I was jostled awake by movement on the bed; then noise from the bathroom. Morning!

Robert, my husband, was peeing, with the bathroom door open. I resented this masculine ritual as just 'wrong'.

“Harrumph!” I uttered nothing else but that meaningless, useless, pointless objection.

I sensed another body in the bed and realized that Thomas, our guest, was also there. Strange: he was in the middle, butt up against me!

Our first threesome dawn dance began.

Thomas waited a while after Robert left the bathroom to pee. Robert left the light on and so we could not fall back fast asleep. I dozed. I woke up to my new lover snuggling up to me.

I sensed, “Robert is not coming back to our marital bed any time soon.”

Instead, husband was starting our dacha morning ritual. Robert would fetch wood from the porch, toss the logs on the fire, start the coffee and lay out breakfast.

Thomas closed the bathroom door and did his business. He got back in bed and I knew he had cleaned himself up a bit: teeth, private parts, hair.

I asked into his ear, “You’re not a morning person?”

‘Mmff,” was his response.

I roused myself, peed (with the door respectfully closed), rinsed as well. I re-entered the bedroom, gently closing the door to the living room.

It struck me that, whatever had happened at the end of our evening trysts, Thomas had ended up in the middle and Robert, my husband, on the end!

I thought, “Maybe Thomas is gay?

“NO! Not after his performance with me: he was all man with his all-balls-to-the-wall, fuck-this bitch-until-she-screams, make-her-say-her-pussy-belongs-to-me behavior.”

I studied his body. Lean, leaner than Robert. His dick was uncircumcised so it looked longer, more intimidating. His legs were strong, obviously accustomed to work outs.

I whispered into his ear, “You still want to own this pussy?”

Thomas rose onto one elbow and said, “I sure do.”

With that my virile lover lay back down, pulled the duvet away from his body to reveal a stiff uncircumcised dick waving skyward.

Thomas pulled me toward him by one tit and said, “Suck my dick. Suck it real good. Taste me, then get on top of me, then fuck my brains out.”

I was cautious and new to this reality. I snuggled closer and his fingers went right to my cunt. I raised one leg enough for him to touch me. As I gazed at that fat piece of flesh waving in the air, my new man stroked the outer lips of my pussy. I grunted and pushed my pelvis at the intruding fingers.

The dick in front of me jerked upward and my hips involuntarily moved again. I kissed him on the lips. He tasted fresh. I climbed aboard his body, leaning forward to continue kissing those literally sweet lips. I brought my hands up to his chest and squeezed his tits, as if he were a girl.

Thomas said, “OH, I like that.”

I tweaked his nipples like I would a girl’s. I milked both at the same time, still looking straight at his face. He pulled my head toward his, turned my head so that he could talk easily into my ear and said, “God. I thought last night, when I was high, that I had found the best pussy in the world. This morning, straight and sober, it is going to be even better.”

I answered, “Let’s see.”

I slid down his body and nuzzled his dick. When I freed it from my face, that monster sprang back up and slapped his belly.

“Shit,” I said, “that thing almost reaches your belly button.”

“Get busy, then.”

I was beginning to warm up to this guy’s personality. Thomas was much more laid back and comfortable in bed than my husband.

I commented honestly, “Robert is all business in bed, very predictable. You are different, more at home with me after a few hours than my husband is after all this time.”

“Get busy then. I am claiming my pussy right now. Put some of your pussy juice on my dick and rub it in.”

I followed instructions. I was amazed at how wet I’d become. My own fingers went up my cunt. I pleasured myself, circling the entrance to my vagina, rubbing my clit and scooping some fluids into my palm. I returned my damp hand to Thomas’s pole.

Thomas instructed, “Now rub that onto my dick. Pull down the foreskin. Taste yourself.”

I lowered my mouth onto his dickhead. I sensed mixed pre-cum and pussy juice. I slobbered more saliva onto the head, circled the base with my thumb and forefinger and pushed down. My lover’s hips instinctively pushed up, off the bed.

I straddled him and hovered. He looked me in the eye and guided the head to my opening with both hands. We stared at each other as I impaled myself on my new fucktool. Once all the way in, I held still for a few seconds, relishing the feeling.

Gradually, we started to move, in unison. He was looking into my eyes, into my soul.

A sex guide I’d read talked about unity and individuality. Fucking Thomas melded the two. He was working hard to please me and I tried to find the best moves to pleasure him. Together, we were a team busting our asses to win, to get to the top.

My expression must have changed, because his did too. I felt that he was trying to tell me by his moves and gestures, how much he liked where he was.

