

"It doesn't surprise me," I said. "He's always had a way about him, don't you think?"

"Yes, but...well, he just shouldn't. Not here. Not anywhere. He's married. You're married."

I looked over at Bob and smiled and nodded, the way polite people do at church functions. My mind wasn't acting polite, though. I was having a vision of him, naked, sprawled out on his side, propped up on his elbow, just the way Burt Reynolds was in his famous Playgirl centerfold. "He's the most handsome man, don't you think?" I said, still looking at Bob. "Did I tell you I saw him in his bathing suit? That dark hair is...all over him."

"Margaret!"

I nearly laughed at the gasping way Carol said my name. It seemed like good fun, but then I remembered where we were, and who I was. Church secretary at a deeply Christian house of God. I glanced down at my robin's egg blue dress and thought about my decision process for choosing to wear it that morning. It was a new dress, and I wanted to show it off. That's what it came down to, even though it was halfway to a cocktail dress in style, with a snug, form-fitting shape and the lowest scoop neck of any dress I'd worn to church. There was cleavage on display, but it wasn't nearly as much as I could have put out there. I was suddenly aware of the feel of the white pearls around my neck, and goosebumps covered every inch of me. "I think it's a pretty dress," I said. We're women, after all. Men are supposed to desire us."

Carol just looked at me, expressionless. I couldn't read her at all.

—

My friends tend to be conservative, the way Carol is. Christianity draws that way of being out of people, or maybe, more accurately, it represses open-minded thoughts, and what's left, in the vacuum, is conservative. I've become much more open-minded ever since that night in the Adirondacks when I let my inner slut loose with Bob Smythe and Harvey Gantry and Jim Halvert. Some might say it's the Devil's influence that's skewing my thinking. Some days I'd agree, but some days I'm not so sure.

My husband Donald has let his mind become a lot more open, too. Our marriage councilor helped a lot with that. She made watching porn seem okay, even used it as a tool to help us. Donald took to it in a way I didn't expect. He was so caught up in the ways of the church I didn't know if he'd even take her suggestion, but soon he and I were sitting down in front of the television in our living room, eating popcorn while we watched sexy people fuck.

One thing we learned in counseling, which you probably remember, is that Donald was turned off sexually by how much I reminded him of my mother. It's true, I had grown into my adulthood making myself look like my mother, and even my grandmother, with beauty parlor 'permanents' in my hair and Aqua Net hairspray to hold it just so. I wore the most conservative clothes I could find, thinking it was 'appropriate' for my job as church secretary. I wore the most conservative underwear, too. It's no wonder Donald wasn't turned on.

These days, my hair is grown out, dyed blonde and styled after a middle-aged porn star named Nina Hartley. I wear glasses, and instead of the 'old lady' styles that are commonly worn by women my age I found some black frames that actually make me look younger. Donald sometimes asks me to keep them on when we have sex, so they must be kind of good. He also sometimes holds onto my hair nice and tight when he fucks me from behind, so that must be kind of good, too. I know it is for me.

The porn watching has been especially interesting, opening a wide world that Donald and I didn't know about. Both of us enjoy the porn that features more than just two people. I was surprised he liked it, but I knew I would. I've long had fantasies about multiple male partners, and I've already told you my stories about my two actual experiences, the two times when fantasy became real.

One evening, we were doing our marriage counseling 'homework', as we call it, even though we don't see the councilor anymore. It was a wonderfully dirty porn, with lots of threeways and moreways, and it all climaxed in a big orgy scene that made my heart race.

"Do you think that happens in real life?" I asked Donald.

"I think it probably does, but...it's one of those 'not in our town' kind of things."

"Who's town, then? Aren't people the same everywhere?"

Over time, we watched more and more multi-partner porn. Group sex seemed to be a niche we could both always agree on.

"Would you ever do anything like that?" Donald asked one night, watching the screen intently as he casually ate popcorn that was spiced with a little chili powder.

I know my Donald well, and I knew his question was more than a simple curiosity. He wanted to know. For real.

"Under the perfect circumstances, yes," I said. "More than yes. It's...a fantasy of mine. A big one."

"Really? Me to. I mean, it's only natural, I guess."

