Keeping up with my wife, Leslie has always been my greatest pleasure. From the moment I met her in university, I knew she was hot as a pistol and an animal in the bedroom. Somehow, we managed to graduate while having extraordinarily vigorous sex no less than three times a day. No place or time was off limits and most others left the room when we entered since they knew what we were up to and were polite enough to give us the time and space we needed. I haven't masturbated since I met Leslie.
We were married immediately after graduation. The wedding day was memorable. Leslie wore white without panties. We had sex before the ceremony and again between the church and the reception. The limo on the way to the airport reeked of sex when we exited.
The pace of play has never declined. We both wanted as much sex as we could get. We usually had sex before breakfast and I left for work, again when I got home and usually again before settling in for the night. Every day. Seven days a week and sometimes more on weekends. It's been seven years, we both still love it, and keeping up the pace is one of my greatest joys in life.
I never thought much about it. I just expected it. It was as normal as the sun rising and setting and just as dependable. Recently, however, I wondered why, when I came home from work on Thursday, Leslie wasn't waiting expectantly for me as I came through the door. She was in the shower and it was almost an hour before she jumped my bones and pumped me dry. I thought nothing of it afterward since the next day she was posed, naked, on the sofa when I came through the front door.
It happened again the following Tuesday. Leslie was in the shower again when I got home and didn't come after my cock and balls until just before dinner. It wasn't a regular thing. Maybe just one or two days a week, my usual greeting when I came home was delayed for an hour or two while Leslie showered and primped in the bathroom. I wasn't concerned but it was a change in a routine we had had for seven years.
Humans are wired to notice patterns and it wasn't long before I noticed that Leslie showered late in the afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was as regular as our previous pattern, I began to wonder what about Tuesday, and Thursday was different from the rest of the week.
One Thursday I left work for home two hours early. I parked up the street with a good view of our house and waited. About fifteen minutes before I was due home, Leslie came out of the neighbor's house looking a little disheveled and trotted quickly to our front door. She was in the shower when I came in ten minutes later and I waited patiently for my usual greeting.
The same thing happened the following Tuesday. I watched as Leslie almost skipped between the houses fifteen minutes before I was expected home. I couldn't help wondering what was going on. Of course, my thoughts went immediately to the most painful of conclusions. I assumed that Leslie, with her over charged libido, was having an affair with the next-door neighbor. I wondered if three times a day wasn't enough anymore and Leslie needed an extra fuck, with a different cock sometimes.
The thought drove me crazy. I needed to confirm my suspicions and decide what to do about it. It didn't take me long. A man named Anthony Carlone lived alone next door to us. He was at least fifteen or twenty years our senior and his wife had left him about a year earlier. He was an attorney with an exclusive firm in center city and worked from home two days a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. I don't know how he connected with Leslie but I learned that his wife had left him because he couldn't keep it in his pants. I concluded that he, somehow, had approached Leslie rather than the other way around. It was an easy conclusion as I didn't want to believe Leslie, who was screwing me three times a day, would actively seek additional opportunities to get laid.
I was furious. I've never been good at controlling my emotions, especially anger. I've also always been driven to get even. I guess you could accuse me of holding a grudge and you'd be correct. I couldn't let go until I settled the score. I considered my options. I could confront Leslie. I gleefully imagined what would happen if, one Tuesday, I was sitting in our living room when Leslie came through the door after fucking Tony. I imagined that she would break down with guilt, confess everything, promise never to do it again and we'd have uninhibited sex until we both passed out. My fantasy wasn't realistic. If Tony had pursued her before he was certain to pursue her again, eventually he'd succeed and we be back to square one. And I was mad as hell and determined to get even.
Tony didn't have a wife, so I couldn't fuck her to get even. I needed another solution.
I thought about divorcing her. Just sending a marshal with the divorce papers. I ruled it out since I liked screwing as much as she did and she'd have a much easier time replacing me than I would have replacing her. Also, with the help of lawyer Anthony, she'd destroy me in court and I'd be broke and horny at the same time.
In spite of what I thought was a permanent tear in our relationship, I decided that I wanted to preserve my marriage with Leslie but terminate her trips next door without appearing responsible. I decided that I'd just have to murder the bastard.
It took me six months to prepare. I immediately began to wear pajamas to bed. Leslie noticed and I told her the cooler weather was coming and I'd be warmer in pajamas and it was seductive when she played with me through the pajama bottoms or pulled them off before she climbed on top of me.
With the pajama routine firmly established, I began to gather the things I'd need, individually, over time and from different stores. Eventually, I had black sneakers, black socks, black trousers, black hoodie, black knit ski mask, black gloves and black shoe covers. I tested wearing everything over my pajamas, sealing the connections with black rubber bands and insuring I'd leave no trace of my visit next door. Leslie never saw a single item. I kept them a plastic container in the garage labeled "painting supplies."
