Message-ID: <12555eli$9806281231@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/12555.txt> From: tonytony3@juno.com (anthony anthony) Subject: tonytony3’s Myrtle Beach Vacation 1/2(mf, mmf) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <19980627.062221.9415.0.tonytony3@juno.com> tonytony3’s Myrtle Beach Vacation 1/2(mf, mmf) The kids were away at school. Dotty had just finished an assertiveness training seminar sponsored by her company. That, her boss assured her, would lead to a group manager’s job. Almost as good was the news that my publisher accepted the proposal for my latest novel. Life was good. We decided to spend some of my advance and celebrate with a long weekend at the Hilton Resort at Myrtle Beach: we’d play golf, see some shows, and have some quality time together. It was a suitable reward for getting things right. Even though it was raining, it only took a half hour to drive to the hotel from the airport. We drove by one kind of entertainment opportunity after another. The Carolina Opery, The Palace, Broadway at the Beach, The Crazy Horse Saloon: it went on and on. Rain or not, we wouldn’t be bored. We checked into our suite early. We were sitting in the lounge by noon, talking, and planning the rest of the three days we were taking. The rain was enough to make us abandon our afternoon tee time, although we did see that Arcadian Shores, the golf course associated with the hotel, was getting a lot of play. Golfers are nuts, we decided. Ordinary people, and even farm animals, know enough to come out of the rain. . But this lounge, with its view of both the course and the ocean, was nice, and intimate. It was a different environment for us. We’d passed some milestones recently, and we were reluctant to break the mood. We talked about our kids, our marriage, and us. Then, the conversation took an odd turn. “Bob, I‘ve always been confident of you and our marriage,” Dotty said. “Me too, Dotty.” “I’ve wondered, though, have you ever screwed around?” Where’d that come from? There was no warning. If we were on the golf course, she should have shouted “Fore”. In other circumstances there’d have been other warnings. I didn’t hear “Track!”, or “Fire in the hole!”. No “Incoming”, not “Clear!”, or “Jibe Ho!”, either. There was no warning at ALL! My mouth, I realized, was open. I closed it. “Uh, where did that come from? Why do you ask - have you?” That was a reflexive, and defensive, response. I hate not being upfront, and before the statement was out of my mouth I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. “It comes from assertiveness training, Bob. And as for me screwing around, no, not really, but you haven’t answered. What about you?” “Same answer as yours, honey. Not really, but almost.” “So, we each have had ‘almosts.’” “I guess so”, I allowed. “Confession is good for the soul. We have nothing to do the rest of today. Let’s stay here for a while,” she said. “I’d like to know what happened to you. Tell me about it.” Well, it was too wet for outdoor stuff, and maybe I’d learn something new about my wife, too. “OK, with a couple of conditions,” I said. “We gotta agree we’ve got a solid marriage, and there’s no back-lash, OK?” “Sure,” she said, with a gleam in her eye. She extended her hand. “It’s a deal! Now talk, buster. Tell me how you ‘almost’ screwed around.” Our hands joined - but I resisted the handshake. “And you have to tell me about your ‘almost’, too.” She initiated the handshake. We had a deal. “You first, though” she demanded/requested. “All right. It happened a couple of years ago.” “Mine, too.” I’ll remember that. “It was two years ago, in the hotel lounge there at LAX. Remember when I was there selling that screen play?” “Yeah - I also remember a horny husband who came home from that trip!” “That’s the trip. You already know I did most of the negotiations with Betty?” “Yes - but you sold it to the company she and her brother represented. - it was her?” “Not quite. Anyhow, we were in the lounge after we signed off on the thing. Remember that nice check I brought home? Well, her husband was supposed to meet us there, we’d celebrate, I’d kill a couple of hours and come home on the red eye.” “I remember the check.” “What happened was we were sitting side by side having a drink when her husband came and sat beside her. He congratulated us on getting a hard deal done. We shook hands, he ordered a round of drinks, and he sat beside his wife. “She had been sitting close to me before he got there - I could feel her leg along mine, but hell, we were waiting for her husband - I didn’t think anything of it, and enjoyed the contact. I was away from you for most of a week, damn it.” “You don’t have to make excuses, honey - all is forgiven. But damn it, tell me what happened!” I wasn’t at all sure what had gotten into my usually diffident wife. She moved from the chair facing me to the bench seat beside me, and I could feel pressure from her leg, too. “What’s happening here?” I asked. “Partly, it’s that damned management