“Wait. Stop. Why is that light on? I think there’s someone in the bathroom.”

These are your words, but for them to make sense we need to go back a day or so.

I’m on a weeklong trip, and you’re home in bed, alone, bored.

You check out some of the classifieds on Craig’s list and just for fun, you scroll down to the personals. Lots of men seeking women, women seeking men, some men seeking men and a few women seeking women. There’s a category that looks like fun called couples seeking a companion. That sounds interesting, or does it sound promising? 

You click a few of the links and find a few that do look promising, or are they just interesting?

It’s only a fantasy, right? You wonder if the pictures are real. Are the couples even real? It doesn’t really matter, because you’re only fantasizing, right?

You wonder what would happen if you e-mailed one of the couples? That couldn’t hurt. It’s just a fantasy, and you’re just curious if they’re even real people. Hmmmm. What should you write?

You try something casual, “I saw your post and wanted to know if you’re still looking for a companion?” Before you hit send, you hesitate. 'This is just a fantasy, right? I’m not going to do anything, even if they do respond. Besides, they probably won’t even respond. Even if they do, no harm in e-mailing someone, right?'

After you hit send, you feel a little naughty, and realize that your nipples are pinging, which usually means you’re getting wet. You decide to check, and sure enough, you’re wet and horny and ready for some relief. You start rubbing yourself with one hand while you tease your nipples with the other. MMMMM. That feels good.

'Wait a minute,' you think. 'I’ve got plenty of time. No need to rush.' It’s been a while since you played with your toys. You go to your drawer trying to decide which one to use. 'Fuck it! Why not bring them all to bed?' Never know what kind of mood you might be in once you start playing. You pull out the I-Sex toy and remember it needs a USB power source. 'Perfect,' you think. 'I’ll plug it into my laptop and find some porn to watch. Even better, I’ll find some ‘couple needs a companion’ porn to watch.' It doesn’t take long to find a video you like.

As you’re playing with yourself and feeling like your first climax is about where it should be, your phone goes off indicating that you received an e-mail. Fuck! You were almost there, but now you feel the urge to check who’s e-mailing you. Besides, you have plenty of time to start over later, so you stop the video and grab your phone.

Shit! Someone replied to your e-mail.

“Hey, Sarah! This is Marcy. Grant and I just got your e-mail and wanted to let you know that we’re definitely still looking for a companion. We’d love to talk with you or meet you in person, if you’re available.”

'Uh, oh.' Your mind races. 'Now, what do I do? And, why did I use my real name? In fact, why did I use my real e-mail address? Now, they know who I am and how to reach me. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.'

It’s getting late, so you decide to go to sleep and decide what to do in the morning. Besides, you don’t want to appear too eager. 'Wait,' you think. 'I’m not actually going to reply, am I? Am I?'

You close your laptop and slide your toys to the other side of the bed. For some reason, you’re not horny anymore. In fact, you’re a little nervous about what to do next.

You wake a few hours later. You didn’t sleep well. Too many random thoughts going through your mind. Part of you wants to delete the e-mail and forget this ever started. But, another part (the naughty part), wants to see where this might lead. Besides, it’s just e-mail. It’s not like anything’s going to happen. You grab your phone to send a reply, but you’re not sure what to write. As it turns out, you don’t have to because Marcy has already written you.

“Hey, Sarah,

This is Marcy, again. When you didn’t respond, I thought you might be a little hesitant, which is totally understandable. I remember Grant and my first time meeting someone, and it can be a little unnerving. So, let me put your mind at ease. We can take this as far (or not) as you’re comfortable with. No pressure at all, ok! 

How ‘bout we just meet for dinner somewhere. We can get to know one another a little more, and if that’s the end of it, so be it. If we want to explore other options that would be cool, too.

Whatever you decide is fine with us. Remember, companionship can mean a lot of different things to different people. We’re just interested in meeting you and learning more about you. Write me back and let me know either way, ok?

Hugs,

Marcy”

What the hell have I got myself into, you think. You’re starting to breathe a little heavier and notice your hands are shaking a little. 'I wonder what would happen if I agreed to just meet for a meal. We could find a public place, and there’s no harm in meeting other people to enjoy a meal together.' Part of you believes this could be a bad idea, but the other part (the fun part) decides, WTF!