The gun was the most difficult to get. I drove two states away when I was supposed to be at work, and got a small, .22-caliber handgun from a guy at a gun show who agreed to take twice his asking price to lose the paperwork. He threw in two bullets as a bonus and I drove home, arriving at my usual time.
I was finally ready by spring. On a Friday night, I ensured that Leslie would sleep deeply all night. We had a longer than usual sexual encounter during which I finished with my cock buried deeply in her ass. I knew she always went to sleep quickly after a good anal fuck and would sleep all night.
I assured she was comatose by trying to talk to her and squeezing her breast, without response. I slipped quietly out of bed and moved silently into the garage. I took the clothing out of the bin and put them on over my pajamas. When I was ready and almost invisible in my black outfit, I slipped out of the back of the garage and went next door. I jimmied the side door to Carlone's garage put the black covers over my sneakers.
As silently as I could, I moved through the house and up the stairs being careful to keep to the edges as I climbed. The door to the master bedroom was ajar and I pushed it open slowly as I peeked into the room. Carlone was in bed, on his stomach with the covers pulled up over his shoulders. His breathing was slow and deep and his hips were moving slowly up and down as if he was dry humping a pillow. I thought, "How nice. He's leaving this world dreaming about the exact reason for his exit."
I crept slowly up to the side of the bed, put the pistol about an inch from his temple and pulled the trigger.
The sound in the small room was sharp and loud. Loud enough to startle me. The screaming began immediately.
Doubly startled, I ran from the room, down the stairs and out through the garage, closing the door, and locking it, behind me. "Shit, shit," I thought. "Carlone must have had a woman in bed with him. He wasn't dry humping his pillow. He was fucking some woman. Shit."
I ran quickly back inside my house, stripped off everything, put it and the gun in the plastic bin and bolted upstairs. I slipped into bed, counted to three, sat up suddenly and shouted, "What the hell was that?"
Leslie woke up. "What was what?" she asked.
"I heard a scream. Sounded like it was next door."
"I didn't hear anything."
"That's not a surprise. You were really deeply asleep. I'm going to find out. Wait here."
I got out of bed, turned on the light and went to our front door and outside, wearing my pajamas. As I opened the door, I saw a half naked person leave Carlone's house, run across the opposite neighbor's lawn, jump in a car and drive away. I knew that body. I knew that hair. I knew that run. I knew that car. Everything belonged to my sister, Mary. Carlone was fucking my sister. He had been fucking my wife and my sister. I hoped the bastard was dead.
Within a few minutes, several other neighbors were outside with me. Leslie joined us outside, wearing a robe and bringing mine with her. I put on the robe and listened to the talk coming from the neighbors.
"I heard a scream."
"I thought I heard a gunshot," said another.
"I think it came from there," said one pointing to Carlone's.
"I think it did too," I offered.
"Looks quiet now," someone offered.
"Should we call the police?" another asked.
"We should. It sounded horrible and we should let them investigate," I offered. "Honey," I said to Leslie, "go inside, call 9-1-1 and ask them to come."
Leslie looked around at the group nodding at her and went inside. A few minutes later, she came back and three minutes after that a police car rolled up with lights but no siren. A single officer climbed out of the car and asked one of the neighbors what the commotion was all about. Once he had gathered all the information we had, he told us to "wait here" and went to Carlone's front door. He came back in a few minutes, went to his cruiser and radioed for backup.
When asked, he told us the front door was ajar and he wanted backup before he went inside. A second police cruiser pulled up and another officer got out. They told us to wait where we were while they investigated. Together they went to the front door and I saw one of them pull out his gun before they entered. We could see torchlights flashing through the windows as they walked around the lower level and then upstairs where they stopped in a front bedroom. One of them turned on the bedroom lights and the other one came back and called for the crime scene analysts and the coroner. When pressed for information, he told us it appeared the owner had been entertaining a woman when he was shot and was dead in his bed and we should not go anywhere since they would want to talk to each of us about what we heard or saw.
"The bastard's dead," I thought. "Good."
It was hours later, when the sun was rising, before the police had all our statements and we were allowed to go back to our houses. Carelessly, I had forgotten to mention my sighting of a woman running from the house and, fortunately, no one else had seen her or heard her drive away.
The early news hinted about something happening on our block and by the midday news, Anthony Carlone's name was proximately mentioned. The police had warned us about the possibility the press would knock on our doors and suggested we refrain from speaking to them.
Mid-afternoon Alice called. She said she saw our neighborhood on the news and wanted to know what was going on. Leslie told her everything she thought we knew. Never the less, Alice wanted to come over and see for herself. Leslie didn't understand Alice's interest but invited her to come over and possibly stay for dinner. I had a suspicion why Alice wanted to be nearby.
