Visit With An Old Friend

I had recently moved to Denver with my husband after he got a job as a systems manager at the new Denver airport. Matt and I had been married for just over three years and, frankly, I must say that our marriage had lost much of the luster it had at its start. Matt always was, and still is, a very decent guy and he's a good provider. Though I do my share by teaching modern dance and ballet classes at a dance academy. I had hoped to become a professional dancer myself, but that didn't work out.

The problem was that Matt just didn't seem to pay the kind of attention to me I needed. Sometimes I felt as though he hardly had a sense that I was even there, with him, sharing his bed, trying to have a life together. A woman needs to be appreciated. She wants her husband to acknowledge her, to talk to her, to be aware of her presence. All this my husband has been showing less and less inclination and willingness to do.

And where all this was now most striking was, as one might imagine, in the sex department. I can't say that I married Matt because he was the most sexually exciting of men, or the most ardent lover. I had enjoyed many men prior to him and many of those men were rather more sexually responsive and attractive than Matt was, even at the height of our courtship. I had always been a rather sexual, easily aroused woman, and several of my girlfriends told me I was making a mistake marrying Matt. When I had confessed to them that his sexual temperament was much more tepid than my own, they wagged their fingers at me scoldingly, predicting that such a difference, such an incompatibility, would lead to certain trouble in the future.

And by this point in time, three years into my marriage, I had to acknowledge that they were probably correct. One marries a man for much more than sex, of course. But sex is and should be a pivotal part of a marriage, especially in its early years. The fact that Matt wasn't the greatest of lovers was not the issue. He was satisfactory enough, and I am a sensually imaginative enough woman that I was able to fashion a sexually satisfying relationship with Matt at first.

But pretty soon his interest in sex, and in any kind of physical intimacy had waned. Even when I leaned over to give him a wifely kiss he seemed to be reluctant. And in the bedroom there began to be real tension as my needs began to exceed his own, and he and I both were clearly aware of this discrepancy. This made it awkward being with him. Luckily a horny young woman always has her fingers to help her out, so I was able to relieve much of my often overpowering sexual tension. But sex is not just about release. It is about two people, equally aroused by each other, coming together in a deeply felt physical and emotional rapport. For me, with my intensely sexual nature, the lack of physical rapport was particularly irksome.

And then about a year ago things took an even sharper turn for the worse. Matt stopped fucking me altogether. Even when I tried to coax him into arousal by bringing my mouth down to his cock and trying to suck him to hardness I usually failed. Sometimes he would ejaculate limply into my mouth and then turn over and fall asleep. More often he would push me away when I even began to approach him intimately.

Just this morning I tried again. It was Sunday and I knew Matt didn't have to rush to work. Matt had a very demanding job and at first I attributed his flagging interest in sex to the intensity of his job at the airport. This often happens to men when their workload becomes stressful or excessively demanding. But I knew that other men managed to attend to their wives, despite the demands of their jobs or professions.

We had gone to sleep early and I knew he had gotten a full eight hours, something Matt is rarely able to get these days.

And so I leaned over to him as he was waking and kissed him on the lips. Then I slid my hand slowly down his chest and over his stomach to his flaccid cock.

"What are you doing?" he drawled sleepily.

"I'm just touching you," I said.

"Don't," he said, placing his hand on mine and removing it from his cock.

"Why, honey? You used to like it when I played with you down there right after we woke up," I said.

"I just don't feel like it, that's all," he said tensely.

"You never feel like it!" I said, pulling away harshly, unable to hide my frustration and anger.

He turned away from me.

"It's like I'm married to a monk. What's the matter with you anyway? You used to be turned on by me, or so you said?"

As usual when our conversation took this turn, as more and more often it did in recent months, Matt's response was silence and avoidance. And that's what he did now, getting up out of bed and going to the kitchen to find his precious newspaper.

I bolted out of bed after him.

"At least talk to me!" I demanded. "Tell me what's the matter? Maybe we can do something about it."

"Listen, I've told you," he said. "I just don't feel like it today."

"Today! Today! Younever feel like it. I don't know how long I can go on like this," I pleaded.

"Do what you have to do," he said dismissively.

