WARNING: This is a story for adults. If you are under 18, please
stop reading immediately.

This story may be archived but is not to be distributed without
the name of the author, changed in any way, or sold. Copyright
1998 by Jane Urquhart. Completed 3/14/98.

NOTE: This is the second in a series of stories about my
adventures. The first was "Janey's January." Later stories
sometimes refer to earlier ones, but may be read as standing
alone. My web site is at
http://www.asstr.ml.ord/~Jane_Urquhart				



 JANEY'S FEBRUARY

by Janey

	Florida is all right in the spring and fall, but nobody goes
there in the winter--it's too crowded! (Apologies to Yogi
Berra.) Nevertheless, when Bob said we could get a free four-day
trip to Sarasota to attend some medieval history conference I
wasn't entirely against it. I can always get a few days off from
work, and the weather in Boston was dreary, as usual, even
though there wasn't any snow left on the ground. Then the
Weather Channel showed a picture of Florida that looked like a
volcano erupting--big orange blobs all over the state--and I got
less enthusiastic. Florida in the rain is the pits. If you can't
get to the beach, or at least a swimming pool, what's Florida?
Strip development. Yuck! Still, when his mom, who lives in
Belmont, said she'd be delighted to house sit and take care of
the kids, I gave in. Bob seemed to want to go, so what the hell.

	Naturally I told Beth we were going, and then things got
complicated. Beth said she and Steve ought to go with us--they
could be with me while Bob was at the conference, and we could
explore the area. She said there are some great birding places
just outside Sarasota, and it would probably be warm enough to
picnic at least part of the time. I don't know if you heard, but
our January was pretty weird. Beth is my best friend, but we got
rather more intimate last month than I'd ever dreamed we would.
I mean we were spending time with each other's husbands in
different hotels. (See "Janey's January.") I don't know how much
more intimate you can get than that. Well, I didn't then.

	Beth is kind of a take-over type, and I tend to go with the
flow, so of course she immediately decided that we could all
stay at the Holiday Inn on Longboat Key--Steve had a bunch of
air miles or whatever you call them that would pay for all of
us. It's only half an hour from there to the college where Bob's
conference was going to be, so it would work out fine.  Steve
travels all the time--he's in the oil bidness--so he gets all
this free stuff. Bob thought it would be a great idea. He said
he likes the beach, but I don't remember his being so hot for it
anytime before. I had this sneaking feeling that maybe he hadn't
quite finished with Beth after all. All this efficient arranging
in such a short time kind of bemused me, but, after all, I was
only along for the ride. Even if it rained part of the time, it
would probably be a lot better than slouching around Boston all
wrapped up against the cold .

	Anyhow, we finally flew to Tampa, rented a car and drove down
to Longboat. Beth and Steve had already been there for a day and
had gone to the Pelican Man's place, where you can see all kinds
of hurt birds and animals recuperating, and the Mote Marine
aquarium. We got in about 10 o'clock, had a drink with them,
called Mama, and then toddled off to bed so Bob could get to his
conference by nine the next morning.

	Well, he did, and I spent all day lying around by the pool,
swimming and reading the first of my mystery hoard. I took along
all six of Mollie Hardwicke's Doran Fairweather mysteries--got
them at Spenser's Mystery Book Shop and saved them for a trip
like this. Doran's kind of weird and unstable, but I never mind
spending time in England as long as I don't have to live there.
Bob got back around two and joined us. He almost relaxed. Bob is
a workaholic, and I'm used to it, but it's nice when for some
reason he cuts loose. Naturally that meant he slept most of the
afternoon, but what the hell, he needed it. 

	Beth showed off her new bathing suit, or, maybe, Beth's new
bathing suit showed off Beth. She even got wet, probably to give
everybody a better view of her nipples. A lot of the pool
loungers enjoyed the show. Fortunately, I've long since gotten
over competing for attention with the cuties. I figure my body,
which is 5" 10" tall, well muscled and nicely rounded, is meant
to work for me, not to advertise bathing suits. My hair is sort
of dark blond, and curly so it looks like a mess all the time.
My face won't launch any ships, but some people like it. Let's
not talk too much about boobs. And I can outswim any of the
cuties any day, if necessary. I did notice a few of the guys
gazing at me when they could take their eyes off Beth, and of
course I didn't mind that at all. They weren't much to look at
themselves, as far as I was concerned. Several sleazies and
numerous wrinklies.