I reciprocated by rocking my hips, grinding my pelvis into his. We got faster.

“Oh fuck!”

I heard myself echo, “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”

We climaxed together.

I thought it was over. After shooting a fresh wad of cum deep into me, Thomas used both his hands to pull me up towards his face. I knee-walked, dragging my sensitive pussy up his belly and beyond his chest. My knees were at his ears.

A tongue darted out and grazed my damp pussy-lips. I came down a bit and he tongued me deeper. When he started to move his face side to side, widening his circles, I went even closer. Thomas knew my clit was still tender, so he caressed it carefully.

“That is your cunt now. Treat it nicely,” I said, as he worked me even closer to another morning orgasm.

Thomas was able to envelope my clit completely in his mouth. He moved his head side to side, then up and down. On the third revolution, I came again.

We lay there, me dozing astride my new lover.

A respectful rap on the door woke us up.

Robert and I needed a day like Saturday. That was the reason for the holiday. We needed to re-connect after a too-long separation in time, space and attention.

Thomas’s presence actually helped. His personality and sense of when to chime in and when to hold back helped make it a relaxing day. The cabin had radio, television, internet connection, stereo. Robert had ordered the Saturday Washington Post and the New York Times for Saturday and Sunday.

We chose to leave the electronics off. Instead, we three read both papers over breakfast and coffee. Snow started and would continue until Monday morning.

Thomas announced that he and I should do the dishes. Robert decided to walk alone to the lodge for some exercise. I had brought books, plus a new magazine.

After we did the dishes, Thomas ‘moved in’ to our room. There was ample space large armoire for his stuff. It struck me as unusual, weird almost, to see two sets of toiletries in the bathroom and two sets of clothes on hangers.

I thought, “Is this what it will be like if Thomas moves in? What will people think? Do I care? Having another person in the family might be nice.”

I settled on the couch, daydreaming. Thomas took the arm chair. Nothing was said, again, about what we had done.

Robert came back with more food. He found fresh fruit and personal-size tubs of yoghurt. He’d scheduled the three of us for ski lessons for two o’clock. I wondered if the innkeeper who knew us quite well wondered what was going on. Who is this third party?

I had plenty of time to relax, watch the snow fall, listen to the wind in the branches, and dream.

We ate the apples and pears Robert had picked up. We would need some energy to go skiing in a little while. My husband lounged/read his book at one end of the long sofa under one lamp. I had the other end: we could ‘play footsie’ all we wanted.

My new lover was in the easy chair, scribbling in a notebook. I looked at that face of his. What was his major? Playing college sports was a probability. He’s not spoken of is job, his life, his loves. No one could have guessed what an animal he was, in bed, a few hours ago. I am sure my husband knew something went on, but he was blissfully ignorant of the intense pleasure Thomas gave me.

My mind wandered. At one point in the hot tub last night, I’d wondered out loud about the abundance of stars we could see. Thomas had been stoned, but coherent.

His little lecture sounded like he might teach junior high science. “In winter, the stars seem brighter because the part of Earth we’re standing on is facing the outward arm of the galaxy to which our sun belongs. In the summer, our planet faces inward, toward billions and billions of stars. So, yes, we do see more stars in winter because there are less stars and galaxies to cloud our view.

Now, I thought, “Crap! He had that presentation down pat.”

Last night, I was a dazzled teenager. Today, I am a dazzled woman with a desire to continue fucking someone new. I decided that tonight though, Robert could watch.

We hiked to the lodge and got ready for our lesson. I turned a few heads, even at my age. More heads turned when folks realized we were a threesome. None of us bore a family resemblance that would hint at someone being a brother or sister. If the innkeeper studied the guest list, he did not let on. Discretion is an absolute necessity in the welcoming businesses.

I whispered to my husband, “Let them look. Let them guess. I don’t care. Thank you for Thomas.”

Robert leaned over and kissed me.

We did our lesson. None of us would qualify for more than beginning-amateur status.

On the way back to the cabin, Thomas quizzed Robert on what tonight’s bill of fare might be. They chatted and compared notes on how to cook a cowboy steak, when to serve it. What condiments and side dishes did we have available.

Finally, Thomas asked, “Robert, can I be in charge of the kitchen tonight?”

“Why yes, of course,” my husband agreed. It was getting dark already.

Robert is no slouch in the useless knowledge department.

He spoke as we ambled back. “Sunset is at 4:45, in about fifteen minutes.