I smiled. "You think group sex is natural?"

"No, not that. Fantasizing about it is, though. Don't you think?"

"Maybe. I hope so. That means I'm not a freak," I said, smiling.

Donald smiled, too. "Church secretaries are rarely freaks," he said.

"Would you still love me if I was one?"

"You know it," Donald said.

Some more time passed. We were naked in bed one night, loving and cuddly after some nice sex. Somehow we got onto the subject of group sex fantasies and threeways. I felt bold, and I asked a question I didn't think I'd ask...

"What would the man who fucks me be like?"

Donald smiled. "Bigger than me. I want to see the look on your face."

"Really? That wouldn't bother you?"

"What, the look on your face, or the fact that he's bigger than me?"

"Both, I guess."

"What can I say," he said. "You've turned me into a pervert. The porn we watch, it sort of changes your...ideas about things."

"Do you wish it hadn't?" I asked, smirking. "Would you rather be the Donald you used to be?"

"No! I love where we're at. But you know how life is, you get somewhere and you can't help but wonder what it would be like if you went a few steps further."

My smirk turned into a soft, curious smile. "Are we really considering this? Other people? With us?"

Donald shrugged. Shrugs usually aren't explosive, but that one was. I couldn't believe my eyes, but I knew I'd be onboard with whatever was happening. Donald didn't disappoint me. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he said, "but I'd be open to it, under the right circumstances."

"Wow," I said. "We've certainly come a long way in a short time. We need to think about this. I mean...would it be...right for us?"

"That's hard for me to answer when you're naked and I've got the vision of you in my head that I have right now."

I looked deep into my husband's soul, as best as I could. There was love there, unmistakable, and there was lust. I could almost see an image on the twinkling surface of his loving eyes — a misty image of Bob Smythe's massive cock cleaving though my glistening pussy.

"What would we...where would we...find like minded people?" I asked.

Donald shrugged again. "You're much more resourceful than I am. Maybe you can think of something."

That was the last word on the subject, but only because I was flabbergasted by my dear husband's willingness. Positively, absolutely flabbergasted.

—

I broached the subject of 'swinging' with Bob, as carefully as I could. I'd often wondered about his sexual backstory, and I wondered if he and his wife Jeana had ever dipped their toes — or more of themselves — into multi-partner waters.

"No," he said. "I wish I could say we're that adventurous, but no. I think I told you she likes to show off a little bit, in her bikinis and once or twice in her underwear, but nothing big's ever come of it."

"You wish, though? You wouldn't mind...sharing her?"

"Let me put it this way," he said. "It's one of my biggest fantasies, but, you never know whether you'll really like something until you do it, right?"

I, of course, knew just what Bob was getting at, and I couldn't wipe the smirk off my face. Memories swirled, of my three male lovers in the cabin, and of the second time with them on Bob's boat. A flare-up of extreme horniness like what I was experiencing sometimes makes me say things I normally wouldn't say, and it happened again...

"Donald and I were wondering if you and Jeana...might like to...spend an evening with us."

Bob looked at me and I looked at him. I was surprised I'd let the words out there, into the real world. Me, Margaret Norman, asking an Elder from my church if he and his wife would like to fuck me and my husband. It was crazy, and my pounding heart knew it.

"We'd love to, Margaret," Bob said. His eyes twinkled the way they do, and I was momentarily lost in a quick blast of euphoria.

"But...you said...you and Jeana have never..."

"Let's see what we can do," he said. "You hadn't ever, either, right? Before that beautiful night in the cabin? All it takes is the perfect circumstance. I told you she likes to show off in her bikini."

"You did. But...what we're talking about goes way beyond..."

"Donald's just the kind of man she likes, conservative but handsome. If she were to weigh the pros and cons, I'm sure she'd like the fact that you and Donald are so...proper, and respected. I mean, who would ever imagine. In our congregation? Couple swapping? It's preposterous, right?"

I nodded.

"If Jeana thinks she can fly under that kind of cover, who knows? She may go for it. And there's only one way to find out, right?"

I nodded again. My mind felt muddled. Bob's eyes were bright and he seemed to be thinking clearly. He reminded me of a dog that suddenly caught a whiff of a nice piece of meat on the neighbor's grill.