	We got enough dressed to go to the Gulf Drive Cafe, where you
can eat on an open porch right by the beach, then came back to
the hotel to watch the sunset. When I've spent December and
January and half of February in Boston and I find myself
someplace warm, I don't mess around--I soak up every bit of sun
available. I could feel the vitamin D.  We talked about our jobs
and made jokes about Monica Lewinsky and had a couple of  drinks
and it was bedtime. Bob was tired, too, even though he'd slept
half the afternoon, and he had to give a paper the next morning.

	The weather forecast was iffy. There was this zillion-gallon
pile of crud off the coast; if it came in, we'd get wet; if not,
it would only be gray. So Beth and I decided that if it wasn't
raining when we got up, we'd go to St. Armand's Circle, where
all the fancy stores are, and shop. Steve was going to plug in
his laptop and sell oil to some Arabs or something. Bob, who was
leaving early to make his conference, would pick Steve up and
they would meet us around one.

	No rain in the morning, so off we went. Beth being crazy, she's
great to shop with.  At  her office she wears her accountant
suit--the whole dress-for-success thing--and sensible heels and
hair tastefully arranged and a little red scarf at her neck to
indicate she's still aware she's a woman. Not that anybody else
would miss it for a minute. But once she's out of there she
might look like anything, as long as it's wild. Hippy clothes,
sweatshirts and baggy shorts, saris, you name it. No matter what
she wears, she's five-foot-two of sex bomb. Long black hair, a
figure I'd kill for, red, red lips, that little hook in her
nose, her olive skin--she gets stared at all the time. She loves
it. When we're together,  I'm so tall compared to her that I
look like maybe the porter she brings along to carry her bags.
Except we laugh all the time and either make the clerks nervous
or make them think we're long lost friends of theirs.

	Beth and I were delighted with our loot--I'd even bought a new
bathing suit, which led to major convulsions on both our parts
and weird looks from the other customers when I tried it on and
put on my discus thrower act. Beth has a strange effect on me;
most of the time I'm a prim, if large, suburban matron, but with
Beth I get almost as nutty as she is. 

	So we fell into chairs at the Hungry Fox at one o'clock,
lumbered with bags full of perfume and T-shirts and knickknacks.
It was getting darker all the time. Steve and Bob showed up five
minutes later. Bob was high because they liked his paper, and
Steve was happy because he'd figured out a new way to bilk some
third-world government.  	

	Just as we started to eat our hamburgers, the rain came. There
we were, on the open balcony on the second story, looking out at
the bougainvillea getting its petals knocked off, palm branches
floating around the circle, and shoppers running for cover.
Fortunately, we weren't on the rail, so we could enjoy it
without getting wet. It did, however, make the afternoon of
beach bumming we'd hoped for look unappetizing. So as we ate we
started talking about what we were going to do. Bob kind of
wanted to hit the bookstores on Main Street in Sarasota. Steve
wouldn't have minded getting back to his computer, and, of
course, I had Mollie Hardwicke to entertain me. Still, Florida
in the rain is basically the pits.

 	Finally, Beth wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin and
said, "Or-----we could go back to the hotel and fuck each other
a lot."

	I cringed and glanced at the nearby diners. Nobody looked
shocked. Bob put his sandwich down and stared at her. Steve just
ate.

	"Well?" she said.

	Nobody said anything for a minute. Sorting out my thoughts, I
finally discovered that I was a little curious about what she
meant.

	"I don't do women," I said.

	Steve stopped chewing, looked at me thoughtfully, and said, "I
do."

	"Me, too," Bob piped up.

	Beth actually giggled and said to me, "You're not my type,
honey, but we have these two guys here and I think we could
probably manage to enjoy ourselves some way, don't you?"

	The rest of us all masticated thoughtfully.

	"You've already got some books, Bob," I said finally. I could
see how the wind was blowing. and Mollie would wait.

	"Let's do it," said Steve, "but first why don't we just have a
nice cup of coffee and consider the possibilities?"

	I was way ahead of him. By the time the coffee came (tea for
me), I was thinking about a threesome I'd found positively
weird, but quite satisfactory, when I went to Europe right after
I graduated from college. I must tell you about that some time.
Then I realized that I had already sampled the two perfectly
adequate penises (dicks? dorks? cocks? no matter) that were
going to be on display and found them eminently satisfactory.
Also, I never had watched a really accomplished woman in action,
and that might be interesting. I found that my face was getting
warm and my vagina was beginning to get a funny empty feeling.
This has been known to occur at other times when I was just
beginning to realize that pretty soon it would be filled.