He didn't even care! I think that's what irked me most of all. At twenty-four I was still a young woman, a young wife, and I didn't feel that this kind of sexual cold shoulder from my husband was acceptable. I had tried to talk to Matt about it but that approach had failed. What was I going to do now? I had vowed that when I got married I would remain faithful to my husband. I had seen, in my family and friends, the path to infidelity lead to many troubles. But I wasn't about to close myself up in a mental convent. I was a red-blooded American woman with a healthy libido and I wasn't about to shut it down just because my husband had shut his down. That was my dilemma. And my burden.

I tried to focus my mind on other things. I took on more classes at the dance school. I cultivated new friendships and new interests. I took some classes at the University and thought about getting an advanced degree. And I renewed my friendship with my old college roommate, who was originally from Denver, and who had moved back to her hometown after graduating from college. I had been delighted to learn she still lived here.

I had seen Tina a few times since I had moved to Denver, but we both had been quite busy and finally we were going to spend a leisurely evening together. She invited me to have dinner at her place with her, and her girlfriend Marge. Now when I say her ‘girlfriend' Marge, I have to explain what I mean.

Tina and I had gone to a women's college back East where I quickly learned that Tina was not like all the other girls I had known until then. And so when I heard she was living with a woman named Marge I immediately thought back to my first introduction to Tina back on campus eight years ago.

The day I moved into my freshman dorm, Tina, assigned to be my roommate, nonchalantly informed me that she was a lesbian. I can't say that I was shocked, or even surprised, to hear her tell me this. When you go to an all-women's college you have to be prepared for that. My girlfriends in high school had kidded me once they found out I'd be going to this well-known women's college that I had better practice up on my muffdiving. It was just teasing in good fun. But I had always viewed myself as a very tolerant person and I was somewhat of a feminist too. So I had no problem at all with having a gay roommate.

Tina never once pressured me or insisted that I, like all women who claimed to be straight, had ‘latent' gay sensibilities. This was the gospel I heard often from more militantly gay women on campus who had difficulty accepting that any woman was straight. They insisted that, deep down,all seemingly ‘straight' women harbored a latent and very real homosexuality.

Nor did Tina ever urge me to at least try bi sex, or anything like that. So in spite of our different sexual orientations we became really close as roommates and as friends, freely confiding in each other about all our feelings and concerns and problems.

And even though Tina hung out with a primarily lesbian crowd on our all-female campus I was never excluded. In fact I was often the one straight woman hanging out with a bunch of gays. Some of them would tease me and ask me when I was going to join their ‘club,' and I used to tease them back and vividly describe the cock of the guy who had fucked me the previous night as they turned up their noses in exaggerated disgust. But all of this was in good fun.

Now Tina was living with her lover, Marge. In the few weeks I had been in Denver Tina and I had once again become very close, reigniting the trust and intimacy we had always felt with one another in college. I had met her lover Marge once when the three of us went out, but this would be the first time I'd be visiting them over at their place.

We were just finishing up having dinner and had polished off a bottle of an excellent Burgundy. Tina was in a frisky mood as was I, partly as a result of all the vino we were consuming, and pretty soon Tina and I were gossiping and filling each other in on the sex lives of our old friends from college. Marge listened avidly as Tina and I offered up gossipy tidbits to each other. Marge had grown up on a ranch in Wyoming, and dropped out of high school, so the hi-jinx of New England college students were quite exotic to her.

"It's amazing how many of them are gay, isn't it?" I said, remarking on the girls who lived in our old dorm.

"See what I mean, Becky?" Tina said. "There must be something to it, huh? You were always so adamant about how you had chosen the straight and narrow path. Have you ever strayed from that path?"

"No I haven't," I said truthfully.

"Not even once? Not even just to try it and see what it was like?" Marge asked, evidently finding it hard to believe that another woman could resist at least once tasting of the forbidden fruit of Lesbos.

"Not even once," I reaffirmed. "See, Marge," Tina said, turning to her lover. "I told you."

"Well," Marge persisted. "Once in your life you should at least try it. Who knows? You might like it."

Marge was evidently one of those who believed it was unnatural to fail to address what she felt was a natural and inevitable inclination to have a latent attraction to the same sex.