Mary arrived later. We sat around talking about the death of the neighbor, watched the local evening news and talked some more. The police had a statement at about eight o'clock that the local station interrupted regular programming to cover. The gist of the police statement was that Anthony Carlone was dead. He had died in his bed of a single gunshot wound to the head from a .22 caliber gun at close range. It was determined that he was not alone at the time and indicated that a woman had been in his bed at the time of his death. There was no gun found at the scene and they currently had no idea who the woman was. They were activity trying to find her. They refused to speculate on a motive for the shooting although the press was quick to guess the woman or her husband was responsible although there was no indication that anyone else was present in the bedroom.
It was late, so Leslie set Alice up in our spare room and we all went to bed. Even with Alice in the other bedroom, Leslie would not be denied and I orally pleased her to orgasm and then fucked her until I came as well. We were less vocal than usual but we were not quiet. In the morning, we repeated last night's activities but kept the action in our bedroom in deference to Mary.
After breakfast, Leslie went to the market for weekend supplies and more tequila. That left Alice and I alone for a different discussion. I sat my sister on the sofa and sat alongside her. "Mary, we need to talk," I opened.
"What do you mean?" asked Mary.
"I know who the woman with Tony Friday night was," I said.
"Who?" she asked.
"You," I said.
"You think you saw me Friday night?" she asked quietly.
"I absolutely saw you run away from the house, holding your clothing, get in your car and drive away," I told her.
"You're sure?"
"I don't make mistakes when I see my sister, who I've spent most of my life with, who runs with a slight hop, run across a lawn half naked."
"Shit," she said. "Have you told anyone?"
"No and I don't plan to."
"Thank you Robbie. Do you think anyone will figure it out?"
"I don't know. It depends on how much trace evidence you left in the house."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"They'll find your fingerprints, and probably some hair that they can get DNA from and possibly some clothing fibers they can trace to something you were wearing."
"I've never been fingerprinted and my DNA's not on file anywhere. If they find me, they'll probably think I did it. I'm scared shitless. I've hardly slept for two nights."
"You'll probably be alright if you're careful not to do anything that gives the police the opportunity to fingerprint you or take a DNA sample. I do have to ask though, did you do it?"
"No. No. I don't know what happened. We were in the bed together. He was on top of me when, suddenly, bang, all hell broke loose. I began screaming, I pushed him off me, stumbled around in the dark to gather my clothing and beat it out of the house as quickly as I could."
"So you were fucking him in his bed when he was shot by someone else. Did you get a look at whoever it was?"
"That's a pretty crude way of expressing it but accurate. I didn't see anyone. I have a slight memory of a shadow leaving the room after the shot but that's all."
"Mary, with luck I think we can keep your involvement out of it. As far as I'm concerned, neither you nor the shadow were there Friday night."
"Robbie, you have no idea how good that makes me feel. I barely slept last night worrying. I feel much better. I don't know how I can repay you for keeping my secret."
"Can I make a suggestion?" I asked.
"Am I going to like it?" she asked.
"I have no idea how you'll react but I can tell you I'll be pleased."
"Okay, what do you suggest?"
"Mary, let me be honest for a moment. I'm your brother. I grew up with you. I watched you grow up. I watched you transform into a woman while I was a frustrated teenage male. You were always so close but always untouchable. The best I could do was a rare peek. Now may not be the right moment, but I've waited forever for an opportunity to express my feelings and ask if you've ever thought about it."
"Wait a minute. Are you suggesting we have sex together and you were spying on me when we lived at home with mom and dad?"
"Not actually spying, just hoping a lot. The best I ever got was a quick peek at one of your breasts when towel slipped when you came out of the bathroom. And, yes, I guess I am suggesting I'd love to have sex with you."
"It's creepy. Since you're being honest, I have to tell you I tried to see you naked as well. Never successfully though. I was a frustrated teenage girl as much as you were a frustrated teenage male."
"So, you'll think about it?"
"Probably, but there's no connection between the events of Friday night and however we end up."
"Agreed. You've made me very happy just thinking about it." Mentally, I hoped Alice would feel that having sex with me would intensify her belief that it would encourage me to remain silent.
Mary left for home before Leslie returned from the market. She barely got her purchases inside before I was behind her with my arms around her holding both her breasts.
"Wow. Nice welcome. How come the sexy greeting?"
"I don't know. This morning, with Alice in the next room, was somewhat reserved. Maybe I just want to make up for it."
"Wait in the corner while I put the perishables away."
I sat on a stool at the end of the counter while Leslie turned and bent over putting vegetables, milk and cheese in the refrigerator. When she closed the door and turned around, she had a sly grin on her face. I'd seen that look before and I wondered if I would survive the next few hours.