	"You know," said Bob, looking at me, "I have occasionally
thought about such a thing before." I was amazed. Either we had
failed to communicate fully for the past ten years, or Bob's
little fling with Beth last month had opened new horizons for
him.

	"I didn't think it was likely, or even desirable, really," he
continued. "Can't you see me putting an ad in the Tab or
somewhere, saying, 'Very tall couple interested in swinging?'"

	"You mean," I said, "that since you don't have to spend money
on an ad it will be OK?"

	"No, I don't," he said, giving me a dirty look. "I mean, you
remember when Steve said whenever he thought about the girls in
Indonesia his equipment shrank up or something? Well, the same
thing happens to me when I think about the wives in Needham.
Horrors. We'd both catch something awful and at best my dick
would turn black and drop off. But this is different. Very."

	Suddenly we all talked at once and it was clear that everybody
agreed with him. Secretly we were all petrified of AIDS or
herpes or something.

	"Actually," I said, "I really didn't think about doing this
before. I am a nice girl. But I am a nice girl who is about to
do something she never thought of before."

	"Let's get out of here," said Beth. "Steve and I will expect
you guys in our room in about an hour. We have some deli stuff
we got at Whitney Beach for if anybody gets hungry. And beer and
wine." So Bob put some money on the table and we headed off for
our cars, hurrying through the downpour.   

	We got wet. I was cold, of course, so as soon as we got in the
car I took a T-shirt out of one of the shopping bags and dried
my face, hair and arms as best I could. Bob glanced over at me
while we were squishing down Gulf Drive.

	"You win my wet T-shirt contest anytime," he said. I blushed. I
really did, even after that lunch conversation. Then we pulled
up in the parking lot, and got wet again going to our room.

	"What does one wear to a small, informal orgy?" I asked,
toweling my hair once again.

	"Clothes," he answered. "We should have gotten a suite." He was
taking stuff out of his briefcase and shifting it to a suitcase.
I think he was in denial, as all the smartasses say these days.
I rummaged in my suitcase and got out my nice almost-new
Victoria's Secret undies, went in the bathroom, took a shower,
and put them on. Then I put on the only dress I had with me, a
kind of nice cotton sun dress with a V-neck and a very full
skirt that I'd brought just in case we wanted to go some place
fancy to eat. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I
figured I'd better start out looking my best. 

	When I came back into the room Bob looked at me and said,
"You're lovely! If we don't get over there fast I'll ravish you
right here." Sometimes he says really nice things. Not often
enough, but sometimes. He stripped and went in to shower. I
avoided looking at him and got out my gold hoop earrings and a
shell necklace. Like me, Bob is tall for his age, about
six-three, and looks like Gregory Peck in that movie with the
little girl. He's 35, he just got tenure at one of our better
local universities, and he works all the time. I just work
part-time as a vocational counselor, but our two kids and
running the house keep me from missing him too much most of the
time. I wondered whether I ought to go jump in the shower and
fuck him to death right here and the hell with Beth and Steve.
But I'd agreed, so forget it. Thinking of Steve, I wondered what
I'd do if I had him and Bob all to myself. I decided I must be
getting as nutty as Beth. By the time Bob came out dressed in
khakis and a clean T-shirt I was ready go, wearing my flat white
slippers and my pretty dress and shaking like a leaf. Bob came
over and put his arms around me.

	"Sure you want to do this?" he asked.

	"I think so," I said. "If  you do?"

	"We said we would," he said. "Oh, hell, let's be honest. Yeah,
I want to." He gave me a nice, long kiss. 

	"I'm ready," I said. "Let's go beard the tigers."

	It took only a minute to reach their door. Bob knocked. Beth
answered. She was wearing toreador pants, of all things, with a
ruffled gold, long-sleeved blouse, white stockings and
pointy-toed little shoes. All that black hair, still half wet,
was piled on top of her head. I was glad I'd put on my dress.
Not that I was competing, I just looked like I'd tried.

	"Ah!" she said, smiling brightly. "Come into my parlor."

	Their room was just like ours--two double beds, a dresser, two
comfortable chairs and quite a bit of open space. Steve, dressed
just like Bob, was sitting on one of the beds. He jumped up and
ran a hand through his short blond hair and he smiled, too. 

	"How about a drink?" he said. "It's nice of you to come visit
us little people." He's not much bigger than Beth, maybe five
six or seven, built like a 150-pound wrestler.  I think his size
makes him compete so hard in business. I'd already told him he
was plenty big enough, in every way.

