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From: m61500@aol.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: May the best man win-part 1 M/F adultery, penis size
Date: 1 Dec 1996 01:01:04 GMT
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Message-ID: <19961201010200.UAA05931@ladder01.news.aol.com>
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Warning- for adults only



May the best man win: M/F seduction, adultery, penis size

comments to M61500@aol.com


It had been a long day. But when I opened the door to my apartment and saw
my wife, lying on the floor reading, sidelit by the slanting early summer
sun, much of my frustration was wiped away. We had been married for ten
months now. I loved her more than ever. She was the reason I put up with
my job at a downtown consulting firm. For the practical need of paying her
grad school tuition, and to afford the apartment, which wasn t big, but
was nice. Just being able to support her was worth it.

Katherine lay on her side, head propped on her hand. Her thick pale hair
fell at an angle that shielded her face from view, but exposed her long
neck that had always seemed  a little too slender for her frame. Even from
across the room, I could make out the big cylinders of my wife s breasts,
encased in a tank top and squashed against the rug by her other arm. Kate
s long legs were folded, her full thighs pressed together and her ankles
entwined.

As I put my briefcase down and shut the door, Kate finished a page, then
shut her book and rose to her feet.  Hi Matt  she said,  why so late?  I
threw off my jacket and stepped forward to give her a quick kiss. I took
her by her hand and drew her down to sit next to me on the couch.

 I was enforcing the law. I had to fire someone for the first time today. 
 Not Susan or Jeff?  (his secretary and assistant, both of whom she knew
and thought were nice)
 No. That would have been terrible. This was bad in the opposite way. I
had to tell Eric Stern that he was out after 21 years. 
 Then it wasn t a surprise. You ve been saying that the boss has been
giving you more and more of his work over the past months. 
 Yeah, which makes it worse. I ve known they ve been grooming me- and went
along with it. The funny thing is that can t feel bad for him. He s
nearing retirement and will get some good money. And he s single and
already pretty rich- or at least has the trappings of it- the car and
beach house and other junk he brags about. 
 Not your favorite, I guess. 
 You re right, he s a jerk- selfish, reactionary- perfect for the business
world, actually, if he didn t piss a lot of clients off. But none of this
made it any easier to walk into his office and tell a guy who is old
enough to be my father... 
 He must be thinking  that you are a jerk. 
 I don t know. We talked for a long time. He has been expecting it, or so
he said. He s the kind of person who likes building himself up. So even in
this situation he went on about how he d be spending time at the beach,
watching girls  bounce around - apparently he has a limited idea of fun.
Anyway, like I said, we re not throwing him out the door; he ll stay on
part time for a few months, so even if he were mad, he can t curse and
blow up and stomp out the door for good. But it didn t seem like he was
hiding anger or anything. He asked about me and gave some advice. Its like
he turned the tables and was consoling me about work and being young with
debts and everything. He even asked me to play racquetball next week. 
 Will you? 
 Yeah. He wanted to go to some club, but I said you could get us onto the
University courts cheap. Do you mind?
 No. It is sort of weird that you...
 That I m acting like I feel guilty. I know, maybe it would have been
better if he had gotten mad. 

 There is no good way of firing someone  Kate said. But there was a smile
on her pretty, girlish face that dimpled her cheeks and put tinges of blue
into her cool gray eyes. Talking through things usually made me feel
better, and it was working now.  Come on, Dinner is still warm.  

And it tasted great. Katherine was a good cook. Not that she was a
traditional housewife, used to cooking for me every night. Far from it.
She was a 24 year old grad student, a teaching assistant in women s
studies and film, and a feminist. If her school schedule allowed her to
finish early, she did usually come home and cook, though. Kate was
introverted, and didn t socialize much. That was just fine with me. I
wouldn t come out and say it to her, but I liked the semi-domestic pattern
that we had settled into.

Later that night, I was sitting  and working in the living room. My wife
had gone to our bedroom a few minutes before. The apartment was quiet. I
heard her creak out of bed, open the door, and walk down the wood hall.
She stuck her head around the corner:

 Honey 
 Yes 
 Are you coming to bed? 
  A little bit later, I need to finish some work 
 Oh...  

