It started out innocently enough I suppose, though nothing involving people, especially the people in this story, is ever really innocent.

The food is delicious. The wine is mellowing. The fire is warm. The flickering candles accent the features of the beautiful faces of my wife and coworker. My wife Lynn on my left, my coworker Stacie on my right, Stacie's husband, Dan, across from me. He, like I, like all of us, looks back and forth, left and right, but mostly he seems to look to his right, to Lynn. Hard to tell whether the flush in Lynn's round cheeks is from the flames, the wine, the spiced food, or the attention, but she is definitely tripping on the entire scene. When she gets into something she is really into it, focused, intense. An introvert sensor, the energy builds up in her, radiates from her small rounded self, even as she tries futilely to hide her desire; she is constantly on the edge of sexual explosion.

Stacie, on the other hand, is completely confident in her sexuality, exudes it naturally, eats with a feline grace that enthralls me. She too is amused by Lynn's antics, and her eyes and mouth flicker laughingly like the candles and the fire. I cannot help but imagine her languid and naked on the rug before the flames, sucking slowly on my cock the way she sucks on her pasta. She smiles at me as a piece of linguini slowly and agonizingly disappears into her mouth.

Again I look left. I am not the world's best counter, but I swear my wife has one less button fastened. I remember her dressing for this evening, fussing over what she was going to wear, slapping me away as I tried to kiss the back of her neck, completely engrossed in the task of clothing selection, choosing finally a light blue slightly fuzzy cardigan and tight black pants. I do not remember her being this fussy over previous outings with Stacie and Dan, but those were outings designed to ease our spouse's fears about our increasingly frequent business trips, mostly pizza lunches and museum trips with the kids, and tonight the kids are elsewhere. I do remember subtle flirting now that I think about it. Or maybe it was not so subtle, and I was just too engrossed in other matters.

Lynn rises to clear the table, leans forward, reveals cleavage, smiles. Smiles at who? Or is it just a general smile of self-appreciation? Stacie joins her, and they walk together the short steps into the kitchen, swaying side by side, Lynn's short dark curls bouncing, Stacie's long dark ponytail swinging. Dan has turned to watch them standing at the sink. I watch too, contrasting body types, the short curvaceous Lynn and the long lean Stacie. Dan smiles at me, nods, raises his glass. I raise my glass back. What, exactly, are we toasting?

We rise with the remaining dishes, joining our wives at the sink. Lynn bustles about preparing desert plates. I refill glasses. There is incidental but very noticeable contact as we bustle about, lingering hands, grazing hips, especially between people of similar heights and personalities. There is something in the air, that sense of chaos, that microsecond before the watched pot boils, when it is not yet boiling and yet has reached the point of no return.

I retire to one of the couches in front of the fire, luxuriating in the warmth, the glow, the wine, in each bite of the strawberry and cream concoction. Stacie joins me, sprawling on the rug, smiling up at me, eating slowly. I smile back, content. Dan sits on the opposite couch, leaning back, but not exactly relaxed. Even in repose he looks ready to spring into action, though I have seen him go from semi-tense to loudly snoring in a heartbeat. Lynn has disappeared, finally reenters, sits next to Dan, bending over again first. He raises an eyebrow. I raise one too. Even for Lynn she's being obvious. I shrug. The dancing flames are too hypnotic for me to care. I close my eyes.

Something is tickling on the back of my ankle. It is Stacie, grinning wickedly, making little "look over there" motions with her head. Lynn is finishing her desert, licing her lips, missing a bit of whipped cream on the corner of her mouth, one leg swung lazily across the couch, across Dan's lap. His hand is on her foot. Up her leg. Back down again. Thin black pants. Big hand for a short guy. Lynn, mouth open, hand playing with one of the last still-fastened buttons of the sweater, tongue flicking, around, and around, still missing the whipped cream. Dan reaching out to help, finger on the corner of her mouth, finger in her mouth. Lynn sucking the whipped cream off the finger, disengaging the last button, cardigan falling open, nothing underneath, pushing his hand down, Dan has half risen, hand on her breast, she is leaning back, pulling her to him, mouth on her breast. Have they forgotten we are here? She seems to almost notice us as he helps her with her pants, sliding them off, rolling off on the floor, mouth to mouth, hands to hips, Lynn on her back, legs up, Dan kneeling over her, Dan entering her.

He is big. She is taking him. Taking him for the first time. Stacie is crawling to them, all fours, naked beneath her skirt, cunt glistening, begging to be filled, Stacie inches from Lynn's face, Lynn turns, I can see the exquisite tears as Dan pulls out and pushes back, she is crying with the newness of it. Stacie kisses her, their tongues playing. I am hypnotized by the fire, by my wife, by Lynn's tight round swaying ass. I undress. It seems natural. I crawl after Stacie, who is staring intensely at Lynn's face. I mean to enter her from behind, but she sprawls on her back, legs spread wide, naked now, next to Lynn, hands between her legs, too turned on to wait. I am temped now just to watch, but I can watch while fucking. In a second I am inside her, just as her husband is inside my wife. Side by side. Stacie and Lynn. Starting at each other, smiling, tongues touching in midair.

So much to take in. The flames, the heat, the wine, the food. Watching my wife kiss another woman, watching her taking a new man inside her, watching her being fucked, sharing a first sexual experience with her. Fucking Stacie. Watching Stacie and Lynn being fucked together. Knowing that Lynn thinks she is watching me fuck Stacie for the first time. Marveling at how exactly we had imagined it, as we had first fantasized about it sitting, fully clothed, on the couch in Stacie's office during lunch as Stacie slid urgently up and down on my cock and again as we had planned it out, naked, on a large hotel bed, somewhere on the road, in the middle of the night, as I screwed her slowly, and luxuriously, from behind.