	Beth was back in the bathroom. I sat down in one of the chairs.
Bob sat on a bed and Steve brought him a Perrier and me a glass
of red wine. He knows what we drink; we'd been sailing together
and played monopoly and generally hung around with him and Beth
for more than a year.

	Then Beth came sailing in. "Enough with the booze," she said.
"It's time to get naked!"

	I grinned weakly. Steve and Bob looked at each other, and Steve
turned a hand to show that he couldn't control her, either.

	"Somebody has to take charge here," she said, " and since I'm
the only executive on the premises that'll be me. So--Guys
first!"  She plumped into the other chair and looked at me. "If
we go first, they'll  probably forget to take off their shoes or
something."

	Steve looked at Bob, who was slack-jawed by this time, and made
a face. Then he stood and slowly began pulling his T-shirt over
his head. Bob stood and followed suit. Both of them
self-consciously slipped off their flip-flops and tossed them
into a corner.

	"You ladies sure you can control yourselves?" Steve said as he
undid his belt.			I was beginning to think I was going to enjoy
this. "I think we'll manage, Steve," I said. "Please continue."
Here Beth and I were, sitting calmly looking at two nice male
chests, Steve's criss-crossed by big muscles with yuppie names
like laps and traps or something, Bob's sleek and smooth. Beth
laughed.

	Of course Steve wore jockey shorts and my husband boxers. They
got out of them without looking any sillier than usual. Eh,
voila! The Full Monty!

	"Nice," said Beth, "don't you think?"

	"Y-e-s-sss," I said, "but they both look like the main brace
needs splicing."

	They did. Beth jumped up, went over to Steve, knelt down and
grabbed his slightly droopy weapon. She stuck the end of it into
her mouth and I could see her tongue moving for about 30
seconds. Steve reached for her head and she slapped his hand
away. Then she backed off, turned to Bob, and did the same
thing. 

	She looked up, shifting her eyes from one to the other. "What's
it take to turn you guys on, anyhow?" she said. Bob reached for
her and she scuttled back to her chair. "Now, now, there's
plenty of time and lots more to come. So you just take it easy.
It's our turn now." The appurtenances in question seemed to be
growing. Having never seen anything remotely like this, I was
fascinated, stuck to the chair. But getting warm, all the same.

	"Now, I'll go first, since Janey seems to be mesmerized by the
scenery," Beth said, standing up. She looked down and starting
working on the top button of her frilly blouse. The boys
watched, closely. So did I. She worked her way down slowly, a
button at a time, looking up to smile as each button let go and
more Beth peeped out. I could see a bright red brassiere with
black lace around the top edges and cleavage that looked like a
crevasse in the Alps. I glanced at the men and by now they were
both standing at the ready, gawking at Beth's chest.

	With a whoosh she pulled her shirttails out and shook her
shoulders, letting the blouse drift to the floor. The lace
extended around the bottom edges of her bra, and the cargo
looked heavy. Beth then snapped her tiny belt buckle and
starting loosening those ridiculous pants. More red nylon
appeared. Steve and Bob were not drooling yet--I checked.

	Then she kicked her little shoes off. She zipped and worked on
the pants, pulling them inside out to get them down. Red garters
appeared. I could not believe this. In seconds she was standing
there looking like the Mona Lisa in bra, panties and long white
stockings. She sat down and stuck her legs up in the air.

	"Anybody want to help me lose the stockings?" she said.

	The herd stampeded. My husband was at her left, fumbling with
the hook and eye on the garter. At her right, Steve was looking
down at her soulfully and gently stroking the inside of her
thigh above the stockings.

	"Hey, Steve," she said, "that's nice, but it won't get the
stocking off."

	This show was something to see, but it was making me nervous.
Tough act to follow. But Beth is a caring woman--it turned out I
didn't have to worry.

	Scolded, Steve stopped fooling around, undid the garter, and
rolled the stocking off. Bob finished a second or two later.
They backed off and ogled the strands of black hair visible down
by the mound in Beth's bikini pants. By now there were two big
flagpoles flopping around. I was afraid they'd poke somebody's
eye out.

	Beth sat up straight and said, "OK, Janey, get up and let's see
what's to see."

	I pushed myself up out of the chair. Showtime. Oh, well, I
didn't think the audience would actually boo.

	I took off my big earrings and unhooked the necklace, then laid
them on a night table. Then I shamelessly stole Beth's button
act and gradually opened up the top part of the dress, smiling
at the ravening monsters, whose eyes were now on--ta-da--ME. My
belt was a gold rope hooked in the front. Unhooked, it dangled
by my sides. Just as I was about to reach down for my skirt,
Beth spoke.