Katherine stepped into the room. She was only wearing panties- white
cotton cut high at the hips. 
 ... I though we could, you know... You haven t done it to me in almost
two weeks.  She bit her lower lip, as she tended to do when not sure of
herself. 

And she moved her arms, which had been crossed over her chest, to plant
her hands on her hips. Her breasts swayed free, big and white, and long-
that was what was so extraordinary about them- that they were so full and
long, and still mainly firm. It was cold in the apartment, and her brown
nipples were erect and pointed at me, seemingly accusingly.

I looked at Kate, moving my eyes down from her chest (even though she was
my wife, I tried never to fixate; when we were dating, she had told me
that they were  embarrassingly large ). Anyway, there was plenty to
appreciate- her long, round, but not fat, stomach, pierced by the slit of
her bellybutton; her full hips; the prominent bulge of her mound beneath
her panties; her long legs.

She was right, I had been neglecting her in bed. I had never had a
particularly active sex drive, and the last few weeks had been tiring. I
got up and put my two hands on my wife s neck and kissed her.
 Its cold, Katie; I ll race you to bed 

She laughed and took off down the hall. When I made it to the room she was
sitting on the side of the bed, working her panties off her full, round
buns. Katherine peeled the cotton up and kicked it off, then swung her
legs under the covers, which took long enough to give me a view of the
thick, light brown curls of her large bush, and her vaginal lips that
flashed moist and pink between her white thighs. This was nice, because we
usually made love with the lights out, and I didn t see her nude that
much. Kate wasn t a prude, but she definitely wasn t an exhibitionist. As
a doctrinaire feminist, she often commented on the objectification of
women s body in movies and TV, so I tried not to comment on her body.

I turned off the lights and, pulling off my shirt, made my way over to the
bed.  Lights out suited me fine. I wasn t too proud of my figure. I was
tall, but somewhat scrawny, with a flabby rear end. And even turned on and
fully erect, as I was now, I m  not well endowed- on the low end of
average, around 5 inches. Kate has assured me she doesn t care or notice,
and that anyway,  It suits the sweet, gentle way you make love. 

I suppose I am gentle. We kissed and held one another. Then I got on top
of my wife, and she spread her legs slightly. I guided myself into her; my
dick slid in easily, and I started small in and out motions, all the while
continuing to kiss her. A few minutes later, I felt the pressure building,
and sped up my thrusts. Kate had just begun to move her hips in time with
me, and make an occasional purring noise; now she broke her lips free from
mine and whispered  I m not ready... can you.. 

But what happens, happens. I stiffened and ejaculated into her. I rolled
off her and started to apologize, but she put her finger on my lips and
told me that it didn t matter, that the important thing was that we were
together and that she liked me to hold her as she slept. After we took
turns in the bathroom, though, she turned her face away from mine and we
drifted off to sleep, bodies touching, but separate.

Next week: Wednesday at lunch Eric Stern drove me over to the university.
We parked on a street near the gym and walked over. There were students
passing by-- as we got out of the car a cute Asian girl walked past, and
Eric turned, blatantly, and watched her back recede. He must have been 
paying close attention to how she filled out her jeans, because he
commented:  what an ass. If only she had more up top.  He smiled and said 
Deep in my heart, I ll always be a tit man.  He laughed and elbowed me:  I
know you re a married man, but doesn t hanging around the campus with your
wife drive you wild from all the sexy little coeds on display? If I wasn t
over the hill I d.. hell, even as old as I am I bet I could get some of
them on their backs. 

This kind of talk always made me nervous. But I d agreed to entertain him
with racquetball  and I guess this was part of the price. So I responded
that  the only coeds I meet are my wife s students in her women s studies
courses. Some of them are pretty, but all I ever do is talk to them about
whatever angle of patriarchy they just went over in class- and that isn t
ideal for flirting. 

 Women s studies, eh. I study women, maybe not in a way your wife would
approve, but I study them! You should have seen me in the 70s and 80s. I
had feminists begging me to give them more of my patriarchy  he laughed
again.  But seriously: you can see that I m not great looking or anything;
I m sort of a runt. (He was short, about 5 4  , and balding; but he was in
good shape for his age- mid 50s- and energetic looking.) But I ve always
said that if I try hard enough I can- most guys can- get just about any
woman into bed. With feminists there two ways. Either you pretend you
agree with her view of the world, and half the time, she ll give you her
pussy as a gift in solidarity, or you convince her that screwing goes
against the social norms and is some kind of rebellion. Especially if you
re going after a married woman. 

