Stories Hub / Lesbian Sex / Slipping Ch. 07: Open

Slipping Ch. 07: Open

by smilde_clouds 01/13/18

"Have you ever cheated before?"

With the morning came the hard truth. I'd crossed that border between the faithful and the cheaters--loving every moment of it. I regretted nothing, and part of me felt awful about that. Brianna had spoken so carefully that her question actually eased my heaviness.

"No. You?"

"No."

"How do you feel?" I asked her, wondering if it was the same as me.

"Honestly? Happy." It was a nervous response. "I've given Patrick so much crazy sex through the years. Whatever he wanted. It feels right that I finally got what I wanted."

I understood completely. "There's a difference between lustful play and love-making."

"Yes. Oh my god, yes. Exactly. It's been so long since we really made love."

We talked more and I admitted to feeling a little guilty. Both our husbands were great guys. They were good dads, remembered anniversaries and birthdays, texted us during the day and came home without going by the bar every night. Sure, our marriages had problems. Our husbands were romantic dimwits and sexually ignorant, but they didn't deserve cheating wives. Of course, in spite of that, I wasn't ready to take anything back. I loved Brianna and told her so all the time. Finally, I had her the way I'd craved for so long. Whether our husbands deserved it or not, this affair was happening. Brianna and I were incapable of stopping it.

She smiled and agreed. We kissed passionately, sensitively, which reignited our desire. The graze of her hand on my ribs sent a trill through me, which only increased as she traced my figure and finally let her hand stop between my legs. Her mouth tantalized my neck and breasts as her fingers brought me to a nice clitoral orgasm. I was amazed at how she knew exactly how to touch me. I got on top and returned the favor. It was special to look deep into each other's eye all the way through, seeing a desperate plea turn into utter pleasure, then deep-felt thankfulness. We caressed each other's bodies until a hungry kid knocked on the bedroom door. Back to mom duty—munchkin clothes, Velcro shoes, cartoon toothbrushes and clicking car seats. We all went out for pancakes.

Over 18 months, from January to the following June, something curious and unexpected happened. As we continued our love affair in secret, our marriages actually improved. Brianna and Patrick had never been strained to begin with, but the things that had bothered her dissipated. His hardcore bedroom behavior softened and he became very sweet toward her, surprising her with gifts and helping around the house.

Tye, to my surprise, actually kept a New Years resolution of getting fit. We'd started taking some nutritional products that a friend had spoken to him about. After he'd seen his own body return to the fitness he had at 25, he started selling the products. His efforts were paying off and our family was enjoying some nice side income each month. He was happier, healthier and less stressed. We regularly laughed and joked together. My husband had become as easy to love as my lover.

Brianna and I were probably more patient with the guys because, secretly, we were filling a need that had previously gone unmet. We no longer held our husbands accountable for filling that void and simply appreciated the many other ways they loved us.

I could never have predicted this twist, but I loved it. Every day was happy.

It was a wild adventure trying to hide my sex-filled relationship with Brianna. We had some very tense moments—one time in the closet while Tye was just feet away reading in the bedroom chair, one of my hands giving her fingers to suck on as the other gave her fingers elsewhere. Over time, my guilt had subsided only because I knew Tye was very happy with our marriage. Living the lie was less about selfishly betraying him and more about protecting him from a potentially disastrous revelation. That's what I told myself.

Summer came. I was lying naked with Brianna in a comfortable hotel bed after we'd just finished a wildly fun shower together. Her hand was on the end of a vibrator that was rapidly sliding in and out my engorged slit. How foolish of me to think our fun would've ended in the shower. Joy. Over and over, she pushed it into me, letting me relax in a wonderfully helpless "getting-fucked" feeling, not worrying if it would end too soon. Her tongue was dancing circles around my erect nipple. My eyes rolled back and I felt myself arrive to those rhythmic little spasms that shattered me every time. Second orgasm in twenty minutes. Glory. My thighs closed, needing to shield myself as the heightened sensitivity faded through the aftermath. My body shook and twitched a few times. Then that wonderful warm glow settled on me. Peace.

As I lay there catching my breath, Brianna set the toy aside.

"Wait," I said, "Don't you want to...?"

"I couldn't wait." She was laughing and as out-of-breath as I was. "The look on your face got me. I was doing myself at the same time, came right after you."

I laughed. "Oh shit, our first simultaneous orgasm! I didn't even notice!"

"Second one was good?"

"Mmmm. Oh yeah."

"Me too."