Leslie walked up in front of me on the stool. She stood close and licked her lips seductively. When I reached out to hold her hips, she pushed my hands away and shook her head. She stared into my eyes and slowly began to unbutton her blouse with her tongue sliding back and forth between her lips. When her blouse was unbuttoned, she pulled it from her slacks, slid it off her shoulders and let it fall on the floor behind her. Even more slowly, she reached up behind her back and unhooked her bra. She slid her hands around to support the bra while the shoulder straps fell aside. She unveiled her breasts with a flourish as she discarded her bra on the floor somewhere behind her. Her hips undulated seductively as she gently swung her breasts side to side and began to remove her slacks. Her pants slid to the floor and she kicked of her shoes and stepped out of them. Wearing only her undersized panties, she shifted her hips invitingly while she played with the waistband. Soon her panties were on the floor with the rest of her clothing.
Totally naked, she moved closer and whispered, "You can touch me now."
I needed only one invitation. I reached out and cupped her mound with one hand and her right breast with the other. Soon I was standing alongside her, kissing her, biting her lower lip, squeezing her nipple between my thumb and index fingers and running my fingers through the slippery space between her pussy lips. That didn't last long. She lay back onto the floor and lifted her legs high over her head. I was out of my clothes in record time and buried deeply inside her. We writhed together on the floor until we both orgasmed explosively.
"That was intense," exclaimed Leslie later as she gathered her clothing and headed for the bedroom. I followed shortly, leaving my clothing where they had hurriedly landed. In the bedroom, I caught up to her, pushed her onto the bed and began to orally stimulate her clitoris. The result was the third vigorous fuck of the day and it was still early. We lost the rest of the day and by bedtime, we were a full day ahead of schedule.
Tuesday morning, Leslie answered the door. Standing outside were two men in cheap suits. They identified themselves as detectives from the local police department. They asked if they could come in and Leslie obliged. Sitting around the dining room table one of the detectives explained the reason for their visit. He told her they were investigating the homicide next door. He said they had found at least four unique sets of women's fingerprints in Carlone's house and several strands of long hair none of which could be traced to an individual. However, they were sure Mr. Carlone had been entertaining multiple women in his home and they theorized that jealousy might be a motive for the murder.One of hairs was blonde and seemed similar to Leslie's. They decided to come speak to her after they found a single word on a slip of paper Mr. Carlone had been using for a bookmark: "Leslie." "Mrs. Thompson, pardon my directness, but were you having an affair with Anthony Carlone?"
Leslie put her head on her arms and began to sob. "I was," she managed to say. "I wouldn't exactly call it an affair; more like friends with benefits. You know his wife left him and he was alone," she said as if it would excuse her actions.
"You weren't the only one," the detective said. "I have to ask, did your husband know about you and Mr. Carlone?"
"No. No. He didn't, doesn't, know. Oh my God, will he find out?"
"You're sure he doesn't know?"
"I'm positive. He's never said a single word, or even the hint of a word. Our relationship has never been stronger. Rob has a tendency to let people know when he's displeased and he's never hinted he thought something was happening between Tony and me. If he did, I'd know. He couldn't hide it. Especially from me. But, will he find out now that Tony's been killed?"
"Not from us unless we find evidence he's involved. However, investigations leak and this case has some salacious circumstances, such as his involvement with several women, and we can't guarantee something won't eventually become known, including your name."
"Shit. What can I do?"
"I suggest you sit down with your husband and tell him everything. It has to be better if it comes from you rather than the six pm news."
"Shit. Okay. I'll think about it."
The detectives took a sample of Leslie's hair and her fingerprints for elimination purposes and left.
The doorbell rang again a few minutes after dinner that evening. Leslie was immediately nervous. She had been on edge all day after speaking to the detectives. She felt a little distracted during their sex before dinner but, if Rob noticed, he said nothing. She still hadn't had the nerve, or time, to have the discussion with Rob she knew she had to have.
Leslie and I were cleaning up after dinner, when the doorbell rang. I answered the door and was met by two men wearing suits. They identified themselves as detectives and asked to speak with me. I invited them in and introduced them to Leslie who hoped her response wouldn't alert Rob that she had met them earlier.
When they were seated in the living room, one of the detectives asked, "Mr. Thompson, according to our notes, you were the first neighbor to come out of the house last Friday night. Is that correct?"
"I don't know," I responded. "I don't remember seeing anyone else outside, but I can't be absolutely sure. I could have been first."
"Have you remembered seeing or hearing anything you didn't mention to the officers that night?"
"I haven't. Should I have?"
"Well, one of your neighbors thinks he heard a car driving away right after he came outside. Do you remember a car driving away?"
"Now that you mention it, there was a car. I didn't think anything about it at the time. It was halfway up the street when I noticed it. I wouldn't have except it must have turned on the headlights while moving up the street. The taillights coming on got my attention."
"Is there anything else you can tell us about the car or driver?"
"Not really. It was too far away to see the driver and it was dark."
"How about the taillights or the shape of the car? Maybe the license plate?"