"Getting her into her show-off mood is the key," he said. "I think the boat is just the thing, don't you? Bathing suits, cocktails..."

"Wow," I said. "Are we seriously going to try and do this? Donald and...Jeana?"

"And Bob and Margaret," Bob said.

The way he said it, and the way he looked at me...I nearly melted on the spot.

"Donald doesn't know it was you," I said. "And he sure as heck doesn't know there was three of you guys."

"What did you tell him?"

"He just knows I had an affair. A quick one. Nothing drawn out."

"So we won't tell him. Will he wonder about the set-up, though? I mean, me and Jeana. What did you tell him about us?"

"Nothing yet. He sort of left it that I should put out some feelers. He said I was 'resourceful.' "

"Well, there's a couple ways to read that, I guess," Bob said. "He might be being nosey, to try and sleuth out who you slept with. Or he may genuinely not want to know, and just thinks you're better at sniffing out sexual deviants than he is."

"That's just what I was thinking. I'll be honest, though, I really don't think he wants to know any more about my affair. Our marriage councilor was really excellent, and she tried to feel him out on that. He just wasn't interested, and she said it was a perfectly valid tack to take. Everybody's different, I guess, when I comes to that."

"Well," Bob said, "lets just play it by ear then, if you're sure you want to take the chance."

"Yes. I am."

—

"Bob Smythe?" Donald said. "Oh." He paused for a moment to think. "I shouldn't be surprised. I think your instincts might be right on. But Jeana? For some reason I didn't think it'd be people from church. She always seems so...churchy."

"And I don't?"

"No, I didn't mean that."

"But...what do you think about them," I said. "Should we just forget it?"

Donald pondered for a few moments. I wondered if he was thinking about Bob, or Jeana.

"You really think there might be something there?" he said. "I mean, Bob doesn't surprise me. I should't tell you this, but I've heard rumors about him."

I suddenly felt like I'd been turned inside out. Rumors? Was I a 'mystery woman' who was being talked about? Was Bob a serial philanderer? The second option wasn't good, and the first one was horrible.

"We should just forget it," I said, hoping my voice wasn't quivering from nerves.

"No, I...kind of like the idea," Donald said. "Is that awful? I mean, it's a woman from church. Should I...want to?"

"Are you wondering if I would mind? Because...I don't," I said. "I should mind, because if anything about this ever got out...what were you saying about rumors? Maybe I should know what you heard."

"No, it's just...you know, guy talk. I'm sure you girls do it, too. I don't want to say anything more because I'm not comfortable repeating things that I don't know to be true. I like Bob. Always have. You must, too, or you wouldn't have suggested the two of them. What exactly did Jeana say?"

I felt all inside out again. "Oh. No...it's not like that. It's just...a hunch, I guess you could say. They've got a boat, and I thought maybe, if the four of us were alone on it, in our swimsuits..."

Donald smiled. "Margaret, it's not that easy, is it? I mean it'd be fun if it was, but..."

"I got us invited. On the boat. I've heard rumors, too, about Jeana. I guess she likes showing herself off in her little bikinis."

"Really? Jeana?"

"Yeah, at cocktail parties and places where there's people. I guess she's kind of a hottie out of her church clothes."

"Wow. I'm not disliking that mental picture."

"So that means I need a bikini. For the boat. Think I'd look okay in one?"

"Absolutely," Donald said. "And I'd be willing to bet Bob will think so, too."

"I'm starting to really wish I'd stuck with that diet last year. So...what's our decision? Are we doing this?"

"Spending some time in bathing suits with the Smythes? Yeah. Even if that's all it is it'll be fun, right? They seem like a fun couple. I wouldn't count on anything more than that, though."

"Yeah, maybe," I said. "Okay, I'll set it up."

—

I called Bob on his cell phone and he didn't answer. Half an hour later he called me back. Saturday looked to be the best day for our get-together. He'd already run it by Jeana, telling her he and Donald had come up with the idea for an outing on the boat. She thought it sounded like fun, a chance to get to know me and Donald a little better. Jeana called me the next day to ask about food and drink preferences and to tell me a little about the boat. She said we should come prepared for lots of sun, and some swimming if we wanted.