"Leave her alone, Marge, Becky's a married woman," Tina said, sipping from her wine glass.

"So I heard," Marge said. "Though I understand the marital bed hasn't been exactly thrilling as of late."

"Marge!" Tina admonished.

"It's okay," I said, drinking some more wine. I had confessed to Tina that sex with my husband had taken a turn for the worse recently and I expected she would share this detail with her lover.

"Actually, didn't you ever just think about it, just a little?" Tina asked with a sly smile, evidently emboldened by Marge's more brazen probing.

She poured me another glass of wine.

"Sure I've thought about it now and then, and I used to think about it back in college too. I even told you that then," I said. "But it just isn't in my nature. I just happen to be straight. Just the way you two happen to be gay."

Marge shook her head skeptically, smiling at me wryly. I knew that expression. Confirmed lesbians, I had found, find it impossible to believe that any woman could be devoid of urges, or at least curiosity, regarding girl-girl sex.

"Did you ever watch two women make it?" Marge now asked. "Did Tina ever let you stay and watch her go down on one of her girlfriends when you two were back in school? You know, Tina can be quite the sex freak, she just loves to show off her enthusiasm sometimes."

Tina blushed, slapping her lover playfully.

"No, Tina was a bit more shy back then. And I never did watch her, or any other girl or woman have sex, for that matter," I said.

"Well perhaps you'd like to watch us tonight?" Marge said, looking at me with a clear, determined gaze.

"Marge!" Tina said, blushing slightly.

I was speechless.

"Well, would you?" Marge persisted.

"Wait a minute, you're actually suggesting that I watch the two of you get it on?" I said to Marge, stunned.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Marge said.

"Well what about Tina, how'd she feel about that?"

Tina lowered her eyes a little nervously, not saying anything.

"Oh Tina'll love it," Marge said boldly. "We even talked about it a little before you came over, how maybe we'd have you as an appreciative audience for a round of our lovemaking before the evening was over."

"Marge, you're incorrigible!" Tina said, feigning protest.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just feeling horny. Or maybe it was the frustration I was feeling about the virtually nonexistent sex life I had with my husband. But all I knew was that Marge's suggestion that I watch her and Tina make love suddenly seemed very provocative and appealing to me.

"Sure, I'll watch you two sluts get it on," I said, stunned at my own audacity. "Why the hell not!"

Bringing wine glasses to our lips, the three of us laughed lustily.

Marge stood up and took my hand, leading me to their bedroom, with Tina following. My heart was racing as I realized that the intimacy of my friendship with Tina was about to take a new turn. Back in college there had been more than one opportunity for me to remain in our room when Tina was about to make it with one of her many lovers. But though I had been a touch curious once or twice, discretion always won out, and I'd tip-toe out of the room when I sensed that the erotic tempo was about to pick up. Tina was always very sexual and often invited other women to her room for long, often all-night, rounds of very lively lovemaking. So I found myself tip-toeing out discreetly on quite a few occasions.

Now, finally, after all these years, it appeared as though I was finally going to get to witness what I could easily have witnessed back then, but chose not to.

Tina and Marge began to undress each other while I sat back in a chair and watched, a tad apprehensive about what I was about to get into with the two of them here. But the apprehension was easily outweighed by anticipation and excited curiosity

Tina reached over and unzipped Marge's jeans, pulling them down over Marge's smooth, muscular thighs. Then she slowly removed one sock at a time, revealing Marge's pretty, shapely feet, all the while staring over at me while she was doing this. Tina had a rapt, aroused glint in her eyes as she eyed me while undressing her girlfriend. Marge, too, looked my way, a rather carnal, almost lewd, gleam in her eye. Her jeans now off, I could see Marge was wearing a pair of plain white cotton briefs, cut low at the waist so that much of her taut, athletic stomach was revealed. Now Marge herself unbuttoned her denim shirt and flung it aside. As I already knew, she was wearing no bra. Earlier I had noticed the clear, sharp outline of Marge's nipple even under the thick cloth of her sweatshirt.