“Dear Marcy,

I’m sorry I didn’t write back sooner. You’re right about my hesitation. I’ve never responded to a request from a complete stranger, so I’m not exactly sure how this works.

Dinner sounds great. Do you have a particular place in mind?

Sincerely,

Sarah”

You’re not ready for “hugs” or anything else more personal, just yet, when the reply arrives.

“Dear Sarah,

So glad you wrote back!

Have you ever heard of Barlo’s? It’s on the south side of town near 5th avenue.  

Shall we say tonight at 7?

Hugs,

Marcy”

'Is this really happening? Am I going to go meet with a couple I’ve just met online? What the hell! It’s only dinner. Better than sitting around here eating leftovers again.'

“Dear, Marcy.

That’s one of my favorite places to eat. I love the tableside guacamole!

See you tonight.

Sincerely,

Sarah”

You decide to focus on the food, rather than the relationship for now. You’re still not sure how far to take this, but you are fairly confident that you can stop anything from getting too out of hand at a public restaurant, especially one you’ve been to many times. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? You meet a couple. Eat a nice meal and then part ways. There are worse ways to spend an evening.

Time drags by and you find it hard to concentrate all day. Your thoughts are a mix of emotions. Anticipation, excitement, fear, and many others you’re not even sure how to label. Finally, about 5: 30, you go to the closet and try to figure out what to wear. It’s only a meal, after all, so what does it matter, really? OK, you admit. It matters because you want to make an impression. What kind of impression you’re not sure.

You finally decide on something that would qualify as ‘casual business attire.’ Heels, nice skirt, and a professional blouse. You head towards the garage and for some reason go back to the closet and replace your professional blouse with something that looks a little nicer and reveals a little more cleavage. Might as well show off one of your best assets, right?

Wait a minute. Why are you showing off at all? It’s just dinner with people you don’t even know. Oh well, you’ve already changed once. No need in overthinking it. Chances are you’ll have dinner, pretend to have a good time, and then leave never seeing these people again.

As you get out of your car, you feel a little nervous and notice your hands and legs are a little shaky. Perhaps heels were not such a good idea. You walk inside Barlo’s and try to find someone who looks like the picture you saw online. Just as you’re starting to wonder if this is some sort of joke or if maybe the couple doesn’t really look like the picture they posted, you’re startled by someone coming up from behind you

“Sarah. Is that you?”

You turn around and recognize Marcy from her photo. She’s maybe an inch or so taller than you, nice brown skin, and deep dark eyes. It’s hard to tell because of the blouse she’s wearing, but she seems to be pretty well endowed. She’s wearing long pants and a loose-fitting high-collar blouse.

You’re having second thoughts about your wardrobe selection, afraid that revealing too much may send the wrong impression. Before you can think too long, Marcy opens her arms for a hug and you lean in to hug her back. Mmm. She smells nice. As her breasts briefly press up against yours, you feel a tingling sensation throughout your body, especially your most-sensitive parts.

She takes your hand and says, “Come on. Grant and I have a table over here.”

Grant stands and shakes your hand with a casual smile. He’s about five-feet-eight-inches tall with dark hair and blue eyes. A little heavy for his height, but not overweight. Fit, but not too muscular. It’s hard to tell, but you guess that they’re both in their early forties.

Grant’s drinking water and Marcy has a margarita.

“What would you like to drink?” asks Marcy.

“Is that a margarita?” you reply.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll have what you’re drinking.”

After your first sip, you feel that familiar warmth that loosens you up a little. The conversation is light and both Grant and Marcy are easy to talk to. Good listeners, with engaging, non-threatening questions. They genuinely seem like nice people who are interested in companionship. As you drink a little more, you seem to open up a little and ask them some questions. At some point, the meal comes and the food is delicious. You all talk about how much you enjoy the tableside guacamole, and Marcy winks at you when you both acknowledge how cute the server his.

“I’m right here, you know, and I can hear you,” Grant replies.

You all laugh, and it helps to put everyone a little more at ease. Near the end of the meal, the server brings you and Marcy another margarita. You protest, but Marcy insists.

“Let’s not let a good drink go to waste,” Marcy says.

“Besides, my designated driver will make sure we make it home safely, right dear.”

“Of course,” Grant says while lifting his water as a toast.