"It was pretty far away. The lights were small, irregular and I think the center light was slightly above the others. I couldn't see the outline of the car in the dark let alone the license. Maybe the left headlight was out. The light pattern seemed unsymmetrical. That's all I remember." That much seemed safe. Alice drove a car with round taillights with the center light up on the roof-line and all the headlights worked fine.
"That's helpful. If you remember anything else please call us."
When the detectives left, Leslie took my hand and led me to the sofa. "Rob, we have to talk."
"Sure. What about?"
"This whole thing with our neighbor. I'm scared to death."
"Why?" I think I knew where Leslie was going and I was prepared to let her hang out for a while. The problem was solved as far as I was concerned and I was willing to let it go to preserve my life with her.
"That's not the first time the detectives were here today."
"You talked to them earlier?"
"Yes."
"What did they want from you?"
"They've found evidence that our neighbor was entertaining several women. They found women's fingerprints and hair in his house and bedroom."
"So?" This was beginning to sound interesting.
"One of the hairs was mine."
"Yours?"
"Yes and I'm afraid they might think I had something to do with his death. They took a hair sample from me and my fingerprints."
"I don't think that's a possibility. You were in bed with me when he was shot. They're probably only trying to eliminate some of the evidence so they can focus on the important stuff. What the hell was your hair and fingerprints doing in his house anyway?" I knew but I wanted to hear her explain it to me.
"That's what I'm really scared about. I was in his house."
"And in his bedroom?"
"Yes, and don't go all ballistic on me. Let me explain."
This was going to be interesting.
"Tony was one of our nicest neighbors. His wife did him dirty and left him all alone. I felt sorry for him."
"So you fucked him?"
"Yes and I regret it now. I'd do anything to change what happened but I can't. I feel terrible. I cheated on you and I've ruined everything we have. I realize how important you are to me and I'm devastated that I'll lose you forever."
"How the hell did it happen?"
"I knew his wife had left. I never liked her. I thought she was a horrible neighbor, a bitch and was glad she was gone. He seemed like a nice guy. He was always nice to both of us. I went over one day to see how he was doing."
"And one thing led to another," I interjected.
"Kinda. He was taking her leaving well I thought. He seemed okay. We talked for a while and I came home. I thought about him being alone and went back a few days later with a couple of scones and suggested we have coffee or tea and talk some more. I realize now that was the wrong thing to do. I opened the door to something more.
"We had coffee and cake a couple of times a week after that. Eventually our talks became very personal, at least on his part. He confessed that he didn't love her any more at the end but he missed the physical part of their relationship. He told me she had been pretty good in bed and being alone, with only his right hand to keep him company, was depressing. He looked so sad. I wanted to help him."
"And you knew just how to do that," I interjected again.
"Sadly, yes. I kissed him and let him touch me. A week later I even led him up to the bedroom."
"And you did what you do best. You had sex with him." I was leading the witness.
"Yes. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was helping a fellow human being through a rough time in his life. It was stupid. I was stupid. I knew better but somehow I convinced myself it would be alright."
"And I would never know."
"That too. Damn. I feel like a worthless idiot. I know you have to be furious. I'm your wife and I did the unthinkable but I honestly thought it was okay. Please try to understand. I'll do anything to make it right with you. I swear I'll never do anything like this again. I've learned a valuable lesson. I want desperately for you to understand and help me. I'll do anything you want, forever, if we can get passed this."
"And, you kept going back for more?"
"No. I kept going back to help him. I thought I was doing a good thing. He was a lousy lover. No energy and no imagination. It was always the same and the sex with you later was always better than ever. Maybe that helped me think it was a good thing."
"How many times?"
"It started about seven months ago. Twice a week. Probably fifty or sixty times. God, I sound like a whore."
It was a good thing that my initial anger had been focused on Tony Carlone all these months. It helped me control my temper with Leslie. I took her hand. "I'm pissed. Really pissed, but I can see how you could fall into his trap. You've always been sensitive about people in trouble." I was leaving her a way out. I wondered if she would recognize it.
"He took advantage of me. I know now he seduced me. I was weak when I thought I was strong."
I liked the path she was taking.
"I want to make it right between us. What can I do that would make it alright with you?"
"I don't know. I think you should think about it and offer a solution appropriate with your level of contrition. I don't want to impose something on you that might only serve to make matters worse. It's your bad and it should be your fix."
Leslie was quiet for several minutes. Finally, she said, "I could offer you a hall pass."
"A hall pass?" I asked.
"You know. You could have sex with anyone you choose and I would be okay with it."
"I don't know. How can a wrong be fixed with another wrong?"
"I was wrong but you wouldn't be. You'd have my permission. No questions asked. It would even the score, so to speak, and we could move on."
"Sixty," I said. "That's a lot of hall passes."
"I never considered the number before. I wasn't counting but if it's sixty, then it's sixty and I really want to make it right."
"Leslie, I don't know sixty women. Hell, I don't know even one woman who would want to have sex with me."
