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Article 14 of 51

Subject:      FLORIDA HEAT 5/8
From:         rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date:         1996/11/11
Message-Id:   <5685ft$ar8@sjx-ixn2.ix.netcom.com>
Organization: Netcom
X-Netcom-Date: Mon Nov 11  1:23:09 PM PST 1996
Newsgroups:   alt.sex.stories

"DATING, OPEN-MARRIAGE STYLE"

By Ellen

                    After a year of our lifestyle, I'm still not
sure whether "open marriage" is the right term. When Bill first
suggested I date others, I found the idea appalling, but now I
love this arrangement. Bill hasn't shown any interest in
involvement with another woman, so this has been a one-sided
affair. What Bill gets out of these dates are the thrills of my
telling about my extramarital experiences.  I agreed to whatever
adventures Bill might dream up as long as these were no threat to
our marriage.  So one night we drove in separate cars to a local
live-entertainment club. I was wearing four-inch heels and a red
satiny oriental dress, baring my back to just below the waist and
slit to the thigh. I found a table in a dimly lit corner.  The
place was decorated with nostalgia gimmicks no one would want in
their home but somehow looked just right in the lounge.  I gazed
around the crowd and listened to the three-piece band's soft
music.

                    Minutes later, Bill walked in, sat at the bar
and ordered a wine cooler. He acknowledged me with a smile, then
turned away. He glanced back now and then as several men eyed me,
clearly with sexual intentions.

                    When I wear heels, some men under 6 feet
avoid making passes at me because of my 5'8" height. This was the
problem this night until a tall attractive man, his hair black as
my Bill glancing toward me from the bar. Attired in a dark blue
blazer, white polo shirt, and white tropical slacks, he turned as
I smiled quietly at Bill, not the stranger. But the man lifted
his drink, sauntered over to my table, and grinned, "With
anyone?"

                    I responded, "I am now, I suppose," smiling
as I appraised his blue eyes and lean physique. I aged him at 28.
He was wearing a white gold wedding ring like mine, but I
pretended not to notice, and so did he.

                    He squinted at me through the dimness and,
with a look of surprise, remarked, "I haven't seen anyone with
gray eyes in years!"

                    I smiled, "An inherited trait." I hear that a
lot.  There aren't many of us. When gray-eyed people see each
other, they silently smile in acknowledgement, just as I've been
told a young person with prematurely gray hair returns a smile to
another.

                    He gave me his name, Phil, but his occupation
gave me a start. He was a new attorney with the law firm that set
up Bill's corporation and was now advising Bill's office manager,
Steve, who runs the business side of Bill's engineering practice.
We engaged in small talk, complimenting the other until he
finally asked me to dance.  e dance floor, he held me closely.
Men from around the room looked disappointed that they hadn't
asked me first. The touch of his cheek brushing mine, as Bill
watched, excited me. By the middle of the second song, he was
gently pressing his groin against mine. I was fighting to control
my gasps as I felt his firmness growing beneath his slacks. My
face burned at his openly sexual gesture, but soon in excitation,
I was brushing my mound against his hardness. I could feel my
nipples tingling against the satin of my dress. He whispered, "Do
you have plans tonight?"

                    "Don't you have to go home?" I queried, my
voice trembling as I remembered his wedding ring.

                    "My wife's a pharmaceutical sales rep," he
said softly.  "She's in Chicago until Tuesday at her company's
headquarters gathering." He'd remembered my own ring and had no
reason to lie.

                    I allowed him to press me closer. His skin
radiated a heat like my own. The female singer's long, slow
melody of adulterous longing seemed dedicated to our entertwined
bodies. When it ended, I realized Bill and I hadn't planned this
very well. I lied, "My husband's at a convention. I have no
plans, Phil." We bantered about a bit as I tried to at to do
until finally he came right out with it, "Can we spend the night
at your place?"  His swollen cock was now massaging my clitoris.

                    I was breathing heavily, my eyes wild. My
throat throbbed fearfully, choked with increasing desire, as I
breathed, "I'd like to visit the ladies' room."

                    He nodded, saying, "I'll meet you  back here
in a couple of minutes."

                    When he walked through the crowd to the
cashier's desk in another room, I strode quickly to Bill,
explaining the situation. As usual, Bill was wonderful. He
grinned, "Great.  I'll drive over to the office and sleep on the
couch. If I come home about five a.m., will that be enough time?"
I agreed, and Bill returned to his drink as I waited at the door
for Phil.

                    We drove in separate cars. The late evening
streets were still wet from a brief Florida thundershower. The
Mercedes' diesel engine throbbed like my chest. Although I'd
slept with other men, this would be my first true "date." The
multi-colored lights of neon signs, street lamps, and a line of
cars streaming west to the suburbs cast long brilliant
reflections on the wet highway. I glanced back now and then at
Phil's red Fiero following closely.  pping at a traffic light a
block from the lounge, I stared at a Cadillac's bumper sticker
ahead of me and smiled. The bumper sticker read, "Lead Me Not
Into Lust, For I Shall Find It Myself."

                        We emerged from separate cars into our
garage. He murmured, "My god, I just noticed the name on the
mailbox! I know your husband, by name anyway!"