training program - we’ve been talking about assertiveness, not being afraid to do what you want.. One part of the training’s homework is to do something very assertive, almost outrageous, sometime when there's an opportunuty, just to see what it feels like. I don’t want to talk about that any more. I want to talk about this! Was she sitting like this?” Talk about assertive! “Yeah.” Dotty had a funny expression on her face. “Show me what happened.” The waiter responded to her wave and brought a couple more drinks. “We’re drinking too much!” “No excuses - keep talking!” “Sit closer.” She moved closer. “Put your hand in your lap under the table.” She did. “I could tell there was something going on between Betty and her husband. His hand was under the table, and she was fidgeting around. Anyhow, after a couple of drinks, I felt her hand on my leg - yes, just like that. After a while she moved it and just stroked at my thigh. Yeah, like that.” “Did you get a hard-on?” “Just like the one you’re causing.” “What happened next?” “I put my hand under the table, too, and covered hers, and stopped her from moving it higher. I thought she was going to touch my crotch!” I demonstrated, holding her hand, too, because it was also meandering crotchward. “I’m glad you stopped her. But her husband was sitting right there!” “I know. She took my wrist, and put my hand on HER knee. Her skirt was pulled up enough so my hand was right on panty hose. Like this,” I took her hand, moved both hers and mine to her knee, and finger walked her skirt higher so I was really touching her nylon clad leg. Dotty looked at me, eyes wide, mouth a little open, her tongue moistening her lips. She was really into this. I continued. “I looked at Betty - they were both looking at me, and smiling. Her husband leaned over and kissed her. I tried to pull my hand away but she was holding it really tight on her leg . I could feel her kind of twitching, and I realized he was probably touching her other leg. Then, he reached a little more, and grabbed at my hand, and hers. I could feel his fingers, and they felt wet! “He looked at me and said ’We’d like to book a room here and celebrate, like this,’ and he took my wrist, and both of them moved my hand up her leg, like this.” I demonstrated, sliding my hand along her inner thigh. Dotty’s eyes dilated, there was a sharp intake of breath, as my hand actually touched her crotch. I didn’t understand her reaction, I’d touched her there a million times before, but never in a hotel lounge. But, damn it, it was exciting me, too. “What happened?” she whispered. “ I didn’t know what to do. I found out she wasn’t wearing panty hose, but just stockings and a garter belt, and she wasn’t wearing anything else under there either, and her knees were wide apart.” “What happened?” “Honey, when I touched skin and her pubic hair I realized her husband was touching her there - right here”- I demonstrated by pressing into her crotch with my hand - “I pulled my hand away. I told them I appreciated the offer, but I was married and didn’t want to screw that up.” “What happened?” “I left, and waited at the gate for my flight, and took the red eye home, and screwed you for hours. I never saw them again”. “That explains why you were so horny. Honey, any regrets?” “Sometimes I do wonder what it would have been like if I took them up on their offer: she was very pretty, and I never was in a threesome. . .” “MMmm.” “Well, Dotty, that’s as close as I ever got. It’s your turn.” “I don’t want to talk about that here. Let’s go to our room.” It took just a minute to close out our tab, and have the barman get room service to take a bottle of Asti to our room. It was beginning to look like we’d be staying on the hotel grounds all day! We went up with the room service guy, signed off on the wine, and went into the suite. We had a two room suite: the living room was off the main door. That was separated from the bedroom by a bathroom and small kitchenette. The bedroom , with two queen sized beds, opened onto a balcony that overlooked the ocean. Dotty sat on the sofa in the living room and motioned me to sit beside her. “Well?” I still wanted to know what happened to her. “Remember the company Christmas party two years ago - the last one I went to, it was the one you didn’t go to?” “Yeah. . .” “Remember Ralph, that 30 year old fast track guy in accounting?” “Yeah.. .” “He was really on a roll that party. Like, he carried around some mistletoe, put it over people’s heads, and kissed them.” “Do you specifically mean, your head?” “Yeah, a bunch of times. Actually, it was nice being chased by a handsome young stud. I liked the attention.