I opened Mallory's car door as usual, got in the other side, started the car, and said, “So, post-game review. How do you think that went? Were you uncomfortable?”

“Maybe a little, at first, when I saw him, it brought back a rush of recollections,” she admitted. “I remembered a lot of stuff, and it was embarrassing, and kind of exciting at the same time,” she admitted, although understated.

“Scene of the crime stuff again?” I suggested.

“Yeah, scene of the crime stuff,” she agreed. “I know I keep saying it, and I think it about a thousand times more than I say it, but I’m not like that. I don’t do those kinds of things. I don’t even think those kinds of thoughts, and yet, here I am.”

“At the scene of the crime?” I replied.

“At the scene of the crime,” she continued. “I know who I am and what I am…and then I get around both of you, together, and I get these, you know, butterflies. And then, this other part of me forgets who I am and what I am,” Mallory divulged.

“Okay, I hear what you’re saying, but even at our age, who and what we are isn’t necessarily inflexible or subject to minor changes?” I proposed.

“Minor changes?!” she said aghast. “ There’s nothing minor about this.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, trying to correct myself. “I wasn’t trying to minimize things. I think we still have the ability to change, and experience different things completely out of the norm, or at least what we consider to be normal for us.”

“Well, the moral, normal part of me is having a very hard time accepting the 'newly discovered' part of me, or the 'newly discovered' part of you, for that matter,” she replied, sounding frustrated.

“Oh, I can certainly understand that. You would know better than I how differently men and women view intimacies,” I said. “Men, at least I think, can be more superficial about it. Men have an easier time with recreational privileges, let’s say. Men have an easier time separating from the emotional aspect. For women, geez, it’s a completely different equation, a night and day difference.”

“You can say that again,” she replied.

“Let’s use me as an example,” I began. “Fifteen years ago, if someone had told me that I would have left California, would never want to go back voluntarily, and would be crazy in love and living in Tennessee, I would have thought they were insane. Furthermore, if you had told me that at any time in my life, that I’d be supportive of sharing my wife with someone else, well, I would have had that person committed,” I said, being completely honest.

“Yeah, I get it, but that’s you," Mallory remarked.

“Now, I'm no therapist, I have no degree, no nothing, but I think what's bothering you the most is that you think this has changed you in some crazy way,” I said.  “And while that position is true to a degree, it hasn’t changed who you are. You’re no less loving, caring, compassionate, honest, committed, or loyal. You’re no less committed, no less loving to your family, no less concerned with their well-being. So, essentially, I don’t know what’s changed. I might argue that something has merely expanded.”

“Well, that’s a really convincing way to put it, and sure, all that’s true, but I feel different. Not like, well, like me,” she answered.

“I can tell you this, right now, you’re more beautiful, more confident, more attentive, more engaged, more talkative, and more loving than you’ve ever been, at least concerning me. And for good or bad, from where I’m standing, it’s an improvement. Just because “the event” happened, you haven’t made it your whole life. It's not your top priority. It’s just an out-of-the-box thing. That’s it, nothing more than that.”

“That seems very oversimplified,” she said, despite my best efforts to comfort her.

“I’m not trying to minimize things, but I don’t know that it needs to be more complicated than that,” I replied. “And not trying to simplify it even further, but it’s just kind of fun.”

“See? There’s another thing that I can’t bring myself to fully accept,” she said with a note of skepticism.

“What’s that?” I asked, pretty much knowing what she meant.

“That you’re just fine with everything,” she replied. “Not that you're being totally opposed or threatened or jealous would’ve helped anything, but,” she sighed. “It’s just completely unlike you.”

“Okay, being totally transparent, my reaction is as shocking to me as it is to you,” I answered. “I have my own little battles with this to fight, but you’ve been so sick, and tired, and disinterested for so long that this is something for the better. Once you get past the whole sociological taboo factor, it’s just plain, consensual, adult fun,” I replied, thinking out loud. “We’re not hurting anyone, and it’s our secret. No one else knows, nor does anyone need to know.”

“It might help if you were a little jealous,” she remarked half half-kidding.

“So I think that's really the point. I don't think it's that you’re struggling with what happened. As a matter of fact, I think it’s quite possible that you’re minimizing just how much you enjoyed yourself. I also think you're downplaying how much you'd like for it to happen again. I'll bet you think about it all the time. And you're just afraid to openly admit it, even to me. Because I think what you want most is for me to object. And that's the part I don't understand. But I understand you. So, instead of keeping all those thoughts to yourself, you should just go ahead and express them. You're entitled to your desires. I’m not judging you, I’m supporting you. Why don’t you think about that?” I said, having reached my end of these circular discussions.

