At the tick of 11am, I drove Karl's British Racing Green MG convertible right up to the Welcome Center at the hotel. A porter was waiting alongside Rex. They approached: Rex beaming and the porter lugging two small wicker baskets and blankets.

Rex directed that the picnic hampers be fitted behind the seats. He knew one large basket would not fit. So thoughtful! Rex asked if I would need anything from my overnight bag.

“No.”

Rex handed it to the bellhop and asked to drive. I did not mind. All I got was a peck on the cheek and, with the top down, off we went.

Our capital city is on the smaller side, so in no time we toured the rolling hills. Below 50 mph, we could talk, so we cruised the back roads. I told Rex that Karl and I had met in college, him on an ROTC Air Force scholarship. We tied the knot following graduation. He made a career in the Air Force. I managed to transfer courses from three different schools to get my law degree. Benefit was that I could practice in several states. We talked about the strains of a lawyer doubling as a military wife.

I said, “Karl has his car, his garage, his extensive fishing gear, and his service-related groups. He is president of a retired officers association and must travel a bit.”

I giggled and confessed, “Sometimes, it is good to get away from each other.”

Karl has a ‘hobby’ job, selling door-to-door. I know it sounds strange, but he likes to meet new people. Karl needs prove to himself that he could have made a career in a non-service related industry. I know he was never really happy in the military, but the pay was excellent.

He has a good friend that helps by providing items at wholesale. Karl goes out when he is bored. He will pick a neighborhood and unload whatever his old buddy has a surplus of but he never wants to talk about what he does. It would be boring to even mention it, he says.

I talked on, maybe too much. “I have my sewing, my kitchen, my ancestry research. Karl and I share household and yard duties. Neither of us likes to garden. We have always had a pool service and maid service. Life is good."

So why am I here? As I told Rex last night, “We do not go out enough. Karl and I both are getting a little stale.”

Rex suggested that we find a quiet place for a picnic. I recalled a grassy area, with a stand of trees, north of town. Karl and I had not been there for a while. The place is secluded and not well-known. When the interstate was built, the road became a dead-end, accessible to those who don't mind an adventurous series of dips, hills and hairpin turns. I am sure teenagers use it at night, but daytime it is deserted.

Rex had proved his ability to handle the MGB through the s-curves and the crowned surfaces. We took the road less traveled, even though it was dirt and gravel. I finally caught the connection between Rex’s using Karl's pride-and-joy recklessly with Rex's using me roughly as well. In a way, I might get damaged more than the car.

We spread the picnic blankets in the shade under the trees. We shared one Panini and drank a whole bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee. I had never tasted a twenty-year old champagne. Rex knows his wine: he said it was the difference between fresh tuna and tuna in a can. Neither of us wanted to over-stuff ourselves, so much of the lunch we saved for later.

Rex is from "out west." He said his wife passed away ten years ago and he threw himself into his work, a field that was non-existent a few years back. He lives alone: his black lab had to be put down this past December and he was shopping around for another pet, but she had to be "perfect." 

Rex had a concern that he would only share if I promised not to mention it to anyone. I would be discreet, but I didn’t see how I could share anything: we have only one mutual acquaintance. It seems that this trip to our military-industrial based capital was more than a convention for him.

He said, “If things worked out, I could be transferred here as part of my company's larger plans.”

Further, “How would Karl adjust to having a wife and a lover? Your husband did not hesitate to loan you to me last night.”

Karl had been pillow talking about sharing me for some time. I know he visited those wife-swapping picture and movie websites, as well as his browsing Craigslist. Would Karl ever consent to sharing me? Could our marriage survive?

We said nothing for a while, concentrating on eating and drinking.

Finally, Rex asked me about last night. “Did you enjoy it?”

I did not lie. “I loved it. I had not felt so alive in years. Rex, you bring out the animal in me. But, when you demand that I tell you that your dick is bigger, better than Karl's, I am not sure what I want to admit.”

I did not tell Rex that I went along with the ruse because I was enjoying myself and I was not going to stop seeing him because of his language in bed. Maybe he could eventually lay off the crude talk. Yet, in a way, the answer was "yes, he was better."

By the time Rex served the dessert salad, we were in direct sunlight. I said, “I’m getting warm. Let’s move into some new shade."

Rex countered with a wish to see my tits by sunlight.

"Only if I can see that beautiful prick of yours with those magnificent balls glowing in the sun as well." What was I saying? My pussy was next to be bargained for. He won.

The sequence of events that happened next should happen to everyone at least once. I don't consider myself an exhibitionist or nudist, not at all a nature-lover. Yet, to relax on your back and bathe naked all-over in direct sunlight, feeling the breeze and your adoring lover’s gaze is a pleasure I never knew existed. I opened my genitals to the world, and Rex. The music of the insects, the sound an airplane flying overhead, the birds chattering, the hum of traffic in the distance created a cone of privacy, just for us.