“ “Keep going.” “Towards the end of the party he told me he had a bottle of great brandy in his office he wanted to bring to the party, and asked me to go help him get it.” “Help him? You went?” “Sure. It was an office party, I didn’t think anything of it. Yeah, I went. “Anyhow, we went to his office. It was right near mine, and close to the executive waiting room. Everything was closed up, there was no one around. He held my hand and he went into his office. He got the brandy and a couple of glasses, and we started to go through the waiting room. He was still holding my hand, and he pulled me to a stop. He sat on the sofa there and pulled me down, too.” “Oh?” “Yes, he knew what he wanted more than I did. He said we should test the brandy. He poured some, and we drank it. After that he stood up - I started to, too, so we could go back to the party. But he told me to wait a minute. There was a floor lamp that reached over the sofa. That was the night light for the area. It was the only light on. He took some mistletoe out of his pocket, put it on the lamp and smirked. He asked me if I knew what that meant. I told him I thought it meant the mistletoe would catch on fire, so he turned off the light!” “Keep going!” “Well, I liked what was happening. It was fun. But, you really won’t like this part. It was really dark there. He sat beside me, and started kissing me again.” “That’s OK, I guess. You’re a beautiful woman, under mistletoe, you should be kissed.” “Well, honey, I kissed him back.” “Oh. Well, it was Christmas. You should have. Uh, maybe you should show me how you kissed him.” Betty put my arms around her - had me lean towards her - kissed me, open mouth, for a long time. The touch of her tongue on mine was electric, even though it was, for us, common place. “Then he pushed me down. . .” She leaned to the side, and pretty soon we were side by side, she was trapped between me and the sofa back. “He pushed me back, like that - and I could feel that he had a hard on.” “Then what happened?” “He moved his hand like this” she demonstrated, and my hand was between us, caressing her breast. “Did you stop him?” “Not then.” “Oh.” I didn’t realize until then I was getting erect. I was, and my erection got bigger. “What happened next?” “After a while he moved that hand to my leg” - she guided my hand down over her belly to her hip to her dress covered leg - “like that.” “Then?” “He tried to get under my dress, but I stopped him, like this:” Her hand that had been guiding mine grabbed my wrist, and brought it back between us, to her breast.. “You were being good!” “Well, I did kind of like having him touch my breast - you know, they’re very sensitive.” This was my wife talking to me! “What happened then?” “After a while, he took my hand in his, and made me do this. . .” She took my hand, and lead both of our hands to my crotch. “And I kind of let him move my hand so I was stroking him like this for a little while.” My now aching cock felt her fingers moving lightly over my pants, touching, measuring the level of my excitement. “He tried to get under my dress again “, she demonstrated, “and I stopped him again” her hand left my crotch, took my wrist. “He stopped that, so I just hugged and kissed him for a while” she showed me how, kissing lips, moving my head so she could kiss at my ear, my neck, and in turn, turning so that those sensitive parts of her head could be kissed, too. “He put his hands between us” - she moved mine down between us -“but he wasn’t grabbing at me, I didn’t know what he was doing.” “But then, while he was kissing me, he took my hand again, and moved it like this.” It went slowly over my hip, back to my crotch. “He had opened his pants, his cock was sticking out, and he put my hand on it!!!” Betty had slipped her hand into my pants, and was touching mine at the same time she told the story. “What did you do???” “I was, I don’t know, kind of shocked! But, it felt so nice, and so wicked, that for a couple of minutes I just held it and stroked him” - she had my zipper down and my cock out “while we kissed, and he was touching my breast through my dress”. “What happened!!!” “He got his hand into the neckline of that party dress I wore - you know the one with the scoop neckline, and started touching me directly. I let him touch me for a while, but when he tried to get under my dress again I stopped him.” “Dotty, you were touching his naked cock, and he was playing with your tits!” “I know. But then I got up, and ran out, and came home. That’s why I didn’t go to any more company parties.” “That’s some story, honey,” I said, relaxing, but still as horny as I could be. Not bad, I thought, being that horny with a woman I’ve been married to for 18 years. “Yeah. I often wonder, though. . .” “Wonder what?” “Well, what would have happened if I didn’t stop him. He really got me excited!” “I don’t have any doubt at all about what would have happened!” “Honey “ - she kissed me - “show me what you think would have happened.” I kissed her back: “You mean, act it out?” Her hips were making little motions against mine. My wife was completely aroused. “Yeah, act it out. Please. If you do, I’ll act out something for you, too - or do whatever you want.” I’d do nearly anything to please my wife. I got up from the sofa. Got one of the artificial flowers from the vase. “Mistletoe”, I explained. I hooked