"Don't sell yourself short. There are plenty of women who would line up to have you for one night. I've seen them look at you when they think I'm not looking."
"Right and the sun rises in the west," I countered.
"I think it's a good idea. I need for you to do this. For me. I'd be willing to help."
"She's just gone from being a whore to being a pimp," I thought.
"I don't think it would be that difficult," she continued. "If I let them know it was alright with me I bet some of them would be eager to jump your bones."
"I don't know," I said. "I can't imagine a single woman."
"Just off the top of my head, how about Mary?"
"Mary? My sister?"
"Yes, your sister. I've seen the way she looks at you sometimes. I bet she's been carrying a torch for you since you were both teenagers. Actually, I'm surprised you didn't fuck her then. She's single. She's alone and I bet she's sexually frustrated. If I pushed her buttons just a little, I bet she'd be in your bed within a week."
"But, my sister."
"It's a means to an end. I've seen the way you look at her sometimes. I bet you'd enjoy it as much as she would."
"You're serious," I stated.
"As a stroke, which I still may have if you can't help me with this."
"Okay, if you want it this way. I don't know why I'm not more angry at you than I am, but I'm not. Normally I'd want to kill the bastard who lured you into his bed but someone's already taken care of that."
"Knowing now what I didn't know then; he was fucking at least three other women, I'd help you."
"Maybe the extreme solution you seem to be okay with has some effect. Honestly, I've never had carnal thoughts about another woman since I met you." I also have a bridge I'm trying to sell. "Maybe it will pull me back from the brink and make our relationship stronger." Sure!
Leslie put her other hand on top of mine. "Rob, will you make love to me?"
I couldn't refuse a request like that.
We went to the bedroom hand in hand and make slow, deliberate love, something more meaningful than just sex. Leslie was very attentive. She fulfilled my every wish and more. Later, when we were lying in bed with my arm around her and her head on my chest, I felt a drop on water on my skin. I lifted my head to see what it was and used my free hand to wipe another tear from her cheek. She looked up and smiled at her.
"Rob," she said, "that was wonderful. Thank you. I want moments just like that for the rest of my life, with you."
Wednesday I felt compelled to call Alice and try to push my offer along. After the talk with Leslie, I felt that my three-point desperation shot from mid-court was morphing into a lay up. I resisted, preferring to give Leslie some room to work her magic.
During the rest of the week, I washed the clothing I wore Friday night and cut it up into small pieces. I took the gun completely apart and, wearing gloves, scrubbed each part, and the spare bullet, with alcohol. Each day, I had lunch from a different fast food drive through, ate in the parking lot and put a portion of the cut up clothing in the empty bag that I put in the restaurant's trash. It took almost two weeks before it was all gone.
I cleaned the sneakers inside and out and put them next to a car behind an all night gym downtown. I hoped it would look like someone had forgotten them when they got into their car and someone else would find them and I'd never see them again.
The pieces of the gun were more difficult to dispose of. Finally, on a weekend, I took Leslie up to a nearby lake and rented a boat for the day. We cruised around the lake, laughed together and fucked once in a small cove out of sight of the rest of the lake. I also managed to drop the gun, piece by piece, in a dozen spots in the center of the lake. The trip had an added benefit. I got a hand job in the car on the way home and very pleasant quarter hour in the shower later.
The outstanding issue with Alice haunted me. Leslie hadn't mentioned it to me so I had no idea where it stood. I bit the bullet on Saturday morning when Leslie went to the market and called Mary. When she answered, I said, with preamble, "I've been thinking."
"So have I," she responded.
"Are we on?"
"I think so. I've thought of little else for the last three weeks."
"Where and when?"
"You know, there are a few things you could help me around the apartment, if you have time."
"I'll make the time. When?"
"How about now?"
"I can do that. See you in about an hour."
"Great. I can hardly keep my pants on in anticipation."
"Then don't bother," I said as I hung up.
I called Leslie on her cell phone.
"Mary wants me come over and help her with a few things at her apartment."
"I thought she might."
"I don't know how long I'll be there."
"Take as long as you need. There's no time limit on a hall pass. Just save some and come home to me."
"Thank you," I said as I hung up.
I showered and changed into something that I thought would be easy to remove. I considered leaving off my fruit of the looms and go commando, but I didn't want to look too confident and put them on.
I rang Alice's doorbell in just under an hour. I had stopped at a local market and bought a small crumb cake and a bouquet of spring flowers for her.
Mary answered the door with an expression something between a smile and a grimace. She was barefoot wearing white tennis shorts and a t-shirt that stretched over her chest and confirmed that she was braless. "Going commando would have been fine," I thought as I walked into her living room.
Mary closed the door behind me and stood facing me, obviously at a loss as to what to say. Finally, she asked, "Are those for me?" pointing to the flowers.
"I thought they might help set the mood and create an alternate reality to our obvious relationship."
