The
Heat from Catmandou
After a year of our lifestyle, I'm still not sure whether
"open marriage"
is the right term. When Bill first encouraged me
to date others,
I found the idea appalling, but now I love this
arrangement.
Bill hasn't shown any interest in involvement with
another woman,
so this has been a one-sided affair. What Bill
gets out of
these dates are the thrills of my telling about my
extramarial
experiences. I agreed to whatever adventures Bill
might dream
up as long as these were no threat to our marriage.
So a month after our vacation at the Five Roses ranch, we
drove in separate
cars to Catmandou, a live-entertainment club. I
was wearing
four-inch heels and a red satiny oriental dress,
baring my back
to just below the waist and slit to the thigh. I
found a table
in a dimly lit corner. The place was decorated with
nostalgia gimmicks
no one would want in their home but somehow
looked just
right in the lounge. I gazed around the crowd and
listened to
the three-piece band's soft music.
Minutes later, Bill walked in, sat at the bar and ordered a
wine cooler.
He acknowledged me with a smile, then turned away.
He glanced back
now and then as several men eyed me, clearly with
sexual intentions.
When I wear heels, some men under 6 feet avoid making passes
at me because
of my 5'8" height. This was the problem this night
until a tall
attractive man, his hair black as my own, noticed
Bill glancing
toward me from the bar. Attired in a dark blue
blazer, white
polo shirt, and white tropical slacks, he turned as
I smiled quietly
at Bill, not the stranger; but the man lifted
his drink, sauntered
over to my table, and grinned, "With
anyone?"
I responded, "I am now, I suppose," smiling as I appraised
his blue eyes
and lean physique. I aged him at 28. He was wearing
a white gold
wedding ring like mine, but I pretended not to
notice, and
so did he.
He squinted at me through the dimness and, with a look of
surprise, remarked,
"I haven't seen anyone with gray eyes in
years!"
I smiled, "An inherited trait." I hear that a lot; there
aren't many
of us. When gray-eyed people see each other, they
silently smile
in acknowledgement, just as I've been told a young
person with
prematurely gray hair returns a smile to another.
He gave me his name, Phil, but his occupation gave me a
start; he was
a new attorney with the law firm that set up Bill's
corporation
and was now advising Bill's office manager, Steve,
who runs the
business side of Bill's engineering practice. We
engaged in small
talk, complimenting the other until he finally
asked me to
dance.
On the dance floor, he held me closely. Men from around the
room looked
disappointed that they hadn't asked me first. The
touch of his
cheek brushing mine, as Bill watched, excited me. By
the middle of
the second song, he was gently pressing his groin
against mine.
I was fighting to control my gasps as I felt his
firmness growing
beneath his slacks. My face burned at his openly
sexual gesture,
but soon in excitation, I was brushing my mound
against his
hardness. I could feel my nipples tingling against
the satin of
my dress. He whispered, "Do you have plans tonight?"
"Don't you have to go home?" I queried, my voice trembling
as I remembered
his wedding ring.
"My wife's a pharmaceutical sales rep," he said softly.
"She's in Chicago
until Tuesday at her company's headquarters
gathering."
He'd remembered my own ring and had no reason to lie.
I allowed him to press me closer. His skin radiated a heat
like my own.
The female singer's long, slow melody of adulterous
longing seemed
dedicated to our entertwined bodies. When it
ended, I realized
Bill and I hadn't planned this very well. I
lied, "My husband's
at a convention. I have no plans, Phil." We
bantered about
a bit as I tried to think of what to do until
finally he came
right out with it, "Can we spend the night at
your place?"
His swollen cock was now massaging my clitoris.
I was breathing heavily, my eyes wild. My throat throbbed
fearfully, choked
with increasing desire, as I breathed, "I'd
like to visit
the ladies' room."
He nodded, saying, "I'll meet you back here in a couple of
minutes."
When he walked through the crowd to the cashier's desk in
another room,
I strode quickly to Bill, explaining the situation.
As usual, Bill
was wonderful; he grinned, "Great. I'll drive over
to the office
and sleep on the couch. If I come home about five
a.m., will that
be enough time?" I agreed, and Bill returned to
his drink as
I waited at the door for Phil.
We drove in separate cars. The late evening streets were
still wet from
a brief Florida thundershower. The Mercedes'
diesel engine
throbbed like my chest. Although I'd slept with
other men, this
would be my first true "date." The multi-colored
lights of neon
signs, street lamps, and a line of cars streaming
west to the
suburbs cast long brilliant reflections on the wet
highway. I glanced
back now and then at Phil's red Fiero
following closely.
Stopping at a traffic light a block from the lounge, I
stared at a
Cadillac's bumper sticker ahead of me and smiled. The
bumper sticker
read, "Lead Me Not Into Lust, For I Shall Find It
Myself."
We emerged from separate cars into our garage. He murmured,
"My god, I just
noticed the name on the mailbox! I know your
husband, by
name anyway!"
I laughed. "I told you my name at the lounge. You didn't ask
for my husband's.
Don't be so up-tight, Phil!" Actually, I was
more tense than
Phil, not from his association with the law firm
but from the
desire that had grown with each mile I drove home.
Inside, Phil
removed his coat, poured a drink from our bar and
searched out
a diet soda from the refrigerator for me. He walked
upstairs to
meet me in the bedroom.