it on the frame of the picture over the sofa. Got two more glasses of wine, and gave one to my wife. She watched me over the rim of the glass as we both drank. I turned out the light, but the room was still pretty light: it was mid afternoon. “I don’t want the mistletoe to catch on fire”, I said. “That’s good, I don’t think I want us to be interrupted”; was her reply. I kissed her. “This would have happened!” We were kissing, and moving, until once again she was lying, trapped between me and the sofa back. I kissed her, moved my hand to her breast. I felt her hold my hand to her, felt her hips moving against my groin. I moved my hand from her breast, to the buttons on her dress. “But I’m married”, she muttered. I had several buttons undone by then, so now my hand was inside the dress, feeling, touching, her breast through her bra. “It’s Christmas, this happens all the time, and I like doing this with a married woman, and no one will ever know. . .” I said, kissing, touching, getting into the role, and feeling her respond.. I knew her bra unfastened in front. “Help me with your bra.” “I shouldn’t - my husband would kill me” she said, but her hands met at her cleavage, where her dress was unbuttoned, and there was a motion, and her hands and arms were around me again, and my hand found the bra loose. I’ve had sex with this women countless times before, but feeling that bra loose was incredible. I moved my hand so I was touching her, under her breast, then moved it up, lifting her bra over her breast, and then touched her breast, her nipple. It was more exciting than I could have imagined, pretending to be someone seducing my wife. “Your husband will never know I did this” I said, touching her, rolling her nipple between my thumb and finger, pinching her, “unless you tell him.” “My husband wouldn’t want me to do this, and I won’t tell” she said, kissing me as deeply as she could, and not stopping me! I released her breast, let her feel my hand move to her shoulder, down her arm, to her hand. I took her wrist, moved it to my own crotch, to my still opened pants, to my cock. It felt electric when she actually touched me. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, but her hand was softly stroking me, anyhow. I didn’t have to forcibly hold her hand against me. “That feels so nice, baby, and no one will ever know” I said, my own hand went over her hip, down her leg, past her dress’s hem, then up again, under her dress. She moved her upper leg even more over me, spreading her own legs, as my hand traced up her leg, past her vagina emitting its heat and moisture, up higher, to the elastic waistband, and then, gripping that, lower again, until it was pulled down enough for my hand to touch her. She lifted a bit, so that access was easier, and then I was touching her directly, her pubic hair, her vagina’s lips, until my fingers went into her, finding her clit, engorged. “Any man would want to this to you!” I/Ralph said, fingering her, feeling her touching me, and feeling her moving against my fingers. “I’m married. . .” she said, as I pulled a bit, and moved, so that she was no longer beside me, but under me, and I was between her legs, those legs that willingly parted for me.. Her hips were active, her legs open, and she continued to hold and kiss me, with pelvic motions mimicking fucking. “But your husband isn’t here - I am!” I said. I pulled away from her. She kicked off her shoes, and I reached under her dress, along her hips, found the hem of her panty hose, and pulled it down. She shifted her position, and lifted her hips to make it easier for me. The hose moved down her legs, and then they were off. She lifted her hips again, and pulled her dress higher, over her legs, to her waist. “You won’t ever tell, will you?” she asked, completely into the role, reaching for me again. My own pants were opened enough so that by now my cock was out. I lay beside her, then on her, and her legs were apart, and her hand was guiding my cock, and suddenly - we met each other, and I was in her. “Never!” I was into the role, too. “I want you!” she said, being open, lubricated, accepting. People who have been married for a long time should be able to control themselves, shouldn’t they? We had the fastest, but most satisfying sex we had in years, right then. The nosiest, too, with her crying out, and me saying things like “I bet you wish your husband could fuck you like this!” while I fucked her, like that. It was over very quickly. Moments later, we looked at the mess. Her pantyhose were in a knotted lump, there was a seman stained dress, and pants, and sofa. We laughed, a bit tentatively, at each other, realizing we had exposed more of our inner selves than maybe we wanted. But we cleaned up the mess, undressed, uncovered one of the two double beds in the room, and got in. We just held each other, loving each other. Made love, which was so much more than just fucking. “Thank you, honey, for that,” she said. “I really wanted to know what it would have been