After the second margarita, you decide it’s time to leave, but as you stand up you stumble a little and Grant catches your arm. Heels were definitely not a good idea.

“You OK?” Marcy asks.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “But, I knew I shouldn’t have had that second drink.”

“How about you let Grant drive us back to our place, so you can sober up a little,” Marcy suggests.

“No!” you protest, perhaps a little too forcefully. No way, you’re going to a stranger’s home. You’re not that tipsy or that adventurous.

Based on their reaction, you think you may have hurt their feelings.

“I mean, I just met y’all, and you seem nice, but I’m not comfortable going to someone’s home right now,” you explain.

“That’s cool,” Marcy replies. “We can stay here as long as you need. We just don’t want you taking a chance driving right now.”

You sit back down and ask for a water. The mood seems a little more awkward now, and you’re beginning to regret this whole idea.

“Why don’t we drop you off at your house,” suggests Grant.

“No, thanks,” you say. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I live pretty far from here up in the next county, and that’s a long way for you to drive.”

“Nonsense,” says Marcy. “Besides, what else do we have to do?”

“How will I get my car home?” you ask.

“Well, I would offer to drive it, but I’ve had a couple of margaritas, too,” Marcy says. “I’m not comfortable driving right now. Let’s just get you home safely today, and we’ll worry about getting your car back tomorrow.”

That sounds reasonable and very kind, so you reluctantly agree giving Grant your address, so he can plug it into his phone. As you approach the car Grant opens the back door for you and helps you in.

Marcy says, “Scoot over, and I’ll keep you company here in the back seat. Grant can serve as our chauffeur, right?”

“More like your Uber driver,” Grant replies.

You’re in a comfortable place right now and not just because the leather seats in their Lexus are soft and luxurious. You really feel at ease with these two. They seem really, really nice and Marcy is getting hotter and hotter the more you look at her. Besides, she smells really good, and you’d like to confirm her breast size, which is hard to do with the loose-fitting top she’s wearing.

Marcy’s hand brushes against yours a few times while Grant’s driving. You’re not sure why but you extend your hand towards her, and she takes your hand in hers while she looks at you with deep, dark eyes. You smile and Marcy returns the gesture revealing a set of cute dimples and a genuine joy that comes from her eyes. You start to rub her arm a little and she does the same to your thigh. Oh my god, that feels sexy, especially as she rubs a little bit underneath your skirt, going just a little bit higher and higher each time.

“You girls seem awfully quiet,” Grant says.

“Shut up and drive!” you both yell at the same time, before laughing hysterically.

As you both lean forward laughing you almost bump heads and as you lift up your cheeks and then lips touch briefly. You look at each other, and you think this could really be the time you fulfill your bisexual fantasies. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, the pent-up excitement, or how good Marcy smells and looks, but you lean closer and start to kiss her. She kisses back and you start making out. You look out the corner of your eye and see Grant catching a glimpse in the rear-view mirror.

“Like what you see?” you ask.

“I’m not complaining,” Grant replies.

You close your eyes and go back to making out with Marcy. You feel her hand reach farther up your skirt, just barely touching your private area. Fuck! That feels hot. You moan and squirm a little putting more pressure on her hand, letting her know that you want her to go closer, deeper.  She happily complies and before you know it, she’s inserted a finger inside of you.

'Ohhhhhhhhh! That feels great.'

Keeping one finger inside, she gently uses her thumb to massage your clit. Just before you think you’re going to cum, she stops, smiles and kisses you gently on your neck.

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” she whispers.

You decide it’s time to check out those tits you’ve been wondering about, so you slowly pull her blouse up a little, and she doesn’t resist. In fact, she helps pull it all the way overhead revealing a beautiful pair of breasts cupped inside a lacy bra. You kiss her gently between her breasts and feel her arms move behind her back to release the clasp, allowing her bra to fall.

'Holy fuck!'

Those are some beautiful breasts, with nice thick nipples that are obviously aroused. You look up at her one more time as if asking permission to go further. She raises her eyebrows and breaths deeply indicating she wants you. You kiss her left nipple and gently suck it into your mouth. You reach your hand up and massage her other nipple between two fingers.

It’s amazing how she responds to you, as if you know exactly what she wants. What she needs. It feels a little like masturbation, except you’re pleasing another person instead of yourself, and it’s a lot easier with another woman because you share the same features, emotions, desires.