Rex must have felt something similar, because he began to get aroused. He told me, “Roll over.”

The voice was a tad more demanding than I thought necessary, given the situation; I complied. Now my bare ass and the sides of my tits were in plain view. He stroked my shoulders, coursing his fingers down my spine. When he grazed the sides of my tits, my whole body felt it and thirsted for more. Either the wine or the sun or the setting sent me into a state of complete relaxation, submission.

Rex knelt behind me and spread my legs. I knew what was going to happen. I raised myself onto my knees and buried my head in the blanket. Rex must have licked his fingers because when they came into contact with my outer lips, I shuddered. Gently, he stroked my damp pussy. He said he'd promised himself last night, when we were in a 69 position, that he was going to memorize every fold, every little piece of my cunt.

I flinched when he said "cunt." He sensed that and, again, more sternly than necessary, said "It is a cunt. A cunt that now belongs to me. A cunt that needs to be fucked."

I said no more; I enjoyed the attention. Then a finger in my asshole. Oops, maybe that was going too far. I yelped and leaned forward, a hint for him to remove that finger. But he moved up as well and inserted another finger into my ass. I relaxed, letting him have his way.

Two fingers from his other hand went into my vagina and found my g-spot. I unashamedly wiggled my ass. Now I knew why they call it doggy-style. I was a bitch in heat, needing satisfaction. I had an orgasm like the ones when I masturbate.

Rex started paying attention to my sex. He had a fingering style of massaging my hood, moving across it with a wet finger. He must have gone to the gym and learned about exercise needing ten reps. Finally, he uncovered my clitoris and pulled. He told me it was a woman's counterpart to a man's dick. If so, I saw why Karl and Rex liked me to rub the underside of the head. Rex was jerking me off, again.

He sensed that I was ready. He approached me with that long, thick pole. Last night, Rex had said his nickname in college was Beer Can. My new nickname for Rex’s dick would be "Bud." He slipped Bud in and I could feel my opening stretching to accept him. I felt Bud’s head pop into me.

“Oh shit! Oh my god!”

He shoved and suddenly he was all the way inside. He gripped my hips and sawed his dick up and down (how many reps I do not know) then sideways for more.

I was close. He pulled out. I thrust back at him.

"Who has a bigger dick, me or Karl?"

Stupid question, but I answered. We resumed. I was close again.

"Who fucks you better?" Again, stupid question at the moment, but I answered.

"Who owns this pussy?" I knew Rex knew he did and I admitted it, loudly this time.

I yelled, "Yes, you do. Just keep fucking me, God dammit!" I am sure my climax caused a major earthquake somewhere, probably in China on the other side of the world.

Rex was not through. He dismounted and got on his hands and knees. He told me to lie down on my back. He straddled my face between his knees. This had me looking right up at his dangling balls and still-hard dick. I wanted to suck it, pull on it, even bend it backwards, jerk it, suck it some more. His long, thick shaft glistened with our juices.

“Put that dick where it belongs.” I did as I was told and Rex moved his knees together to trap my head. “Keep that dick in your mouth and swallow all my cum.”

There would be no discussion. I put Bud in my mouth, locked my lips around the large bulb and accepted his cum. I swallowed twice and a sticky stream ran down my cheek. Rex opened his knees and wiped his hot dick across my cheeks, back and forth.

"Put it back in your mouth. I didn’t give you permission to stop," he ordered. His dick was getting soft, so I could relax my jaw and get most of it in. Rex stretched and lowered his body onto my face, crushing my head, mouth full of his dick. He shook, wiggled, fucked my face with a soft dick. He came a little more.

When he rose, I did too and slurped his shaft like a large wet noodle. Then he went down again, up again. This part of copulation was not truly a turn-on for me, but if he liked it, I would do it every day, from now on.

We eventually spooned on the blanket. In a while, I felt the sun burning me in places that had not seen radiation in a long time. We moved the blankets into the shade, put our tops on.

I am not into water sports but I had to pee. I discreetly went to the other side of the large oak. Rex had to go, too. He sighed, aimed at the trunk of the tree and let go. If I thought that he had cum buckets moments ago, he also pissed a long stream. He felt proud to be able to shoot above eye-level. I was not going to compete or compare.

Strangely, I began to think of Karl. Would he have entered a pissing contest with Rex? Who would win? Rex's verbal bantering and teasing during sex was new to me. Some women like to be called slut and whore, maybe worse. I found the words distracting. I had a real choice here: refuse Rex's coital demands for the spoken words of his prowess. If I did, I'd risk ending this right now. I could acquiesce in practice, if not in reality. What I told him was true: he was bigger and fucked better.