Then we’ll be treated to a few minutes of civil twilight. It gets darker gradually. You can still make out some colors during civil time, but soon we won’t be able to see much, except by the moon and the stars. Nighttime is all black and white, no colors.”

Thomas was in charge of cocktails as well. He selected two bottles of red wine, popped the cork on both. One he placed on the edge of the hot tub and announced, “This will be at the right sipping temperature by the time we climb back into this beast after supper.”

My spouse countered with, “Why wait until after supper? Angie and I have lots of time before we eat. A good soak will do my body good. How about you, wife?”

“Sure.” I caught a whiff of I-want-some-time-alone-with-Angie in his voice.

Nudity and the exposing of private body parts was not an issue. Thomas was stoking the fire as I walked past, en-route to the tub.

My new lover glanced up from his task at hand. “You guys have fun. Don’t wait for me.”

Now what the fuck was Thomas saying? If it is now his pussy, shouldn’t he want to possess it?

I made a show of getting into the tub. My husband admired what he saw.

“Nice. Very nice indeed,” he commented. “That body had quite a workout last night and I guess, this morning also.”

I had to tell him. “Yes. I fucked him this morning. But then, when I thought he was through, he made love to his pussy with his mouth and tongue.”

Maybe I’d gone too far? I leaned into Robert and he kissed me on the lips. His hands found my sensitive tits. We rearranged so that his back was against the side of the tub and I fitted into him, both of us facing the darkening sky.

I started, “So, on winter nights, we see the exurbs of our galaxy?”

Robert was in a playful mood. “Yeah. Can you see any suburban moms out there?”

My answer led back to an issue I needed some clarification on. “I might see a suburban mom being a MILF, jerking some young stud’s dick?”

I continued, “God, Robert, your dick is getting harder and harder. You don’t mind me fucking Thomas, do you?”

He got this puzzled, contemplative look on his face.

Finally, he said, “Angie. We’ve been married a long time. I know that being away from home is difficult, but necessary for both our careers. I love the games we play when one of us are on the road. This is just one more step a loving, married couple can take.”

I confided, “Well. This portion of the threesome has had enough for one day, and one night. I want to show you how much I care for you, but vaginal sex is out. Thomas is large, huge, and unstoppable at times. I am cutting both of you off tonight.”

Thomas is a wonderful cook. He prepared the bone-in prime rib exactly like Robert does. While we were eating, they chatted like brothers about this and that technique, seasoning, and timing.

After dinner, we enjoyed the hot tub and the next bottle of wine.

I don’t know how Thomas got the message, but he knew sex was off the menu. If my guys were disappointed, neither showed it. Perhaps the beef or the wine or the smoke or the exercise slowed us down? Maybe the group-sense that there was more to relationships than just having sex.

Robert and I turned in first. We showered together, then hopped into bed. Thomas was still scribbling in front of the fire. The bedroom door was open.

I was on the side of the bed with the reading lamp. Robert sidled up against me and started tweaking my nipples. He kissed my ear. I kissed him back. I still did not want to have sex tonight, but those stirrings had a mind of their own.

“Mmm. You’re getting hard again. Are you thinking about me fucking you or me fucking Thomas?”

“You fucking me this time. And I will get into that pussy of yours, or Thomas’s version of it.” At least my husband spoke the truth.

I started to massage his pole. It grew in my hand.

“Do you want to watch me fuck him?”

My husband answered quickly, “Of course. But you must know Thomas and I have a past as well.”

“Tell me more.”

“In time, all will be revealed.”

“Dammit. He is talking in those old quotes again. No pussy for you tonight, hubby.”

He had gotten my attention.

I countered, “I want you to see how hot he gets me. Is that wrong?”

His reply, “Not at all.”

It was still snowing the next morning. I got up and looked out the window: our car was buried in a snowdrift. I came back to bed and both my men were half-awake.

History repeated itself. I confess to the same feelings as yesterday, when Robert left the bathroom door open. I had the same sexual arousal as yesterday when Thomas returned to the bed, smelling fresh and horny. The only difference was that, somehow, our bedroom door was open. Anyone walking past would see exactly what was going on.

Thomas pulled back the duvet.

“You are hard already!” I was amazed.

“Then do something about it.” I considered that an order I could not disobey.

I imagined. My husband of two decade plus puttering around in the kitchen of a dacha/cabin in the mountains. He’d started a fire, coffee, gourmet breakfast. I flirted with a man of my husband’s choosing.

Thomas was naked, clean-breathed, frisky.

He made the first move. We two kissed, exploring. It was easy to find a rhythm to his probes, your probes, his smooches, your responses. Never mind the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Sounds might as well come from the movie you two are not watching.