Mallory didn’t say a word. She was very quiet and very still on the remainder of the ride home. I knew from past experience that I’d hit a nerve, one that made her uncomfortable, one that made her think. And while I may not have been completely correct, there was a large amount of truth in what I told her.

We got home and went into he house like we would after any normal evening out. We settled in and watched a little TV before going to bed. Every time I glanced over at Mallory, I could see that she was looking at the TV but not really watching it. Obviously preoccupied. Given our dinner engagement, she was clearly distracted. I knew she had a ton of stuff on her mind and needed time to sort things out, if she could.

We went into the bedroom, and she got ready for bed while I showered, as usual.

When I exited the shower, Mallory was sitting on the long bathroom counter. And I could tell that she had done at least a little bit of thinking and had something to say.

“Honey, you know how I am, and these kinds of things are hard for me to own up to, but,” she began. “But, what you said earlier, well, it’s not entirely undeniable,” she said, sounding defeated.

“I’ve known you a long time, Mallory. I know how stubborn you can be, and sometimes for no good reason at all. And in this very unusual circumstance, it’s not helping,” I replied. “But, I stand by my word, you’re in charge. Whatever you want to do moving forward is fine with me, just stop torturing yourself. It’s not doing anyone any good.”

Mallory sighed. “You’re right, Honey. I did make the final decision, and if I’m being honest, I absolutely loved every minute of our experience. It was exciting and unpredictable, and I do think about it all the time. I wonder about what might happen next time and how much I want it to happen. I think I’m afraid of losing control and losing you in the process,” she answered, as if she were confessing.

“Well, at least you can admit it. And that’s a huge step,” I said. “Because, if this is something you’d like to indulge in from time to time, then we have to be truthful about it, or we really are doomed.”

“You’re right. You know, sometimes, I think my PhD gets in the way,” she replied. “I’m always looking for the complex solution, when really, the answer is simply to be open and honest.”

“In the end, this whole thing is about fulfilling desire, indulging fantasy and passion, and allowing yourself to have a bit of fun,” I said, attempting to put things into a simpler perspective.

“Alright, you know what?” she said in a way that sounded less burdened. “I’m just going to enjoy myself. You're right, no one is getting hurt, no one is lying, and now and again, I like having two cocks, sometimes,” she concluded, laughing and turning red.

I laughed along with her. “Now that’s being honest,” I replied. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll try and be a little more possessive, if it’ll make you feel better,” I said with the slightest sprinkling of sarcasm.

Mallory smiled. “It might. And what about this party?”

“It’s just a party. We’ve been to parties before, right?” I answered.

“I know, I know, but I’ve never been to a party that ends with me taking my clothes off,” she said, smiling.

“Well, that’s a shame. There’s a first time for everything,” I replied.

Mallory laughed. “ Okay, I’ll try and calm down, you’re right, it’s just a party. Parties are fun, and we’ll have a good time,” she said, trying to ease her own apprehension.

“You’ll definitely be the hottest woman there,” I mentioned.

“I doubt that,” she denied. “But, I’ll definitely have the biggest secret.”

*************************************************************************

I continued drying off and left the bathroom to find Mallory sitting on the edge of the bed. She was wearing the shirt I’d worn to dinner, and nothing else.

“I thought that I might express a little gratitude for you being such an understanding and generous husband,” Mallory said with a little sparkle in her eyes. “I thought you might need some help drying off.”

I approached her, with my now very attentive friend rising to the occasion.

“You know, I just might need some help drying off,” I agreed. “You always have great ideas.”

“Well, you have been very, very understanding lately,” she said, licking my grateful companion from base to tip. “Not to mention, very, very supportive.”

“Not to mention, uncharacteristically open-minded,” I added jokingly.

“Oh, yes, and let’s not forget patient and permissive,” she replied, playing along. “ I just thought I might show my appreciation, and I know how much you like being appreciated,” she added, taking my cock deep into her oral grasp.

“Yeah, I just can’t say enough about the benefits of appreciation,” I remarked, running my hands into her flowing, golden hair that glistened like beams of sunlight streaking down from the heavens.

“Do you like watching me, Sweetheart?” she said, asking the most rhetorical question I’d ever heard.

“I most certainly do. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather watch more than this,” I replied, slowly guiding myself in and out of Mallory’s very accommodating mouth.

She actually moaned while taking my very thankful friend deeper into her oral grip, much to my shock and surprise.

“Do you enjoy watching me get fucked? I get really excited when you watch me getting filled with another man’s cock,” Mallory uttered while squeezing my shaft, and greedily consuming the first drops of my appreciation.