	"I don't see how she can get that dress all the way over her
head without help," she observed.

	The helpers turned up in a nanosecond, Bob on one side and
Steve on the other. On each side, fingers moved to my skirt and
gradually began pulling toward my shoulders. I could imagine
more and more bare leg appearing. It felt good. Something
whacked me in the hip and I looked down to see this one-eyed
man-handle staring at me, so I gave it a little caress. Steve
stiffened as if I'd shot him, then went back to raising the
dress over my hips. All sorts of surreptitious touches just
accidentally happened. They wasted no time in getting the dress
over my head and tossed over on the bed. Beth knows things. I'd
never been undressed like this before, and it made me feel like
a queen. Also, excited.   

	I stepped out of my slippers. Bob actually went over and picked
up the dress and hung it on the closet door. I stood there in my
nice bra and panties and waited for orders.

	"I think she still has too many clothes on," said Beth. "Why
don't you guys take 'em off?"

	Oooooh! Now we're getting serious, I thought.

	Steve, having been taught under other circumstances, knew to
reach for the little hook in the front the bra. He was on it
like a duck on a Junebug. (I notice that when I get in
circumstances like these my language reverts to that of my
origins. So far I haven't started singing "Dixie" in the middle
of operations, but I've had the urge.) Flip, and the boobs were
flopping in the breeze. I wish. Actually they were just sort of
sitting there up against my chest, small mounds of flesh that I
had been told were quite nice to use for things other than their
primary purpose even though they weren't huge. They worked quite
well for the primary purpose, too. So why complain?

	"You can each have a little taste, if you like," said Beth.

	By the time I thought that maybe that should have been my line
rather than hers, I thought I had twins grabbing a quick lunch.
But the heavy-duty shocks kicked in and I didn't care whose idea
it was. Just about the time my knees began to buckle, Beth
yelled, "Enough!" and the nice mouths disappeared.

	But the hands came back and the beautiful flimsy pants were
down around my feet. Bob reached down and took them away,
stopping for a careful look at what he had just uncovered.

	"My turn!" said Beth. "And I'm not going to wait for you guys."
Her hands moved like lightning and a pair of beautiful 36Z
breasts appeared from under the red covering. Then knickers,
gone.

	Four naked people standing there grinning. 

	I assumed a September Morn pose, using one arm to cover the
boobs and a hand over the, ugh, bush, one knee slightly bent.
They were on me like Turks on the Armenians, Beth with them,
grabbing my arms and pulling them away. I was laughing like hell
and struggling mightily. I could handle the two runts with no
trouble, but Bob is bigger than I am and stronger than he looks.
I found myself pinned down on the bed by three giggling weirdos.

	"OK, you guys," Beth said, "Now I want to see some real
tit-sucking, if her highness is willing."

	Her highness was. I stopped wriggling and relaxed. And some
real tit-sucking began. Both sides at once. It was heavenly. How
nice it is that nipples are far enough apart for that kind of
action! I just closed my eyes and enjoyed. My arms came up of
their own volition and encircled both of them. The old electric
currents were running up and down my body. Do I have to describe
this? If I do, let me assure you it's something you can try at
home. Then I felt a very familiar mouth on my mine, opened my
lips and tasted nectar. On my left side, my nipple was still
getting the full treatment. On my right, Bob's hand had replaced
his mouth, gently caressing my nipple. I realized that this is
impossible with one guy, and decided this caper had seriously
good points.

	I felt a hand glide smoothly across my stomach and come to rest
on my mound. Then a finger stealthily began moving down between
my other lips. Things were getting real exciting. I resisted the
urge to open my eyes and find out who was doing what. I should
care! The finger turned into two, then three, then a whole hand,
and one finger found its way into what was by now a fairly
slippery crack. I found my hips beginning to move around. Minor
earthquakes ensued.

	My legs began to spread, and my hips were moving hard against
the intruding hand. Then I felt a gentle stroking on my calf. I
opened my eyes, looked at Bob's face so close I couldn't focus
on it, pulled my head back and looked over his shoulder. Steve
was still there sucking away--oh, yes, I could still feel that
even though other things were going on that you'd think would
drown it out. Steve's hand was down between my legs. Beth was
standing by the bed, leaning over just enough to touch my leg
with a big smile on her face and enormous tits hanging at an
angle. It didn't require a philosophical discussion for me to
realize that her stroking was very pleasant, but, back behind
all the great feelings a tiny little alarm went off. I don't do
women, and women don't do me, either. But what the hell, what
she was doing was less serious than a back rub. And it did feel
good. So I just closed my eyes again and sank back into the
sensations.