Your kisses moved south. Unmercifully he teased your tits, spreading the white part to expose the nerve ending on the brown part of you nipples. He gets it.

I returned his favors by sucking his dick, licking his balls, jerking him off. I lowered my mouth onto his dick. The aroma of sex was intoxicating.

Thomas grabbed my hair and grinds my mouth onto his member.

“You like?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. I like.” A leading response.

Thomas knew he had hit a nerve and seemed to enjoy the advantage. He grabbed me by the hair and forced his dick deeper into my mouth.”

“C,mon, bitch. Swallow it.”

He made me open my throat and henshoved his dick down my throat.

“Suck it. Swallow it. Take it all the way down. Show me you love that dick enough to take it all the way.” He was screaming. I knew Robert could hear every word. I didn’t care.

Mercifully, Thomas relented. By relenting, I mean, he let me fuck him.

“Get on top, whore,” he ordered.

I complied.

“Now, call your husband in here.” Another order I had to obey.

I called, “Robert, I need you. Come into the bedroom, please,” I cried.

OK, “cried” can have lots of crossword puzzle meanings: regret, desperation, grief, outrage, sorrow.

Which “cried” fit? Regret that Robert had not given me a t-totally satisfying sex life; desperation borne of being to wanting, too long? Yeppers! I was horny and was going to get my wheels spun; grief that our marriage had come to this, but I cared not; outrage that I was succumbing to carnal pleasure; sorrow that life would never be the same.

One reason things would not be the same was because Thomas’s dick was so big, so long, so uncircumcised, so fat that I was going to need one that size from now on.

Robert saw us. I was crouched on top, breathing like I’d been running miles, with Thomas beneath me. My husband approached the bed, smelling of bacon.

“Husband,” I spoke. “You did this. You showed me another lover. I think you two know more about each other than I need to know. Right now, Do it! Take Thomas’s long, hard, fat, uncircumcised dick and put it at my fuck hole. I am going to lower myself on it.”

Robert did as he was told.

With the head in, my work was easier. I lowered myself onto that huge prick, working backward and then forward to give easy access. At the half-way point, I raised up and slammed down. A circular motion brought a wicked smile. Wider circles brought wider smiles.

“Have you ever had a cunt jerk you off’? I whispered into Thomas’s ear. Robert heard my every word.

No answer but a grunt.

I’d seen enough porn of the dude fucking a girl senseless, but being denied the pleasure of coming in her cunt. Producers wanted visible evidence of satisfaction, so they show the guy jerking off onto her face.

“Fake, fake, fake!” Robert and I would scream at the TV screen.

“Our show would be nothing like that,” I promised myself.

I started by bringing my knees up to Thomas’s chest/waist area. He was still inside me, but barely. I lowered myself onto him. My cunt was already slick.

“You like being fucked”? I asked him.

“Oh yeah. Fuck me. Fuck me good.” He was begging. I liked that.

“You like a girl jerking you off?” Obvious answer came quickly.

Yes, anatomically, a girl can use her cunt to jerk off a guy. I can prove it. And we have independent verification. My husband was there for the whole event.

I started slow, very slowly. I felt the head slip in and accepted his girth better than before. My lover lunged forward and I was ready this time. I adjusted my innards but welcomed his probe deep.

“Hit me. Fuck me. Shove that pole way inside me.”

Thomas grabbed my hips and lunged. I was not quite ready and he hit that spot without any padding. He took my grunt as pleasure. Okay, Thomas hurt me, but it felt good. Then he slapped me on the buttocks. That hurt, but I did not care.

I felt guilty and I should be punished: my new lover was hitting me.

“Why?

He spanked me again.

“Oh, wow.” I responded.

Thomas would not let go! He held on to me like a maniac. Every position has its advocates and when you watch website porn, you see them go through the motions of the standard positions. Real couples invariably find what works and use those, but not exclusively. I mind-tripped over what position Thomas and I would adopt.

I decided, “Robert introduced us, he must allow me have Thomas whenever I wanted. Sorry, DeAndre and Lance: now I have a real lover.”

I could lie and say we both reached orgasm at the same time, but that would not be the truth. My cunt jerking Thomas off was enough to bring him off. I raised up just a bit and Thomas started to lunge up into me. He had just enough residual rigidity to reach me g-spot. I went off.

Robert could not take his eyes away from the spectacle.

Finally, the bacon began to burn. Time stood still for the three of us. We behaved like fools, not caring if the house burned down.

Somebody had to take charge. “Robert, the bacon is burning.”