“I do very much enjoy seeing you get fucked, Sweetheart,” I confirmed. “I love seeing how excited you become.”

“That’s wonderful, because I’m looking forward to getting fucked while I have my mouth full of your cock,” she finally admitted.

“I'm quite certain that can be arranged,” I replied. “I know just the man for the job.”

“You know something. Honey?” she said, temporarily releasing my companion. “Conditions may have become a bit damp just south of here, maybe you should take a look, just to make sure everything’s all right,” she suggested with a hint of a naughty smile.

“You are truly full of very good ideas this evening,” I quickly replied.

Mallory then rolled over onto her tummy and brought her knees underneath herself, causing a spontaneous and unscheduled full moon to rise.

“Now there’s a sight to behold,” I said. “And I’m going to 'Be-holding' that full moon in about two seconds.”

I placed my hands on the two hemispheres of that full moon and ran my tongue up and down the equator, before slowly spreading them apart like the juicy halves of a Georgia peach.

“Uh, mission control, it appears that there are a couple of unexplored craters here. I’m going in to take a closer look.”

The sight that greeted me never ceases to stop me in my tracks. I can only describe it as something between fine art and a banquet.

I lowered my head, and my tongue began to explore. Mallory let out a deep sigh of what sounded like relief, as my warm probe investigated her delicious pink crevasses. My tongue was consumed by those cotton candy color drapes as she began to softly moan.

“Oh, Sweetheart, that feels incredible,” she moaned. “I love the way you do that.”

I remained at my post, slowly inserting my tongue deeper and deeper into her creamy clutches, relishing the sugary interior. I started using my thumb to lightly brush the surface of her sensitive little backdoor bell, which inspired a little adorable wiggling on her part.

I fed from her dripping little flower like a hummingbird gathering nectar. Her positioning allowed my tongue far deeper access to her sugar bowl, of which I gratefully took advantage.

I inserted a finger slowly into the sugar fountain and withdrew a syrupy, honey-covered digit. I lightly painted Mallory’s tight little bud with the Nectar of the Gods, causing her to involuntarily shiver.

My tongue happily danced across the sensitive, welcoming little dimple, turning gentle circles and teasing the very center.

“Good Grief, Honey,” she moaned. “I love that more and more all the time,” she added breathlessly. “You’re so naughty, Mister, that just makes me want to cum," she said as if expressing a private thought.

“You’re a very naughty girl,” I replied, lifting my head briefly. “And I do so appreciate the naughty side of you, just as much as I appreciate your backside,” I added while tickling that little bud with my wetted finger.

Almost as soon as my tongue resumed its exploration, Mallory’s thighs began to quiver. I became lost between those two perfect alabaster spheres. Her breathing increased, and I had the presence of mind to cup my hand at the base of her sugar fountain just as she began to orgasm. The warm, clear elixir gathered in my palm, and I wasted no time in dispersing it, spreading the sweetness over her delectable pinkness.

I was aware of her hand reaching back and grasping my cock, which jutted out like an animal's horn, and softly gasping,

“Honey, I want you in me,” Mallory requested, in that irresistible pleading tone of voice. “Besides, this is killing my back, Mister,” adding a little dose of reality.

I reluctantly left the candy counter, and she rolled over onto her back, spreading those invitingly, pillowy thighs. Mallory’s heavenly pinkness shimmered in the diminished light, making her look all the more appetizing.

As my associate’s enlarged head began to pierce the pink veil, Mallory said,

“Slowly, Mister, I want you to fill me up. My kitty wants to feel every inch.”

There was no way I was going to ignore such a request, so I grasped my ridged friend and subtly rubbed him over her stiff, pink petals before slowly parting the shroud with his spongy head.

I slowly inserted myself into her slippery warmth, and her mouth opened wider with each successive inch. I leaned down, and she kissed me with a long-forgotten level of passion that had been very much absent and very much missed.

I rhythmically began sliding into the pink depths, feeling myself getting squeezed as her climax began to build. She started making soft, passionate sounds, something I hadn’t heard in years. Those quick little yelps that were created when she relaxed and submitted to the pleasure bestowed upon her.

She pulled me down to kiss her, and my ridged friend entered her to its full length.

She moaned lustfully as our tongues flirted, and my cock slid back and forth. We broke out embrace, and her mouth remained open, creating the most angelic sighs I’d heard in a very long time. I kept my mouth close to hers, inhaling each breath and each utterance she created.

Mallory's eyes had that far-away expression in them. That anticipatory, expectant, lust-filled look, as if waiting to be instructed.