	This went on forever, or for ten seconds, I didn't know or
care. I finally noticed that the stroking had stopped, the hand
was gone from my breast, and nobody was kissing me at all.
Somebody was still sucking on my right breast, however, and
there was still a finger moving around down in my box, so all
was not lost. But I opened my eyes to see what had happened.
There was Steve, in all the right places. I turned to look at
the spot where Bob had been lying. Nothing. I looked a little
farther to the left, and there he was standing up with his eyes
closed, slowly turning. I looked down, and there was Beth's
hand, slowly working up and down on his tool. And there she was,
smiling like a Cheshire cat.

	"Watching all that was just too much, sweetie," she said. "You
don't mind if I borrow this one for a while, do you?"

	Bob opened his eyes and winked at me, the clod. But just then
Steve's finger hit pay dirt again and I really didn't care who
was doing what to whom as long as he kept up what he was doing
to me. What a nice man! So I tapped gently on his head and said,
"Would you care to come in?"

	"I have a little something more to do," he said, grinning, then
he started kissing his way down my stomach. I closed my eyes
again. Then the hand withdrew and a big face was down between my
legs, a tongue on the lips of my vagina. Oh, very nice. The
tongue crept in between the lips and sort of mooshed around like
it was hunting for something. It found the something, and I
gasped. More good electric currents. I had one hand on Steve's
head and the other on my nipple. The force was getting stronger;
I could barely stand the waves of pleasure, then, suddenly, the
intensity doubled or tripled or something. I could feel waves of
whatever it was even in my cheeks. I was coming, hard. My hips
jerked, but Steve was hanging on to me. The tongue kept going,
and so did I. And then the wave subsided; I felt spent. But not
totally.

	"Come inside, Steve," I said. "I want you inside me." And then
he was there. Bliss. I held him tight. He kissed me, probing my
mouth, flicking my teeth. Once more the waves surged and I felt
as though I were vibrating. I was moaning, I discovered. And I
bit Steve's lip. He jerked his head back, but he kept pumping
and I felt as though I were exploding. After an eternity I began
to come back down, and just as I was sinking he squeezed me and
let out a wild groan. I could feel his swelling, and then the
sudden hard pressure against my pelvis, the shot of warmth into
my vagina. I pushed back against him until he suddenly collapsed
on top of me. Then I gently stroked his back. He was breathing
hard; so was I. For a while we just lay there, eyes closed.
Consciousness came back gradually. I was wondering whether I had
ever felt the force of an orgasm the way I had now. But it was
too hard to try to remember.

	I raised my head and whispered to him, "I hope I didn't hurt
your mouth."

	He smiled. "I escaped just in time. You took just a tiny piece
of skin. It doesn't hurt. But it was close. My God, woman, you
are something!"

	Am I now, I thought. "Well, it's all your fault."

	Then noise from the other bed finally reached my consciousness.
"Hey, Steve," roll off," I whispered. "I want to see what's
going on over there." He rolled, but kept hold of me. I wound up
on top, looking across at a sight to behold.

	Beth was on all fours, staring blankly at me, her breasts
hanging down trapped in a pair of big hands, and behind her my
husband, was kneeling, his eyes closed and his head thrown back.
What I had heard was a slap, slap, as his pelvis whacked into
her bottom. Her face was screwed up and she was making a noise
that matched each slap--"A-a-a-agh!" Then, suddenly, she lifted
her head and howled. She was still writhing when Bob started,
was still for half a minute, then fell on top of her. They both
looked dead. 

	"Wow!" I said. Steve looked up at me and grinned. 

	"We might have looked a little odd ourselves a few minutes
ago," he said.

	Beth opened one eye and looked at me. She began to smile.

	"Hi," I said.

	"Hi, indeed."

	"What happens next, Madame Executive?"

	"You aren't happy?" she said. "You didn't like the show?"

	"Oh, I liked it a lot. Maybe you could get a contract with the
Cirque de Soleil." By this time I was laughing. Beth was
struggling, trying to get the huge hulk off her back. She turned
this way and that and Bob, eyes still closed, wouldn't move a
muscle.

	"Hey, let me up, you big lummox," she cried. "I have to go to
the bathroom!"

	"I don't know," said Bob, opening his eyes at last. "It feels
kind of good this way."

	She pulled both legs up under her body and gave a mighty shove
that pushed her clear off the bed onto the floor. She rolled
upright and said, "I'll get you for that!"