Mary took the flowers and, after searching through a couple of cabinets, put them in a vase with water. She was standing behind the kitchen counter when I walked over and sat on a stool on the opposite side. She looked at me with a "what next?" stare. I felt sorry for her. We were both in new territory but, where I was comfortable she had a deer in the headlights look about her.
"I thought we might have a cup of coffee and talk for a while," I said as I removed the coffee cake from its bag.
Two K-cups and twenty minutes later we were sitting at her small kitchen table, laughing over the remains of the cake and a couple of empty mugs. I reached out and took her hand. She looked at me, smiled and asked, "Is it time?"
"Only if you feel it," I said.
"Oh, I feel it. So can you if you want to."
With her sense of humor intact, I knew the train had left the station.
Mary walked around the table, offered me her hands and I stood up in front of her. She knelt down in front of me and began to undo my belt and jeans. She pulled my jeans down to my knees and fumbled a little with my briefs trying to pull them over my rising erection. "Should have gone commando," I thought.
Mary held my penis gently in one hand and began to kiss and lick the head. "She's going to start with blow job," I thought. "I wonder if she's been watching porn movies to prepare. They always start with a blow job."
She hadn't done this very often and never with the same guy twice. I gently offered her suggestions and she eventually found a rhythm that satisfied both of us. I managed to pull off her t-shirt and saw her naked tits for the first time. Neither of us was ever going to star in an x-rated movie but if she was happy with my average cock then I was happy with her average tits.
Her oral skills improved with practice. In fact, as she gained confidence, she became quite good and there was no doubt that I was going to cum if she continued. I didn't warn her but she knew instinctively when it was about to happen and pulled her mouth off just as I squirted semen on her chest and tits. She actually giggled as she stood up in front of me.
I took her face in both hands and kissed her for the first time. Not a brotherly kiss. A lover's kiss. Full of promise. I stepped back a half step and, using two fingers, scooped up some cum from her breast, carefully circling her nipple as I did so. I held the fingers up in front of her lips. Her expression told me she had never tasted cum before. I touched my fingers gently to her lips and lifted them off again. She stood still for a moment before her tongue appeared and licked her lips. When I moved my fingers toward her mouth a second time, her lips parted and I put both fingers into her mouth. She sucked and licked them clean before I removed them. She opened her mouth so I could see my cum on her tongue and then made a production of closing her mouth and swallowing.
If the flowers, cake and coffee and sparked a flame, swallowing started the inferno. Over the next three hours, Alice and I lost all sense of time and relationship. I couldn't help comparing Alice's efforts to Leslie's. Where Leslie was experienced and confident, Alice was a novice and hesitant. Where Leslie was practiced and even graceful, Alice was inept and clumsy. Where Leslie was quick to respond to my needs, Alice had to be led. Over the three hours, things worked themselves out quite well. Alice was an excellent student and a good teacher. She was able to coax me while I was pleasuring her clitoris with my tongue and lips to exactly the right spot for her maximum enjoyment. While I had several orgasms and I think Alice did too, neither of us saw stars or fireworks.
The first time I entered her it was slow and gentle. We fucked in classical missionary position for about four minutes before I couldn't hold off and sent a bullet or two of semen into her. As I lay on top of her and looked her in the eyes, she said, "It's alright. I'm on the pill." I guess my smile inspired her as she turned around and began to stroke my cock hoping to keep it from deflating completely. Her efforts were rewarded and she began to suck energetically as my erection responded. I played with her labia with my fingers as she worked on my cock. I gathered some fluid seeping from her and used it to rub a small circle around her rectum. She stopped sucking for a moment, turned her head toward mine and said, "Not there. I'm not ready for that, yet," and went back to her business.This time, when I came, she kept it all in her mouth and swallowed without a flourish.
By mid afternoon, we agreed to a suspension of activity. We were both pretty tired and Alice was resolute in her assertion that we had to resume at a later date. I had cum four times and I have no idea how many times, if any, Alice came. She wasn't a screamer and her muscle control didn't send clear signals. I hoped it wasn't zero. As a typical male, I take great pride in being able to help my partners lose control.
Back home, I caught up to Leslie in the kitchen. There was a pitcher of margaritas and two salted glasses on the counter. From what I could see above the counter, she was wearing only a smile; a supposition that was confirmed as she walked around the island to greet me.
"Is now a good time?" she asked after pouring two glasses of spiked limejuice and handing one to me while fondling my cock through my jeans.
"I think I need to take a shower first.
"You don't want to share her with me?"
"As kinky and appealing as that sounds, I think I need to take a few minutes to digest everything."
"Fine. Meet me in the living room after you've scrubbed off all the evidence. And don't bother to dress."
"One question. If Alice comes back for seconds, do I need another hall pass or is the original one still valid?"
Leslie punched me in the arm. "Go get your shower," she said.