“I want you to look at me, Sweetheart,” I said, and instantly your delicate blue eyes locked onto mine.  “I want you to cum for me. I want you to cover my head with your silky, sweet honey so I can lick it out of your tight, pink hole.”

She bit her lip and, as if on cue, omitted a stifled little shout. I watched in mesmerized fascination as the storm raged in her eyes, and I wasted no time in retreating between her creamy thighs while the springtime sugar still surged from her pink blossom.

Just as my tongue took its rightful place, snuggly inserted into Mallory's sugary interior, an undeniable sensation came over me. A feeling of warmth and contentment spread over me from the tip of my tongue to my toes. It felt like that first time that the sun of spring warms you after a long, cold winter. It felt invigorating and energizing.

Her hips lifted off the bed slightly, almost involuntarily, just to meet the thrust of my tongue. I made my very best effort to extract every molecule of honey from Mallory’s little pink hive, and my level of commitment was very much appreciated.

I removed my tongue briefly. It was like taking a cork out of a bottle. The syrup cascaded from the base of her pink butterfly, there for my taking. I was only too happy to oblige. I moaned deeply while my tongue scooped up the river of kreme flowing from her pink pouch. I cleaned those delicate petals like cake batter from a mixing bowl, savoring each droplet.

After collecting my fill, at least for the moment, I stood back up and grasped the shaft jutting out in front of me. I caressed those carnival lips with the tip of my eager companion, which is something I never tire of looking at, before slowly inserting my cock back into her warmth.

Mallory emitted those adorably sexy noises rhythmically, with the slow thrusting of my beating drumstick.

“Look into my eyes, Pretty Girl,” I said. “I never get tired of watching that beautiful face when you cum for me.”

Her mouth was open, and still she managed a satisfied, naughty smile as she ceaselessly moaned.

“Okay, Sweetheart, it’s time for me to fill that hot pink box,” I panted, stroking her cotton candy colored playground. Do you want me to fill your little pussy, Pretty Girl?”

“Yes, Mister, yes, please,” Mallory breathlessly whispered, floating in her in-between place. “I want you to fill my pussy with your warm cream.”

Her words were entirely electrifying, and I took firm hold of her luscious hips, steadying her while I rhythmically gave her the length of my cock.

“Your beauty just defies description, Sweetheart. If you could only see what I see right now. The dreamy look in your eyes, your delicate pinkness hugging my cock, you look like art, like the definition of a woman.”

“Please, Mister, fill me up. I want to feel your warmth drip out of me,” Mallory pleaded.

I moaned deeply like an animal, and I withdrew myself until just the head of my cock remained within her pink grip. Mallory sharply inhaled and began shouting, “Ahh…Ahh…” in concert with each eruption of my cock. Her back arched, and orgasm snatched her away from this world. Her expression was that of intense release, and she moaned deliriously.

I removed my cock, and allowed the last of my offerings to land majestically on her sweet, sparsely covered mound.

Absent-mindedly, her fingers massaged my creamy deposit into her patch of down, and she brought her glistening fingers to her open mouth, eagerly consuming the vestiges of our passion.

*****************************************************************************************************************

When Mallory got out of the shower, I could tell at a glance that someone had gotten a haircut. I came up from behind her while she was looking in the mirror, and slid my arm around her lower waist.

“Well, well, what happened here?” I asked playfully, teasing her, and stroking her freshly shaved little mound.

Mallory blushed and said, “Oh, well, I thought just in case we went swimming, you know, I didn’t want any hairs sticking out.”

“Oh sure, absolutely,” I answered, stroking her warm skin. “Just in case we go swimming or something. You look super hot when you, ‘or something’, Sweetheart,” I teased.  “In that case, maybe I’d better shave too,” I added. “You know, those unsightly hairs can be a real embarrassment.”

“Stop making fun of me!” she said playfully.

“Gosh, I just love it when you “or something”, and you close your eyes, and your mouth opens just a little bit.”

“Honey! Stop it!” she protested. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Do you think I should send Dean a message so he can shave too?” I ribbed, getting into the shower. “So, are you anticipating a little, ‘or something' this evening?” I asked half seriously.

“No, I’m not planning on anything,” Mallory replied, being coyly indignant.

“Alright, so whatever happens, just happens. If you want any “or something’ or find that you’re in the mood for a little extracurricular activity, we could have a secret word or a phrase like, “The water’s really cold.”

“What are we, secret agents now or something?” she said, amused.

“It's a pool party, no one will notice,” I replied.

“How about if I say,” she started to laugh. “Or something? You know, like: Why don’t we go in the house or something?”

“That’s very clever,” I admitted. “I like it. ‘Or Something’ it is.” I added nodding in approval. “So, what’s the secret handshake?”