22 Sep 2015

Neither myself nor my wife Helen pretend to be angels. We have both been married before, and have had affairs and flings. But we are happy together. We have, or had , our rules. Our home was off limits . We had never thought about swapping or swinging, and certainly not dogging. We would separate at parties and go with the flow. If that meant snogging someone else, or feeling up, or even a quickie, so be it. What happened at the party stayed at the party. We always went home together, and we always told each other the details.

Helen's sex drive varies enormously over the course of the month. Some days she is simply not interested, others she would take on a football team, and win. When it comes to sex she can be very very dirty. Some say she is built for sex, large breasts, rounded bum, soft tongue and great lips.

We often tell the other if we see someone we fancy, and what it is about that person that is attractive. My instincts are typical man, legs, bums, tits, the usual turn-ons. Helens are more cerebral , but then she is far more intelligent than me.

One evening we had been invited to a local gallery to the first night of an exhibition of a new artists work. I do like art, and treat myself to a painting at least once a year. At the gallery we took the offered glass of wine and looked at the first of the paintings on display. Helen then went off to speak to a lady she knew. I was standing alone studying a painting when I was aware of a lady standing beside me, quite close. I could smell her delicate perfume. I glanced at her, she was older than me by perhaps ten years, incredibly elegant, slim, and gorgeous. She asked me if I liked the painting. Her voice was deep, and somehow sexy.

I answered , taking the opportunity to have a good look at her.

I could feel blood rushing to my penis. She was divine, and at that moment I felt I would have chosen her over my twenty year old secretary with whom I was having clandestine fun. As we moved towards the next picture the lady got herself in front of me , facing me, total eye contact , occasionally touching my arm . My cock was going to need re-adjustment soon.

My embarrassment was saved by a couple I knew joining us, and asking if we knew each other. We said no, we were simply at the same picture at the same time. It turned out that my friends were also friends of hers. So we were introduced, Margaret this is Robert. A quick hand shake and a little peck on the cheek, giving me a closer smell of her perfume.

The change of circumstances had relieved the pressure down below, so I did not need to re-adjust.

As we were chatting I noticed Helen and her friend talking to a man, our age, smartly dressed , just her type. If she was thinking about him what I was thinking about Margaret, we would be having a dirty conversation in the car on the way home.

The viewing was drawing to a close and people were starting to leave. I noticed that Margaret was leaving with the man who had been speaking to Helen. Obviously they were a couple. Maybe Margaret liked the younger men ?

On the way home I asked Helen about the man. She said his name was Pierre, she really had fancied him, because he was ' so french.' She asked me about Margaret, I admitted lusting for her, in fact her being older was a turn-on.

The following weekend we were invited to a barbeque lunch by the friends we had met at the gallery. Amongst the other guests were Margaret and her partner Pierre. We were soon engaged in conversation with them, then Helen was talking more to Pierre and Margaret more to me. I tried my hardest to hide my feelings of lust towards her, but clearly Helen was having more difficulty trying not to jump on Pierre there and then. When it came time to leave, as we said our goodbyes, I was surprised to hear Helen invite Margaret and Pierre to come for dinner the following Saturday. I was pleased to hear Margaret accept.

On the way home I mentioned to Helen that we have an unwritten rule, our home is off limits. How, I asked her, are you going to be able to keep to the rule and get your hands on Pierre ? That night, in bed, as she was on top of me, slowly writhing her clitoris on my pelvic bone, she suggestively proposed that we break the rule, just this once. I agreed, on condition that she let me have a little time in her arse . Obviously she was very keen on having Pierre, because after quickly bringing herself off she rolled over and knelt on the bed ready for me to enjoy myself.

Saturday came around. Helen had prepared a light meal, and had dressed to excite. The guests arrived. Margaret as elegant as ever, that same alluring perfume. Pierre more casual , more continental.

There was no indication from either of them that they were up for sex, so I whispered to Helen to go steady. Margaret and I were chatting about art as we drank a glass of champagne. Helen was of course deep in conversation with Pierre. Margaret asked me if I had seen the exhibition of a certain artist last month at the same gallery. I said I had not, but that I had bought two of his works last year. She asked if she could see them. I said they are hanging in my home office, so by all means. As we went to leave the room, Helen asked Pierre to help her in the kitchen.

In my office I showed Margaret the pictures. I was astonished when she said she was not really interested, she had wanted to speak to me alone. I was waiting for her to speak, but instead she came close to me and kissed me very gently. I immediately returned the compliment, the kisses becoming more sensuous. She was pushing herself hard against me, rubbing against my groin. I was instantly hard. I led her to the desk, made her lean on it, and put my hand up her skirt. I could feel soft thigh above her stockings, a slim run of lace covering her pussy. The lace was damp. She lifted off the desk to enable me to pull her thong away from her body, and to get my fingers in her slit. She was writhing in passion , emitting moans of pleasure. Moments later she orgasmed. After a pause to get her breathe, she unzipped my trousers, pulled out my erection and took it into her mouth.

Helen is very good at giving oral, but Margaret was in a league of her own. I could not resist, I was shooting my load. She must have sensed it because she lifted off just in time, put her palm over my end and expertly caught my spunk. Only after I had softened did she lick the last drips. Luckily there was a box of tissues on my desk.

She said we should rejoin the others, but promised me more was available if I wanted.

As we came back into the lounge Helen and Pierre were coming out of the kitchen. I could not help but notice helens hair was slightly awry, her throat a little red, and Pierres shirt a bit tangled. I later noticed his flies were open.

And the evening still lay ahead of us.