	Bob, still collapsed on the bed, said, "You already did. I
don't think I can move. But it was nice."

	That made Beth smile. She struggled to her feet, patted Bob's
shoulder, and said, "Oh, I think you'll be all right. I never do
permanent damage." Then she skipped off to the bathroom."

	"I'm next," I said, and so I was. 

	When I came out the guys were still lying in their respective
heaps. Beth was slumped in a chair with a towel under her and
another in her lap. Picking it up and holding it out to me, she
said, "This one's for you." 

	I took it and sat on it in the other chair. "You are so
thoughtful," I said.

	"We leak," she said. "They don't. It's not fair, but that's the
way it is."

	"I'm hungry," I said, ignoring her vulgarity. "Where's the
popcorn? Or maybe the beefsteak."

	So, after the guys had each managed to get up and stagger into
the bath--they did, they staggered--we sat around and ate chips
and dip and popcorn and I finished the glass of wine Steve had
handed me before the hurricane. Bob was sitting on the floor in
front of me and I played with his hair in between chips. Got it
greasy, I expect, but it felt good. Steve sat on the arm of 
Beth's chair, occasionally sticking his nose down into the now
messy pile of black hair in front of his nose. After a while I
felt Bob begin to play with my toes. Steve put his arm around
Beth and began stroking the top of  her breast. 

	"You know," he said, "it's amazing, but even after all that
female flesh still feels so good I can taste it."

	Beth smiled. "You can taste it any time, big boy."

	Watching this began to turn me on. Just little squiggles down
in the genital area. I couldn't believe it. But, yes, real
squiggles of the sexy kind. Bob's hand began stroking my leg.
More squiggles.

	I checked Steve, and the only thing hard about him was his
thumb. An idea came creeping into my mind on little feet. I
leaned forward and let my right hand fall over Bob's shoulder. I
gently brushed his nipple. He leaned his head against the inside
of my thigh.

	"That's nice," Bob said. "you could do that some more."

	I did. I put my other hand down on his chest and he reached up
to take it. He held my hand and rubbed my palm lightly with his
thumb. Definitely sexy. I looked over at Beth and Steve just as
she tilted her head back to talk to him.

	"Do you see what she's doing?" she said, pointing.

	"Yes," he said. "I could do the same thing for you."

	"Please do," she said, leaning back and closing her eyes.

	Steve's hand moved down a few inches and began brushing her
nipple.

	"Oh, yes, very good," Beth said. Steve looked at me and winked.
I looked at his little tiny willy and saw not a twitch. But Bob
sort of scrunched around a little, getting more comfortable.
Then I saw something come out of hiding--not much, but something.

	"I have an idea," I said. "I think you guys ought to pick Beth
up, put her on the bed, and do for her what you did for me a
while ago. I believe the phrase was 'some real tit-sucking.'"

	Steve, still sitting on the arm of Beth's chair, pulled her
back, leaned way over and put his mouth on a succulent-looking
brown nipple for maybe half a minute. Then he looked up.

	"I think that might be fun," he said, looking at Bob.

	Bob began to lift himself up, so I pulled my arms out of his
way. Once on his feet he stepped over to Beth's chair, reached
under her knees,  put an arm around her shoulders, and lifted
her out of the chair. She squealed, then relaxed. He placed her
gently in the center of the bed. Then he knelt down and kissed
her, long and hard. Steve headed for the other side of the bed.

	For a second, I felt really weird. Half an hour before I'd seen
my husband vigorously fucking another woman from behind. Not a
single qualm. Of, course, Steve's softening rod was still inside
of me at the time. Maybe that made a difference. But I'd never
seen Bob kiss another woman, except his mother, and that wasn't
a bit sexy. This was. Here I sat, across the room, and he was
kissing Beth. I felt abandoned. He finally broke the kiss and
moved his mouth down to her nipple. Beth sighed gently. I shook
my head and decided I was crazy. At least she wasn't a medieval
history book--that was my real rival.

	I gave them a few minutes, then got up and walked over to the
bed. I started stroking Beth's calf, just the way she had mine.
Steve's hand came down and searched between her legs, which
opened up like a flower. She looked absolutely whacked out
except for a tiny smile on her face. She moved her hips toward
Steve's hand and moaned gently. 

	Bob's hand was lying on the floor as he lay on the edge of the
bed. I stopped stroking Beth and ran my fingers down his back,
slowly. Then I took the hand and tugged. 

	"I need you now," I said.