Thankfully we arrived, and pushed through the door to the lobby. Katherine
was sitting on a bench, looking bored. When she saw us she stood up and
walked over. After the lecture I had just gotten, it was only natural that
I watched Eric as he watched her. My wife had her parka under her arm, and
was wearing a pale blue sweater over her favorite pair of old jeans. His
eyes were busy, with three noticeable stops- her face, down to her chest
(and yes, her sweater presented her breasts in two big bunches), then down
to the v of her jeans (yes, again, her  lips  were outlined by the tight
denim). Luckily Kate was watching me- she s not open with strangers, so
after a quick  hello  and a smile, she focused on me and said she would
check us in on guest passes.   

Eric, Mr. Stern, as I introduced him, asked Katherine if she would stay
and watch.  I play better with an audience, and I need to beat your
husband to get  at him back for giving me the heave-ho.  She looked at him
like  the last thing she expected was for him to bring up that awkward
issue, then tried to smile and said that  mark told me how bad he felt
that you had to go...  He interrupted:  He was just doing his job, anyway,
this was the best thing that could happen to me. I ll be free to have fun,
travel, date, maybe even take some classes- you students are an
inspiration.  

Anyway, she still  must have been flustered, because she agreed to stay
and watch us play. As we turned for the locker room, Kate said, in a
sarcastic voice,  may the best man win.  Eric responded  that s the way it
works, sweetie.   We went and changed quickly. He, I noticed, was
muscular, and you could tell now that he was out of a suit and into a
tanktop and sweatshirts. He was also- and this is embarrassing to say- big
between the legs for a short man. His sweatshirts left little to the
imagination, you could see everything from the outline of  his balls and
the head of his penis, to the length of his shaft that swung as he moved.
In the back of my head I was glad that Katherine was sitting behind us. 

Eric still played as much to her as to me. After hard fought points, of
which most he won, he would turn around and wave through the glass wall or
exaggeratedly mop his brow. Kate was sitting half way up the bleachers,
leaning back with her elbows on the row behind her. A couple of times she
waved back. Two games 15-10 and 15-8 losses, were enough for me. 

While I prepared to head for the lockers, Eric sprung up the bleachers to
where my wife was sitting.  not bad, hush. You should of played; you
probably would have put up a better fight than Matt.  Kate answered that
she had tried once, but  I couldn t even hold and serve the ball right,
let alone hit it back off the wall. It bounced too weird.  Eric lowered
his voice and said:  I d love to bounce balls with you and show you how to
hold them . But the acoustics were such that I could hear. He added, in a
louder voice,  so sure, if you ever want to learn racquetball, I ll have
time to try and teach you.  He walked down and joined me by the door to
the lockeroom, hitting me on the shoulder and joking  I ll even throw in
lessons for your husband. But seriously, this is what s great about being
retired. I have time to spare..  I could see that Kate, as she headed for
the lobby, was blushing, but smiling.

In the locker room he headed for the showers, I for the locker. (I don t
like showering in public) When he finished, he walked up, his towel
wrapped around his waste, humming. He said  your wife is really nice- and
beautiful.   Yeah, right on both,  I replied.  She looks like a model,  he
went on,  except models don t have bodies like that!  He was getting a
little too exuberant for my taste, and I was just about to change the
subject when I looked up from tying my shoe and almost got slapped in the
nose by his big cock. He had unwrapped his towel and was facing me in the
narrow aisle, pulling a shirt over his head. His dick was in my face and I
had to carefully maneuver as I quickly turned and slid down the bench,
grabbed my bag and left into the lobby. 

Katherine was waiting. I asked her what her plans were and she said she
was going to the library and would see me at night. I told her that I was
going to get a ride home and shower and then do some work at the
apartment, so I d be there when she got back. She was turning for the door
when Eric emerged, and, glowing  and bouncing on his feet, asked my wife
if she could help him register.  Register?, but you re not a student,  she
replied.  Yeah but I heard about these  adult education  classes that
sound good- in crafts and creative areas, art, that kind of thing. I have
a camera I never use and should learn about it. 