I'm not sure which is better, the pre-sex kiss or the post-sex kiss. The one she crawled up and gave me was pretty fucking epic.

We were on a weekend getaway with both families. The kids and husbands were at a park while we "watched a chick-flick and did our nails." The movie part was a lie, but we did want do our nails. I stood up, went to get my makeup bag and returned wearing a hotel robe. Brianna now had shorts on and was pulling a t-shirt down over her breasts. There it was in my mind, that same recurring thought, the one about how perfect her body was. I smiled to myself.

"What color?" We settled on a couple shades of orange and started.

"Um, I have something startling to tell you, Brianna said, "I've been nervous about it."

Brianna had a concerned look on her face. I said nothing, just waited.

"Patrick and I got into a big, BIG fight before we left town ... because," she looked down, then back up again, "He knows about us."

I gasped. Her voice had not sounded calmer than I would've expected having said something like that.

"And he's okay with it," she added.

"Oh...okay. That's surprising."

"Somewhat. He wants an open marriage. If I can be with you, he says, he wants a sidepiece too. His words, not mine."

"A side piece? What the hell does that mean?"

"Exactly."

"This isn't just casual sex."

"I know."

"Is that what he thinks?"

"That's what we fought about. I tried to explain that you're fulfilling something that he can't, something deeper than sex. He said he needs someone also, to fulfill his sexual needs. Not as deep, but still a need."

"Uhh, does he realize what a pig he is for saying that? You've always given him whatever he wanted."

She just shrugged. I could tell she was heartbroken. Since I'd first known her, even before our workouts, she'd been more attentive to her husband than anyone I'd ever known. Now, for her to hear that it wasn't enough must have been crushing.

"I'm sorry."

I looked down and kept painting my nails.

"Is he gonna tell Tye?"

She shook her head.

After the initial shock and uneasiness wore off, I was a little envious of my friend. It sucks to be found out, but at least she didn't need to hide anymore. Everything was open and honest for her and Patrick. True, if he knew about us then her hand had been forced, but maybe it was for the better. Obviously, letting Patrick have his own 'side piece' would be a challenge. She'd definitely have to deal with some jealousy, letting her husband woo and fuck another woman. It was a shallow, if not shitty move from a guy I had thought highly of. (Not that I had any right to judge, of course.) Bottom line, I'd rather deal with jealousy than the guilt of betraying someone I loved.

"Maybe I should tell Tye," I thought out loud after a few minutes of silence.

"He might be okay with it like Patrick."

"He might also flip out. Or he might be crushed by it—but act like he was okay."

"Maybe. You know how much guys go crazy over lesbian stuff. It's, like, universal."

"In videos, yeah, but not from their wives. Wouldn't he be all sad realizing he wasn't enough?"

"Yeah, but then his fantasy side would probably take over."

Most likely, she was right. I'd never ventured to talk with Tye about his sexual fantasies, but I had a feeling he was no different than the norm. He probably had fantasized about me with another woman. Then, I had an idea.

"What if ... you texted Patrick and had him talk to Tye and get a feel for what he thought of this sort of thing."

She smiled and grabbed her phone.

It turned out to be a really fun hour of indirect conversation. Patrick was brilliant, reading a text from Brianna, bringing it up with my husband in a guy-talk way, then shooting back a quick reply. It felt childish and R-rated at the same time, but the revelations proved to be worth the immaturity.

Tye was no monk. He completely fell in line with the guys-love-lesbians stereotype. He'd also seen his fair share of internet porn. No surprises. I rolled my eyes. Guys were such horn-dogs. (There I was again, entertaining my own hypocrisy, as if I'd never been utterly overcome with lust before.) But the deeper things Patrick unveiled completely surprised me: my husband had a cuckold fantasy. And he wanted to watch. Damn.

I tried to process how a guy could want to watch his wife cheat on him, but gave up without any real understanding. It's nonsensical, but it is what it is, and I accepted it.

This, of course, presented an obvious idea: a threesome with Tye as an onlooker. Thinking about it made me feel a bit slutty and I hated it. More importantly, although nothing had been said, Brianna looked sickened. It represented another crazy sex thing that he wanted for himself. I stood with her. It was an immediate "no" from us. Yet, underneath all of that, undeniably present, was that naughty feeling that I'd first felt so many months ago during our workouts. It was there and it would certainly grow, as these new truths became old news. At the moment, still overwhelmed by the way everything that had just changed, I only barely sensed it: a dangerous, instinctive urge to do something taboo.

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