Would Karl ever go for such an arrangement? Maybe so, maybe not.

Rex broke my concentration. I needn't have worried. Rex is so skilled at reading body language, he brought it up. "You have a choice to make. You know that what you said is true and that you are going to have to work on Karl to accept the inevitable. Your pussy is already getting accustomed to my girth. Within a few weeks, you will be able to deep-throat me and take me in your ass. You will admit that your cunt belongs to me. I want to continue to see you. If we part friends now, you will find another lover. 

“To stay together, we will have to convince Karl that he must accept your sexuality the way it is. I own your cunt, will continue to call it what it is, and use my cunt as I see fit."

The next few minutes were tense. I was weighing my options. Would Karl agree to any arrangement that let me keep seeing Rex? I had to speak with my husband. In a way, I missed him and wanted him to share in my joy. Rex sensed my desire to communicate with my mate. He said that a husband who shared his wife expected to be included in the romance.

Rex said, “Wives call their husbands after sex with their lover; checking in is not unusual. Karl won’t lose you and I promise I won’t take you away from him.”

I dialed Karl’s number: not in service. Strange. Did Karl block my calls? Would Karl do something rash? Not likely. He was a former Air Force pilot who spent twenty years squiring military officials all over the world. Calm and steady, unflappable. Our marriage (until now) was safe, albeit not exciting (until now).

Karl was probably out selling. It was a fine day to be in the sunshine.

Rex offered his cellphone. I declined. He asked what our carrier was; his was the same. He dialed Customer Service and handed the phone to me. The operator had a weird accent, maybe British or South African, or maybe trying to affect a foreign accent. My account had been frozen. She could help but not offer service until the next business day. It would take a few hours to reset the number. Sigh. Time to adjourn.

As he drove back to town, Rex reached over and pulled on my nipple . When we got closer to civilization, he moved down to my pussy. I was still wet. Thumb and forefinger attacked my hood and he jerked me off. I opened my legs and humped his hand. He drove the MGB right into the hotel parking garage fingering me; he tried to finish me off in the garage, with the top up. Nope! Now I would be horny again!

We held hands all the way to the lobby. Rex kissed my hand and offered his left hand to me to kiss. I smelt a slight aroma (me), but not an offensive one. We strolled into the lobby. We passed the same couple from the elevator last night and they both smiled and wished us a happy second honeymoon.

Rex swooped me up in his arms and started to kiss me. He whispered that my mouth tasted like cum. I grabbed him by the ears and gave him a deep kiss and then whispered, “You taste good.” The couple enjoyed our split-second romance, then walked on.

The suite wasn't ready yet. While Rex spoke with the concierge, my gaze wandered around the lobby. A valet was changing the spaghetti board. That rectangular lined black felt pad on a stand was used to announce upcoming events. The white letters in the little boxes looked like spaghetti, hence the name. 9:00 AM Monday Main Dining Room, Reginald (Rex) Gold, President of SPY, By Invitation Only.

We waited, sitting on a comfortable sofa in the lobby. 

"So, tell me, Rex, are you the President of SPY?"

Yes, he was. The Society of Professional Yeggs. Being a lawyer and crossword enthusiast, I knew that a yegg was a safecracker. I needed an explanation.

“My company does industrial and commercial surveillance. Organizations pay well for useful information. My corporation gathered data from credit card purchases, frequent flier numbers, social media, church groups, and clubs and mostly anywhere a digital fingerprint was seen. Our computers watch millions of ordinary citizens for extraordinary behaviour. 

“For instance, last year, I flagged a Texas high school principal who had ordered two hand-made suits from Hong Kong. The chap usually shops upscale stores, but this was unusual. The principal changed his family vacation flight to Europe to first class. His cell phone records showed stops at BMW, Audi and Mercedes dealerships. My research showed the principal’s doctoral thesis was on revamping the textbook purchasing system for his state. His college roommate was a vice-president of a book publisher. Although the principal had had no contact with his chum for a dozen years, there were four calls placed recently. 

“I guessed correctly that the guy was being considered for a lucrative position on the Textbook Advisory Board. A publisher with a commissioner in its pocket would be a coup. I exposed the plot. The courts have yet to decide whether the money tendered by the college chum was a bribe, because the principal had not yet been nominated. 

“Another three publishers paid us well to ensure the principal was not appointed.”

I spotted a house phone and dialed Karl’s number. He answered, but sounded strange: out of breath? Nervous? In a hurry to hang up?

“How are you? OK? Safe?” he asked. 

“I am fine, satisfied.” That double entendre was the end of the conversation.

But was I satisfied? Was he satisfied with what he had driven me into?

The room was ready.