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From: tonytony3@juno.com (anthony anthony)
Subject: tonytony3’s Myrtle Beach Vacation 1/2(mf, mmf)
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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

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