like, if I let things go on at that party.” “It was really something, wasn’t it? You’re a bad girl.” I said, and she agreed. There was a long comfortable pause. “Honey?” she asked. “Hmmm?” “When you were telling me about what happened at the airport with Betty and her husband, didn’t you say you wondered what it would have been like if you took them up on their invitation?” “Yeah, sure, I do wonder. And not just about doing it with her, but what it would be like for him if we were both screwing her at the same time. I got turned on a lot thinking about it. Remember what happened when I came home from that trip - we had sex, a lot!” “I remember that. Now I know why. Well, honey, you were very good to me just now, and I pretended you were Ralph.” “I know. Sometimes I pretend you’re someone else, too. There’s nothing wrong with that.” “I know. Do you remember, though, I did tell you that if you helped me pretend, I’d do something for you, too?” “I remember that - when do I collect, and for that matter, what do I collect?” “You helped me live out my ‘almost’. Maybe we should do yours, now..” “How? What do you mean?” “I mean, you know, a guy, and his wife, and they want to celebrate like that. . .” “I don’t think I could play both roles”, I said. Dotty rolled on her side, facing me. Looking directly at me - into me - and made her suggestion. “I don't mean that way. I mean, you could be the husband, and I’d be the wife, and we’d find someone to celebrate with. Like what nearly happened to you in LA - would you like that?” “You mean, you, and me, and another guy?” “If you’d like to, sure. After what you did, I’d like to do that for you. And it’s raining, and we don’t know anyone here, and we don’t have anything else to do.” There was a long, long pause. ‘Nothing else to do’ was a pretty weak reason for starting something like this. But: my cock grew again. She felt that, rolled on to me, mounted me. And I was in her, again. “I guess that means ‘yes’” she said, after she felt me urgently, and violently, push in her, driving us both to orgasms again. I rolled off, after what amounted to another quickie. Damn, I’ve turned into a premature ejaculator! And my fucking brain was letting my fucking penis do the thinking! “Would you actually want to do that?” I asked. “Yes, I would, especially if it would excite us the way you’ve been exciting me, and if you’d like it, I sure would.” “I’ve never been in a three some,” I said. She hugged me, stroked at my cock. “Me neither. But we are on vacation. We said we wanted to try some new things. Wanna try, big guy?” Who IS this woman? She looked at the clock. “It’s only 7:30, and it’s Friday night”, she said. “Let’s go out and try to do it now. Are you up for it?” this new stranger who was my wife asked, looking at me, and smiling. “I’m ready for anything” was my status report to me, and her. We showered, dressed. I wore light weight slacks, and she, a summer dress. She looked cool, but typical of women there - she didn’t look like anyone “on the prowl”. “You don’t look like you’re going out to pick someone up,” I said, only to hear her respond “the clothes don’t make the woman!” “Where should we go?” I wondered, aloud. “We both had too much to drink - let’s go to the lounge here, first,” was her very practical suggestion. A few minutes later we were in the lounge. It was busier than I expected, filled with wet golfers, mainly. We got a table - more drinks! “Now what?” I wanted to know. “Now, I practice assertiveness, unless you’re bothered by that” was how my wife phrased it. A group of four guys a table away were just finishing their last beers. We heard them planning their evening. “All the guys go to the Crazy Horse and watch the dancers, Mike. Come on along! It’s our last night here, party a little”, we heard. Three of the four stood. I guessed it was Mike, still sitting, who said something about not wanting to go, he’d rather stay here. They left, and Mike was alone. “Mike” Dotty asked, “We’re looking for some fun tonight. What’s the Crazy Horse like?” Mike looked at her, at me, and sort of mumbled “It’s a girlie club, m’am, a strip joint.” A minute later Mike had responded to Dotty’s suggestion that "It'd be easier to hear what you say if you sat here" invitation and brought his beer to our table. I sat back, wanting to see just how this was going to go down. “How come you’re not going to the Crazy Horse?” she wanted to know. “M’am” - God, these southern men are polite - “I’m getting a divorce, and just looking at girls dancing around naked ain’t enough. And I don’t think it’s the sort of place you’d take a lady, sir.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- find tonytony3’s Myrtle Beach Vacation 2/2 (mf, mmf) for the conclusion of this story tonytony3@juno.cim _____________________________________________________________________ You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com Or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866] -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>