I made a trip to the shopping mall to buy a bikini. Before I went I typed 'middle age bikini' into google and I looked at pictures. I was surprised to see most women, even plus sized girls and women, wearing low-rise bottoms. I had planned on buying a high-waisted two piece with a bottom that covered quite a bit, but all those happy looking people on google changed my mind.

I ended up buying a much racier number than I had planned. Bob had clued me in that Jeanna "doesn't mess around" when it comes to bikinis, so I threw caution to the wind. The whole point of the day was to hopefully end up naked with Bob's big cock inside me again, so wearing something sexy seemed, well, prudent.

It's a cute little swimsuit, and I got it on sale. A nice medium blue, the color of the sky on a perfect day, with bra panels that cover me, but, oh my gosh there's a lot of cleavage. And a pretty good helping of 'side boob.' That's what everybody calls it these days, from what I've heard. I've never owned a garment that shows any side boob, so it's all new to me. The straps are thin and, well, I've never worn anything so naked on the back, either. The closure is in the front — a jewel encrusted clasp that looks pretty.

The bottom piece isn't as tiny as some of those string bikinis some girls wear, but it's way down below my bellybutton and it shows off my behind the way a pair of panties would. A sexy pair of panties. All in all I liked it, but oh my gosh, I decided right there in the dressing room at the store that I'll be hitting my diet again. Hard.

I spoke to Bob one more time on my cell phone, from my office at the church. He called me. Wanted to suggest I should try and get something topless going, when Jeana and I were sunning on the boat. Me! Suddenly I'm the linchpin! I told him it was doubtful. He said he'd see what he could do to stir the pot. The whole endeavor was starting to seem ridiculous and I was starting to think nothing could come of the day but embarrassment.

—

Bob got one thing right — Saturday was one of the hottest, summeriest days of the whole season. The air conditioning wasn't working in our car and I was sorely tempted to show up at the marina wearing nothing but my bikini, but I didn't. I'm still a church secretary, after all, and there were lots of people milling about.

Jeana was already sporting her little suit. She looked slimmer than she does in her church clothes, and with her big bronze-tinted sunglasses on she had the aura of a trophy wife, something I hadn't thought of before. Hers was a true bikini bikini, cut for a sexy teenager but not looking out of place on her nice body. The wild, bold leopard print fabric was a soft-looking velvet. She looked plenty hot, and not the sweaty kind.

"Welcome!" she said. "We're so glad you guys can spend the day with us!"

"Hi, Jeana," Donald said. His face was dripping with rivulets of sweat. I wasn't sure if it was the heat that had gotten to him, or the nervous anticipation caused by my crazy idea for some fourway sex. "Wow, this is a nice boat!" he said.

"It's an old Matthews. Bob'll tell you all about it. Hi Margaret! Oh my gosh, this is fun! I've always wished we could spend more time with you guys. Church is so...stuffy, don't you think?"

I smiled. "I do," I said. "They don't allow bikinis there."

"Welcome welcome!" Bob said, emerging from inside the boat's cabin. "Sorry, I was just taking care of a glitch in the head. Damn marine toilets are a son of a bitch."

"Bob!" Jeana said. "Nice way to greet out church friends."

"Sorry," Bob said, reaching for me for a hug. "How are you, Margaret?"

"Good, Bob. I like your boat."

"Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten you guys haven't seen it. Hi Donald. It's nice to see you without a suit and tie."

"He looks so good in them," Jeana said, eyeing his much more casual clothes with approval.

Donald and Bob shook hands. I don't know why it struck me as odd.

"Shall we get this show on the road?" Bob asked. "Wanna come up top with me, Don? Jeana handles the dock lines."

Donald followed Bob up the gleaming chrome ladder to the flying bridge. The engines started and idled for a few minutes. Jeana took me inside and showed me the little bedroom at the front of the boat, where I could get out of my street clothes. I'd seen it before, of course, and I was glad it wasn't the one with the two bigger beds, where I'd been so thoroughly fucked by Bob and Jim and Harvey. Jeana disappeared and I heard the sound of the engines change a little, and I felt movement. It was all so familiar. Spookily so.