I'd turned on the stereo and flicked on a table lamp,
bathing the
room in a dim red glow that seemed to accentuate my
inner heat.
I turned, my hands on my hips and legs spread wide on
the carpet as
I faced him. He stared, his manhood bulging beneath
his slacks,
and breathed, "God, you're incredible!"
My breasts heaved as he set the drinks on the nightstand and
took me in his
arms. He unzipped my dress, puddling it onto the
floor, then
unbuttoned his shirt. I trembled, barely able to
stand as he
grinded his hardness against my clitoris. I fell to
my knees and
pulled away his slacks, his nine-inch instrument
bobbing against
my lips as his fingers stroked my neck. I moaned
at his sensuous
touch. I was mesmerized by the dark, purple-
veined cock
that I was now stroking, my hand squeezing it back
and forth from
its black mass of pubic hair to the broad, bulging
head. I oval-ed
my lips over the rubbery head, sucking it slowly
as he groaned,
"Oh god, Ellen, you're terrific, oh god, oh
god..." My tongue
slid along his length as his hips writhed,
pushing it beyond
the back of my throat. The smoothness glided
through me until
I was delerious with passion. I became one with
his cock and
the throaty music drifting from the stereo. I flamed
with desire,
my eyes wildly rolling up at him as I whimpered with
each stroke
into the fullness of my quivering lips.
He leaned to cup my breasts, then kneeled behind me as his
strong hands
kneaded the softness of my breasts.
I fell against his hands until my arms braced against the
floor. I shuddered
as his warm cock brushed my flaming vagina
from the rear.
I muttered, my voice quaking, "I'm on fire, Phil.
I'm yours!"
My hips gyrated, tremoring as his lengthy hardness
entered my lubricated
channel. My vaginal walls stretched with
each thrilling
inch to accommodate him. And then he had sheathed
the tool to
its hilt as my mouth opened widely, my eyes rolling
with the adulterous
passion that gripped my searing soul. His
long shaft radiated,
steaming in the hot coals of my cunt.
Wailing as he fucked me wildly, I swirled my hips to his
rhythm. I turned
my head to watch as his hips bumped against my
buttocks, further
inflaming my passion. Each entry throbbed
against my clitoris
until, deep within, I could feel the
thunderous waters
of an orgasmic flood rushing up to burst
through me.
I began to cry, tears streaking down my cheeks. His
blue eyes glinted.
He was biting his lip in excitation when I
felt his cock
swelling. He was about to come with me. He groaned
passionately.
Our eyes locked. As his cock expanded within me I
spread my legs
further as if I could somehow allow my vagina to
hold even more.
I was biting the softness of my lower lip as I
cried, "It's
super, Phil! Super! I LOVE it!" I reached behind to
touch his chest
as his cock fucked into my hot, wet depths, which
were now a vortex
of mega-lust that gripped the broad cock-head
sliding through
my love tunnel.
He increased his tempo. The building orgasm was still
distant but
now rushing up like a mad prehistoric beast screaming
for air from
primeval depths of a misty cavern. The earth opened
before me. I
was falling through a bottomless chasm of adulterous
pleasure with
his every thrust, my mind enveloping an unknown
universe inhabited
by only me and Phil. I shuddered. The beast
within was insane
with pleasure. My whoring had now spanned eons,
all sense of
time lost as I cried out frightfully. I was praying
for the oncoming
super-orgasm but fearing I could no longer bear
the passionate
explosion.
And then, OH GOD! It rolled over us like a landslide! My
mind and body
exploded with staggering force! Gigantic stars
crashed as I
screamed in ecstasy, feeling his warm sperm
splattering
through my channel. The planet was quaking beneath me
as I sobbed
in release from the bondage of this adulterous love.
Crying, I collapsed,
tremoring beneath the white heat of his
body.
Later, in the afterglow, we drank wine, watching erotic
movies on our
large-screen VCR from our bed until, finally, he
mounted me again,
missionary position, fucking me slowly. I
screamed with
a second, then third, then fourth orgasm, until he
came, shuddering
atop me. Dazed, I muttered, "I love you," and
meaning it at
that moment of gratitude. When he replied, "That's
nice," because
Phil couldn't lie, I laughed and hit him softly
with my fist.
He left at three a.m. I dialed Bill's office. When Bill was
in bed beside
me a half hour later, I described Phil's fucking me
just as I'm
telling you here, until Bill's manhood had risen and
was eagerly
entering my vagina. At times like these, I almost
feel a control
over him. I moaned, muttering my feelings of
passionately
fucking Phil as Bill thrust into me. I could feel
his tool expand
to awesome proportions, until finally, reliving
my adultery,
I came again; Bill groaned, his sperm splattering
warmly into
my vagina. We lay side by side facing each other as I
answered his
questions about my feelings when fucking other men.
I admitted,
"You lead me into these situations, but once I'm
united with
another, I can think only of him and me. Sometimes I
forget I'm married."
When his eyebrows arched, I smiled, "But I
still love you."
Exhausted, I fell asleep. When I awoke with the sunrise,
Bill was still
looking down at me, grinning in approval.
A month later, my former career as a photographer's model
would develop
into into another kind of picture...
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