Marge was a tall, willowy blonde of Norwegian extraction with sun-bleached hair and pale blue eyes. She was very fit and had an exceptionally well-toned body, with a slender waist, narrow hips, big shoulders and, as I could see now, very modest breasts topped by stiff, perky nipples.

Now, clad only in her panties, Marge began to help Tina undress. She got behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Tina and I had been roommates so, naturally, I had seen her naked many times and was familiar with the details of her body. Like Marge, Tina wore no bra. But unlike her she had big breasts and they were still as firm and springy as they had been in college where I had last laid my eyes on them four years ago. The two of them turned towards me, holding hands, asking me with that look in their eyes to luxuriate in this panorama of their two lovely and nearly naked bodies. They were quite a contrast, Marge the big blonde, and Tina the petite brunette. Everyone always thought Tina had a fabulous body, a body which had grown no less fabulous over the four years since I had last laid eyes on it.

"Like what you see?" Marge cooed sexily.

"It's a pretty enough sight," I said.

Now they began to pull down their panties and of course my eyes couldn't help riveting on what was now revealed. I should have been alerted by Marge's thick blonde eyebrows. For now I could see that Marge, like myself, had a thick and luxuriant bush of golden curls covering her pubic `V'.

Fully naked now, they stood proudly before me, again holding hands. I couldn't believe I was about to watch the two of them make love!

Now Marge gently pushed Tina down on the bed, falling alongside her. They began to caress each other, cuddling and hugging, their mouths opening in a breathy, passionate kiss, eyes darting in my direction. I was so overwhelmed and mesmerized by the sight of their intimacy that I couldn't even blink. They moaned softly as their hands traveled tenderly, intimately over the familiar contours of each others' bodies. Then Marge glanced over at me and smiled.

"Look!" she said to Tina, who turned towards me. "Becky's got her hand between her legs!"

It's true, I did. And I hadn't even realized it. As I was watching them, I had unconsciously slid my hand over the denim of my jeans to the region of my crotch. I could feel myself quickly becoming warm and moist down below.

"Don't sit way over there," Tina said. "Why don't you at least come up on the bed and join us?"

I hesitated a moment. Watching them from where I was sitting was one thing, joining them on the bed was a very definite step in a much more intimate direction. But I did join them. And with very little hesitation too. In fact, by this point I absolutely longed to be right by their sides as they began to make love!

At first I sat down next to them rather nervously. It felt strange to be so close to their naked bodies as they continued to caress one another. Though I was having my troubles in the sex department with Matt, I had always been faithful and never once seriously considered cheating on him during the three years of our marriage. Of course getting on the bed right next to two naked women who were about to have sex wasn't what you could really call `cheating,' but, nonetheless, it was heading into awkward territory.

Now, looking straight into my eyes, Marge lowered her face to one of Tina's breasts and started sucking on a nipple, a nipple which had quickly become erect with excitement.

"Maybe you'd like to suck the other one, huh Becky?" Marge said softly, turning to me.

"I don't think so," I said with a little nervous laugh. "You're forgetting I'm a married woman."

"Yeah, but... so what," Marge said, mesmerizing me with her searing, insistent gaze. "It's not like you'd be doing something with another man, is it? It's not really cheating. C'mon, won't you? I'd really like to see you do that. To kiss and lick and suck on Tina's nipple, and I'm sure Tina would love to feel your lips on her sensitive breasts."

"Oh I don't know. I've just never ever done that kind of thing. I mean not only haven't I ever done it with -- uh -- a woman. But, like I've been saying, I've never cheated on Matt. I don't know if I should start now."

"Well, from everything Tina's been saying to me it sure sounds like you'll be doing that sooner or later. Either, that or you're just going to remain very frustrated. I's sure you've thought about all that. C'mon. Here's your chance. You can really break some serious ice tonight."

"Yeah," Tina purred, looking at me with a softer gaze. "I'd really like it. I'd really like to feel your lips on my nipple. I wanted that back then, and I want it now."

I realized that they had effectively seduced me. Here I was on their bed with them, being asked to bring my lips down to one of their breasts. And the truth of it was that I felt absolutely desperate to do just what they asked. And so I took a deep breath... and succumbed to their seductive entreaties. Succumbed to their electric, feminine allure... succumbed to the temptations of infidelity....