When I came into the living, still using a towel to dry my hair, I found Leslie sitting cross leggedly on the sofa, thumbing through a glossy magazine. I assumed it was one of the usual, somewhat racy, women's magazines that sometimes graced our home for her enjoyment, but, on closer examination, I realized I had not seen it before. It was one of those publications you wouldn't leave laying around for children to find. The pictures seemed to feature mostly naked young men with overlarge erections. She laughed when she noticed my reaction. "Since I won't have your attention full time for a while, I thought I'd fill my time, and libido, with something stimulating but not dangerous."
I couldn't disagree with her logic and offered her a live version, although not nearly as large.
Later, after Leslie had had a number of verifiable orgasms and I had managed only a couple of limited leaks, we used the towel to wipe the sofa cushions and sat together with her in my arms. Leslie cooed, "That was wonderful. More loving and tender than our usual romps. I really enjoyed it even though you didn't pump me full of sperm."
"I agree," I offered. "I didn't think I'd enjoy sex if I didn't slam you hard and come until the sun came up."
Leslie suggested, "I think your time with Alice had something to do with it. Alice is not an experienced lover and I believe you were gentle and considerate of her and that attitude came home with you. All I know is I was the beneficiary and I loved it."
"You may be right. If I think about, those days you spent time with very dead Tony, our sex had a different feel. I never connected it until I you told me and just now."
"Do you think we're on to something valuable? Something we may find improves our relationship?"
"Possibly. Do you think adding variation and a little spice, to our sex lives improves our own performances?"
"Doesn't seem logical, but, so far, it does seem so," concluded Leslie.
"Do you think we should expand the hall pass idea to include you?" I asked.
"I can't believe you said that. I think you'd have a strong reaction to my having sex with another man. Remember, you wanted to kill our neighbor. It was a good thing he was already dead or you might have."
"I don't know. I had some sort of revelation when Tony was killed. I could imagine actually killing him and then living with the consequences. I think, no, I know, that I could handle it well enough, especially if I was part of the decision and it added positive value to our fucking."
"Well," added Leslie, "I'd be willing to try it if you're okay with it. But, I'm not going to welch on my commitment to giving you hall passes and I have no desire to have one of my own. At least not anytime soon. I think we should continue with the current path and see how it evolves."
"Sounds good. Come here. I think I might be able to make a deposit this time."
Over the next six or seven months, Leslie was good to her word. She was active in soliciting hall pass partners for me and was successful in a half dozen cases. A number returned for encores and Alice became a regular. Throughout, she never requested a hall pass from me. I offered her one when I saw her flirting with a young buck one evening when we were at a local dine and dance club. She refused, saying "... imagining fucking the stud had to be better than real fucking and she didn't want to be disappointed."
Things were definitely going well. Actually, better than ever. One evening, after a nice barbeque dinner at our home with Mary, I could hear the women laughing in the kitchen as I cleaned the dining room table, and I found myself in the middle, literally, of a three way with them. I had never seen Leslie with another woman and I doubted Alice had ever touched another woman either. When they kissed in front of me things just got out of hand. Before we left the living room, Leslie was on her knees between Alice's thighs and causing Alice to gasp and yell. I'd never managed to make Alice shout and wondered if I should pay attention and learn something. In the bedroom, Alice returned the favor to Leslie and inexplicitly asked me for pointers on how to maximize Leslie's reactions.
I was reluctant to fuck Alice in front of Leslie but when Leslie used her mouth to bring me to attention and then led me to Mary, rubbed my erection between Alice's labia and then pushed my ass to force me inside her, my hesitancy dissolved and I gave Alice one of my better performances. Leslie had no aversion to screwing me in front of Alice and while riding me, directed Alice to sit on my face. Deeply buried primitive reflexes took over and we had a wonderfully exhaustive evening, night and early morning. At breakfast, the women were like schoolgirls who had snuck into the guy's locker room. I kept my enthusiasm to myself, not wanting to screw up a good thing, and just contributed a satisfied smile.
Our lives have been enriched since, maybe because, of our neighbor's death. We rarely talk about hall passes, but we do discuss the opportunities before hand and not afterward. Leslie did, eventually, request time with another guy she met through one of her friends that she brought home for me. Actually, it was her friend's husband and Mary, and then, reluctantly, I encouraged Leslie to give him a try. Leslie did and she hasn't asked for another pass since. I think she was disappointed. Enough so that I haven't seen her friend since.
I haven't seen Alice in quite a while. She's involved with some guy she met at work and I think its going well. I can understand why she doesn't want to expose him to our lifestyle. We've not become swingers although we have had a number of foursomes with people we've met while traveling. I've not used up all the hall passes Leslie promised me.
Leslie and I plan to drift off into old age together. We're actively trying to keep our sexual activity as high as possible as we age. We often laugh about the possibilities for hall passes in the nursing home where the number of women outnumbers the men significantly. I suggested we may want to pass out numbers. She just punched me in the arm and told me to take a cold shower.