Janey's February (FM/FM cons)

JANEY'S FEBRUARY

	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 didn'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 knicknacks. 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
bougainvilla 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 o.k.?"

	"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
sundress 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, eyes closed, 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 . . .
.