Other Men's Wives

If you haven't already read it, see how things began in Part One . Rick met me for lunch at a fast food place near my work site. He talked a mile a minute, trying to keep his voice low despite his obvious excitement over the previous night's events. "That was so fucking hot. We couldn't keep our hands off each other all night." I knew. I heard them fucking while I dozed off and then again when my alarm went off in the morning. She was loud, and he was enthusiastic.  "I wound up going in to work pretty late. I shouldn't have gone in at all. Jeez, I'm still hard." I did a quick glance around the room. "Try to keep your voice down, will ya?" He nodded and I continued. "It was something. I would have never imagined her like that." "Well, that's a side of her I've never exactly seen either. I don't know what it is, but something about the whole thing just ramped us both up." "New experience. It's li

I hadn't seen Rick and Kate since their wedding. A few nights before that occasion, I saw Rick getting a blowjob from an eager stripper at his bachelor party, but other than that, he was as conservative as anyone I knew in college. He was soft-spoken, brainy, and rarely one to do anything to draw attention to himself.  When he introduced me to Kate I honestly hardly paid any attention to her. She was "cute" in that Velma from Scooby Doo way. She was nice, and fairly friendly, but not particularly sexy, she exuded the same serious intellectual vibe as Rick. They were a perfect match.  About three years after I wore an uncomfortable suit and stood in front of a church filled with strangers as they exchanged vows, work brought me to their part of the country. I reached out to him, hoping that we could get together for dinner. They insisted that I stay with them while I was there. It only took a little prodding. After all, I figured, putting the per diem in my pocket wouldn&#

 I met "Candace" and "Mitch" at a porn theater outside of Louisville, Kentucky. If you're interested in those details, I have spelled them out in my other blog . After that first encounter, I gave them my number and to my happy surprise, they dialed it a few weeks later.  I arranged to meet them the next time I was in their area for drinks and a no-obligation conversation. Frankly, I didn't expect much other than that. I was easily 20 years older than them, and he had been so quiet and withdrawn at the theater that I wasn't even sure what kind of conversation we might have. We arrived at the same time and the chat that began in the parking lot was predictably stiff. By the time we got to a corner booth, we had (mercifully) made it past the "did you have any trouble finding the place?" and "how often do you come to town?" pleasantries.  "Thanks for meeting with us," he began the transition. "Happy to do it. We didn't

 My upbringing was fairly repressed. Sex was dirty. Guys were perverts. Nice girls said no. So don't ask, don't look, don't touch, and don't even think about it until you're married.  Of course, like any other red-blooded guy, it was almost all I could think about from the minute I first laid my eyes on a discarded Playboy magazine. It was a frequent topic of conversation among my young friends. And, as the year's passed, I was as committed to touching any part of the female anatomy - and having it touch back - as any man on the planet. My ambitions aside, with the exception of a couple of poorly executed blowjobs and some uncomfortable finger fucking, my experiences as a young man were few. My first year of college afforded me a few bumbling opportunities to improve my skills, but honesty forces me to admit that I was far from a good fuck. And I had yet to experience one from a girl who knew much more about it than I did. I worked a couple of jobs the summer af