You’re not sure how long you and Marcy have been playing, but you hear Grant say that he thinks you’re almost to the house. Shit!  You’re turning down your street, about to head up into the drive. You totally lost track of time, space, and distance.

You and Marcy are both partially undressed, and you hope to God no one in the neighborhood can see inside the windows or wonder why a Lexus with a man driving is visiting. You look out the window, or try to anyway, and realize that you didn’t need to worry about anyone seeing into the back seat. The windows are fogged over.

Grant pulls up the drive, and you remember that you left your garage remote in your car in the parking lot at Barlo’s.

'Shit!'

Wait. You remember the keypad and try to put your coat back on and straighten your hair a little before getting out of the car, just in case one of the nosy neighbors is watching. You open the garage door using the keypad. As you key in the digits and see the spot where your husband normally parks, you pause and wonder, 'what am I doing? I know we both talked about this fantasy for fun, but I’m not sure he was serious when he said he would be OK with me finding a fuck buddy, much less a fuck-couple (a fouple)?'

You take a deep breath and realize there’s not a lot you can do now. You’ve just invited a couple into your home. Two people who were perfect strangers less than twenty-four hours ago. You instruct Grant to pull in.

“Are you sure?” Grant asks. “We’re perfectly cool just dropping you off and giving you some time to think about this before going any further.”

“No, I really like y’all and want to spend more time together,” you reply. “Please stay. At least come in and have a drink.”

“I have margaritas,” you say with a wink.

“I’m in,” says Marcy.

You take some solace in believing that you can just have a drink together, spend some more time laughing; perhaps playing a little more with Marcy, or whatever. There really doesn’t seem to be any pressure to do anything you don’t want to do. What’s the harm in spending some time with some nice people? Why do you still feel a little anxious? Perhaps it’s not about what they might coerce you into to doing, but rather what you’re willing to do in this quest of exploration and fantasy.

You lead them into the kitchen and Marcy remarks what a beautiful home you have. You turn to look at her and realize that she still has a disheveled look. Her hair’s a mess, lipstick on her cheek and neck. And, her blouse is kind off-kilter. You wonder if you look the same. You’re really not sure what to do now, so you break the awkward pause by offering a tour of the home.

You start in the back with the guest room.

“Do you get many guests,” Marcy asks?

“Not really,” you reply. “You’re the first in a long time.”

“Well, maybe we can visit more often if you like.”

“I think I’d like that just fine,” You say.

But, you’re wondering where this is going, and not so sure you want a long-term relationship with anyone.' Why the fuck am I thinking about a long-term relationship,' you wonder. 'We don’t have a relationship now, and I’m not sure I want one. I’m not even sure what this is?' You must have an odd look on your face because Marcy looks at you with a raised eyebrow, which is actually kind of sexy. You shake your head and continue the tour walking through the living room, kitchen and upstairs.

“Love the pool table,” Grant says. “Maybe we could play sometimes. I used to be pretty good back in college, but it’s been a long time.”

“Have you ever played strip pool,” Marcy asks?

“What!” you exclaim a little too defensively.

“Sorry, I just remember a time that Grant and I played strip pool with a couple. It was a lot of fun.”

Grant interjects, “She may not want to hear about that, sweetie.”

“No, it’s fine,” you reply.

You never answer the question, but you have a mental flashback to the times you have played strip pool, including the last time you lay out on the table, naked with your legs spread wide ordering your husband to, “eat my pussy, bitch!” You get a little turned on just thinking about it.

You head back downstairs and walk into the bedroom which you saved for last. Not sure why, but it seemed like the logical thing to do.

“Love the bed and love the furniture in here,” Marcy says.

“Thanks, just wait until you see my favorite and most-recent project,” You say as you lead them to the closet.

“Wow! I’ve never seen anything like this. Is that sheepskin. And, a chandelier!”

“Yep.”

“This is amazing!”

You turn around a little too quickly and bump into Marcy almost touching faces nose-to-nose. You giggle and both say sorry at the same time, making you both laugh a little harder.

“OK, you two,” Grant admonishes. “Settle down before you get something started again.”

“You’re no fun,” Marcy says.

“That’s not what you said last night!”

“Hey, that’s not fair. I was turned on after we got Sarah’s reply.”