	He lifted his head, kissed Beth gently, and stood up. Then he
took me in his arms and kissed me. I felt his tongue and opened
my mouth. His chest felt wonderful against my breasts. I was
lubricating freely, my fear of a few minutes before forgotten. I
reached down between us to find his penis. It wasn't hard, but
it wasn't soft, either. I broke free, led him to the other bed
and pushed him down. I climbed in beside him on my knees, put my
fingers around his dick, bent down, and started licking it
gently. He shuddered and put his hand on my head. I took him in
my mouth and continued to caress him with my tongue. Gradually
he grew harder. 

	"Wait," he said. "Come to where I can get at you." I slipped up
toward his head and straddled him, then I bent back down to
continue to lick him. He pulled my rear down until I felt his
tongue searching for the entrance to my womb. He found it and I
shuddered. Almost at once I could feel a wave building. Great
shocks were going through my system. I shook, I moaned, I felt
like I was drowning. I stopped licking--everything stopped. With
a wrench I felt the biggest wave of all, all the way from head
to toe. My mouth lost contact and my head fell against Bob's
thigh.

	"I want you inside me," I said. He reached for my shoulders,
pulled me down on top of him and rolled us both over. And he was
inside. I put my legs around his waist and pushed against him as
hard as I could. He let me hold him tight for second, then, as
my strength waned, he began to move back and forth. I came
again, this time more quietly, more slowly. "I love you," I
whispered.

	"I love you, too," he said, putting his lips close to my ear.
Then he began moving back and forth once more, and I was in
heaven. Suddenly it was his turn; his head went down past my
neck and his full weight landed on me. He was jerking
erratically, saying, "Oh, oh, oh . . . !"  We lay like this for
a little while, my arms around him, his body holding mine tight
to the bed. His weight was an anchor;  I had this great feeling
of security. 

	He rolled off. I raised my head as he slipped an arm beneath my
shoulders. I faced him and pecked at his lips. He smiled.

	Then he lifted his head and nodded toward the other bed. I
turned and saw Beth stretched out just the way I was, with
Steve's arm around her shoulders. She looked over and smiled,
then lifted her arm and gave me a finger-at-a-time wave.

	We lay there for probably ten minutes, then Beth got up and
headed off toward the bathroom. Steve appeared to be asleep. I
looked at Bob. He was, too, I think, but he felt me move and
smiled another lazy smile. He opened his eyes.

	"I still like you best," he whispered, and gave me a squeeze. I
pulled him closer and kissed him.

	In a little while we managed to get dressed and meandered down
to the bar, where we sat rather quietly. I had a cup of tea.
Then we staggered out to the car park and drove down to Lynch's
Landing, a fake Irish pub that serves good food, where we ate
like starving animals. I shoveled down a shepherd's pie in about
three bites. I was drinking another cup of tea and wondering
whether I ought to have another piece of key lime pie when I saw
Steve smiling at me.

	"One of the things I like about my wife," he said, "is that she
has such good ideas."

	"Amen," I said. Beth just smiled. So did Bob.

					-------

	That night we all sat in our room sipping various things and
watching the Olympics. The guys joked about rating the nymphet
skaters--and not by the their skating prowess--while Beth and I
made a big thing of ooohing and ahing about that cute Japanese
ski jumper. Steve started wondering which of our mutual
acquaintances we might invite along for our next vacation and we
all laughed until we cried at his suggestions. 

	The next day we drove back to Tampa in our separate cars and
took the plane home. Bob slept for half the trip, and I dozed
and read about Doran, still in the second volume, and thought on
and off about the way we'd spent the past afternoon. At this
rate 1998 was going to be an interesting year. I'd probably end
up a prostitute in the gutter by July. I decided I'd think of
the whole thing as a way of getting Bob to loosen up a bit, not
be such a workaholic. Sure. Then I laughed out loud. 

	I got to musing about the conversation Steve had started the
evening before and thought about the couples I knew. I was
smiling again, trying to figure out their reactions if we even
told them about our trip. Then I did think of one guy we knew,
an English prof with a very pleasant wife who is a nurse, and I
figured they'd probably envy us. But who could we ask to join
us, if we wanted to? Not many. Of course there were some I
didn't know very well who might be interested. Like June and
Mike Hunt. Or maybe Bronwen and her husband,  if they could pop
over the briny for a short visit. Maybe even Celeste, even
though she does make a big thing about her monogamous marriage.
But maybe if I could get to know her husband a little . . . .

                                          ---------END-----------

Please write to me at janey98@hotmail.com