                    I laughed. "I told you my name at the lounge.
You didn't ask for my husband's. Don't be so up-tight, Phil!"
Actually, I was more tense than Phil, not from his association
with the law firm but from the desire that had grown with each
mile I drove home. Inside, Phil removed his coat, poured a drink
from our bar and searched out a diet soda from the refrigerator
for me. He walked upstairs to meet me in the bedroom.

                    I'd turned on the stereo and flicked on a
table lamp, bathing the room in a dim red glow that seemed to
accentuate my inner heat. I turned, my hands on my hips and legs
spread wide on the carpet as I faced him. He stared, his manhood
ulging beneath his slacks, and breathed, "God, you're
incredible!"

                    My breasts heaved as he set the drinks on the
nightstand and took me in his arms. He unzipped my dress,
puddling it onto the floor, then unbuttoned his shirt. I ly able
to stand as he grinded his hardness against my clitoris. I fell
to my knees and pulled away his slacks, his nine-inch instrument
bobbing against my lips as his fingers stroked my neck. I moaned
at his sensuous touch.  I was mesmerized by the dark,
purple-veined cock that I was now stroking, my hand squeezing it
back and forth from its black mass of pubic hair to the broad,
bulging head. I oval- ed my lips over the rubbery head, sucking
it slowly as he groaned, "Oh god, Ellen, you're terrific, oh god,
oh god..." My tongue slid along his length as his hips writhed,
pushing it beyond the back of my throat. The smoothness glided
through me until I was delerious with passion. I became one with
his cock and the throaty music drifting from the stereo. I flamed
with desire, my eyes wildly rolling up at him as I whimpered with
each stroke into the fullness of my quivering lips.

                    He leaned to cup my breasts, then kneeled
behind me as his strong hands kneaded the softness of my breasts.
I fell against his hands until my arms braced against the floor.
I shuddered as his warm cock brushed my flaming vagina from the
rear. I muttered, my voice quaking, "I'm on 'm yours!" My hips
gyrated, tremoring as his lengthy hardness entered my lubricated
channel. My vaginal walls stretched with each thrilling inch to
accommodate him.  And then he had sheathed the tool to its hilt
as my mouth opened widely, my eyes rolling with the adulterous
passion that gripped my searing soul. His long shaft radiated,
steaming in the hot coals of my cunt.

                    Wailing as he fucked me wildly, I swirled my
hips to his rhythm. I turned my head to watch as his hips bumped
against my buttocks, further inflaming my passion. Each entry
throbbed against my clitoris until, deep within, I could feel the
thunderous waters of an orgasmic flood rushing up to burst
through me. I began to cry, tears streaking down my cheeks. His
blue eyes glinted. He was biting his lip in excitation when I
felt his cock swelling.  He was about to come with me. He groaned
passionately. Our eyes locked. As his cock expanded within me I
spread my legs further as if I could somehow allow my vagina to
hold even more. I was biting the softness of my lower lip as I
cried, "It's super, Phil! Super! I LOVE it!" I reached behind to
touch his chest as his cock fucked into my hot, wet depths, which
were now a vortex of mega-lust that gripped the broad liding
through my love tunnel.

                    He increased his tempo. The building orgasm
was still distant but now rushing up like a mad prehistoric beast
screaming for air from primeval depths of a misty cavern.  The
earth opened before me. I was falling through a bottomless chasm
of adulterous pleasure with his every thrust, my mind enveloping
an unknown universe inhabited by only me and Phil. I shuddered.
The beast within was insane with pleasure. My whoring had now
spanned eons, all sense of time lost as I cried out frightfully.
I was praying for the oncoming super-orgasm but fearing I could
no longer bear the passionate explosion.

                    And then, OH GOD!  It rolled over us like a
landslide!  My mind and body exploded with staggering force!
Gigantic stars crashed as I screamed in ecstasy, feeling his warm
sperm splattering through my channel. The planet was quaking
beneath me as I sobbed in release from the bondage of this
adulterous love. Crying, I collapsed, tremoring beneath the white
heat of his body.

                    Later, in the afterglow, we drank wine,
watching erotic movies on our large-screen VCR from our bed
until, finally, he mounted me again, missionary position, fucking
me slowly.  ith a second, then third, then fourth orgasm, until
he came, shuddering atop me. Dazed, I muttered, "I love you," and
meaning it at that moment of gratitude. When he replied, "That's
nice," because Phil couldn't lie, I laughed and hit him softly
with my fist.

                    He left at three a.m. I dialed Bill's office.
When Bill was in bed beside me a half hour later, I described
Phil's fucking me just as I'm telling you here, until Bill's
manhood had risen and was eagerly entering my vagina. At times
like these, I almost feel a control over him. I moaned, muttering
my feelings of passionately fucking Phil as Bill thrust into me.
I could feel his tool expand to awesome proportions, until
finally, reliving my adultery, I came again.  Bill groaned, his
sperm splattering warmly into my vagina. We lay side by side
facing each other as I answered his questions about my feelings
when fucking other men. I admitted, "You lead me into these
situations, but once I'm united with another, I can think only of
him and me. Sometimes I forget I'm married." When his eyebrows
arched, I smiled, "But I still love you."

                    Exhausted, I fell asleep. When I awoke with
the sunrise, Bill was still looking down at me, grinning in
satisfaction.

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