“Really?” you interject.

“Fuck, yeah. I couldn’t wait to meet you, which is why I sent that follow up e-mail. I’m so glad you said yes.”

“Me, too.”

There’s another awkward silence.

“Hey. I forgot to show you the hot tub,” you say.

“Hot tub! We love hot tubs, and I’ve been trying to get Grant to buy one for years.”

“We love ours,” you add. “Too bad y’all don’t have any swimsuits. You could hop in.”

“Do we really need a swimsuit? Is that your requirement, or is it a neighborhood or county ordinance?” Marcy asks teasingly.

“Actually, my husband and I often get in without swimsuits. I guess there’s no reason we couldn’t do the same, as long as y’all are comfortable doing so.”

“I’m good with it,” say’s Marcy.

“I don’t know,” Grant says. “I’m a little shy.”

“Bullshit! Get your clothes off and join me in the hot tub,” Marcy says.

You don’t feel comfortable watching them get undressed, so you excuse yourself by saying you’ll go get the margaritas ready and join them in the hot tub.

“Towels are over the tub, so make yourself at home,” you say over your shoulder as you exit the bathroom and scurry into the kitchen.

'WHAT. THE. FUCK. AM. I. DOING?'

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and your mind is racing so fast you can’t keep up with the thoughts flying through your head. Yesterday, I had never met these people, and today they’re in my bathroom getting undressed about to get into my hot tub completely naked.

'Before today, I’d never kissed a girl, although I’d fantasized about it a lot. Now, I’ve not only kissed a girl, I’ve made out with her and sucked her nipples, while she fingered my pussy. What else do I need to do to complete this fantasy?'

Just thinking about that make out session on the ride home, gets you horny again. So, you hurry up with the drinks and head out to the hot tub. As you step out on the back porch you see Marcy bent over with her ass on the jet and Grant teasing both her nipples in either hand.

“Am I interrupting anything?” you ask in jest.

“Not at all. Please join us.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you say as you place the drinks on the chest next to the hot tub.

You go back into the bathroom, undress, and wrap a towel around you.

You peek out the blind and see that Marcy is sitting on Grant’s lap on the far corner of the hot tub. You’re not sure if they’re fucking or if they’re just enjoying the mood. Not that it really matters, but you’re not quite sure you should interrupt them if he’s got his dick inside of her.

You open the door loudly to make sure they notice, and they both stop whatever they were doing and look at you.

As you step into the hot tub you say to Marcy, “I see you found my favorite jet.”

“Oh, my fuck! That felt great,” Marcy replies.

“Yeah, I like it, too, and my husband does the same thing to me that Grant was doing to you with my nipples.”  

You sit as far away from them as you can in the corner of the hot tub nearest the house.

You feel a foot on yours, and you’re not sure if it’s Marcy or Grant. You’re also not sure if it matters. Actually, it does matter. Playing with Marcy is one thing, but you’re not sure if you really want to be with another man. That might be a level you’re not comfortable with. At least not, yet.

Marcy points her finger to you and gestures to come here. You take a deep breath and slide over brushing your hand on her pussy and up to her breasts while using your lips to softly kiss her neck and ear. You lean against her in a way that your nipples touch hers and slowly slip your fingers inside of her.

“MMMM. That feels good,” Marcy moans.

“You like that,” you whisper?

Marcy nods and moans again.

You feel a hand massaging your back and barely touch your upper ass. It feels too hard to be a woman’s and for a moment you panic. You look up and see Grant smiling at you. You smile back, but as he moves in to kiss you, you move away rather quickly. 

“I’m sorry,” Grant says. “Did I overstep my boundary?”

“No, no,” you reply. “I just want to take this slow for now.”

'Take it slow, my ass,' you think. 'I’m naked in a hot tub making out with a couple I’ve known for less than twenty-four hours. That’s not exactly taking it slow.'

“Can you show me how you use the jet,” Marcy asks?

“Sure,” you reply.

You back up against the jet and realize that it’s not even half the force you’re used to.

“We need to turn this up a little, girl,” you say to Marcy.

You make the adjustment and just start to get your pussy backed up in your favorite position against the jet when you see the bathroom light flip on.

“Wait. Stop. Why is that light on? I think there’s someone in the bathroom,” you whisper.

'Is my husband home from his trip early?'