So before I know it, I m walking home and Eric and Katherine are heading
the other way to the registrars. I turned and watched them for a second.
From the rear they looked a comical couple; Kate s thick clogs made her
look even taller than her 5 10 , so she towered over him. Eric was talking
non-stop, as they came to a crosswalk and halted he touched my wife on her
arm, I suppose to emphasize a point; she leaned her head down towards his,
I suppose to hear better.

They faded from view and I left. That walk home was instructive: I went
through two stages: burning jealousy, then rational thinking. There were
two good reasons why nothing would come of Eric s crude hitting on my
wife: Eric and Catherine. He was twice her age, short, crude, sexist and
reactionary, and too aggressive. She was young, tall, beautiful, a
sensitive feminist who couldn t stand chauvinism, or show offs. Plus, she
was married- to me.

So I wasn t worried  that evening when I found out that Eric had signed up
for a photography class and would have an excuse to hang around campus.
When I asked my wife what she thought of him, she said that he was funny,
almost like a caricature of a lounge lizard type. 

Anyway, jealousy is a funny thing. It comes and it goes. Without any
incidents to fuel it tends to fade, except when you are in certain moods
the very absence of evidence seems like the most damning evidence of all.
Now I knew that my wife was an attractive, sexually desirable woman- a
real prize. I knew that men must be mentally undressing her every day. And
she must have her share of come-ons and pick up attempts. But the funny
thing was that I also knew that her very statuesque, smooth beauty tended
to intimidate men and protect her from much serious attention- as did her
shy personality. So the worries I had about Eric Stern were basically
unprecedented, which made them into the paranoid category, and made me
read something into nothing.

The nothing was that for a couple of weeks Eric hadn t talked to me at
work about Kate, hadn t called or stopped by when he was in for class, and
Kate hadn t mentioned seeing him on campus. Both Eric and my wife
independently seemed to be in good moods. I wasn t yet at the point that I
would ask them about one another out of the blue. I did ask Eric about his
photography class. He said it was going well.  What sort of class is it-
landscape photography, still life, studio...   I don t know the fancy
name,  he mumbled,  We learn technique in class Wednesday nights, then we
get the shots at home, or, or anywhere.  He was unusually reticent,
considering he loved to talk about himself, his expensive gadgets, etc.

I didn t think much more about it until the next Friday afternoon. I was
flipping through a university course guide of Kate s and go to the
continuing education/art section. There were a lot of different classes in
dance, painting, sculpture, music, as well as photography. I scanned down
the sessions. Photography 1, Photo 2 plus darkroom, Photo 301- cityscapes,
and then it caught my eye: 

 Photography 304- portraiture and the human form- Weds 8pm- 9:30pm... This
class will look at the history of human portraiture and develop students 
techniques in photographing the human form, including lighting and
positioning. Models provided for some in-class sittings. To fully create a
 portfolio, students will need service of model(s) outside class.
Registration requires signed consent form from adult (18+ years)
co-registrant. 

I picked up the phone and called university info for the extension of the
professor listed. Mr. Caldwell was in his office, and answered the phone.
I asked if photography 304 would be offered next semester.  Yep; it s one
of our popular classes.   Could you explain about the outside model- it s
not clear from the course guide.  
 Sure. We have a list of models willing to sit outside class for fees, but
that s usually not necessary. Around the department we call 304  cameras
for couples  because it attracts a lot of married couples or people who
are dating- its only natural that the shots they get of one another are
more natural and expressive than the pictures of our in-class posed
sitters 
 You mean nude shots? 
 Not necessarily, no one has to do nudes to finish the class, but for a
lot of them, its a fun spot. The classes follow a history of twentieth
century portraiture - here he read me a list of subjects like classical
posing, silhouettes, the artistic form, glamour photography, pin-ups 
Pin-ups?  I asked.  Yes, fifties type of stuff; real fun - I thanked him
and hung up.

My hand was shaking, but I tried to think. Had Katherine signed on as Eric
s  model?  If so, why hadn t she been attending the class; she had been
home, I was sure, on Wednesdays. Or was she just posing for him between
classes? If so, when, and more importantly, what kind of posing?


