Heather Brown - Blow girl

Later, we lay side by side on the floor, exhausted from our fucking. Finally, after a long period of silence while we both caught our breath, and I bathed in the afterglow of my multiple orgasms, Tom propped himself up on an elbow, and said, "Honeysuckle, I have another present for you."

"Oh, what?" I said anxiously.

"Well," he said, "this is not the easiest thing to say, but I might as well come right out with it. I feel lousy about the way I've been treating you."

Languishing in the afterglow of our fuck, I was willing to forgive and forget anything, saying, "That's all right, darling, I know your job keeps you busy, and you're just trying to do the best you can for me."

"No," he insisted, "that's the easy way to describe what's been going on. The fact is that I haven't done my best. I've ignored you for so long that I wonder why you haven't left me."

"Don't be silly!" I said, shocked. What was he trying to get at? I wondered.

"Starting now," he continued, "I'm going to make it up to you."

"You already have," I sighed, parting my thighs and rubbing my cunt.

"No, seriously," he said, "I'm really going to make it up to you. How exciting can your life be with me working all the time, always coming home late. It seems like we hardly ever see each other any more. I feel like I owe you a little more excitement in life. My life is interesting with my job and all, but what about yours?"

He seemed so sincere with what he was saying, and I welcomed the attention so, that I didn't dare break the spell by mentioning that my life would be very interesting if he had kept his promise about a house and children. So I said nothing as he continued talking.

"Honeysuckle," he said, "I think it's time, well, it's time

Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe he was thinking the same things I was, and that he was going to suggest that we get started on our family, better late than never. "Yes, Tom?" I responded with tingling anticipation.

"Well, darling," he said earnestly, looking me straight in the eye, "I think it's time we broadened our horizons to bring some excitement back into our lives. I've made friends with some people who are into something that seems like, if we tried it, would bring us closer together than ever."

"What are you talking about?" 00:59 / 00:59ing more curious with each moment.

"Here goes," he said, "I know you're going to be surprised. These friends of mine are members of a group where the members get together once or twice a week and completely let their hair down, if you know what I mean."

"No, I'm not sure I do," I said, puzzled. "You mean group therapy?"

"Well, sort of," he said, "but not with a shrink. It's a lot more intimate and honest than that."

"I'm not sure I understand. What exactly do they do?" I asked.

"They make love," he said simply.

"Make love!" I blurted out incredulously. "Do you mean wife-swapping?"

He laughed uneasily and said, "No, that's not what it is at all, that's just a lot of idiotic publicity a lot of uptight puritans have made about it. It's actually a form of communication, a kind of sensitivity training. The purpose of it is to actually bring husbands and wives closer together. Everyone I know who is involved with the group says they feel closer to their husbands and wives than they ever did, and that's what I want for us, to be even closer than we were when we first fell in love."

"What's involved?" I asked suspiciously. Because I hadn't absolutely refused, he seemed heartened and his tone of voice became more confident. "Well, like I said, they get together, maybe three or four couples, at someone's house for probably dinner and a few drinks. Then after a while everyone sits around talking, discussing their feelings, you know, their secret fantasies and desires, and so forth. Everyone is completely honest with each other, and everyone starts feeling closer and closer as the evening goes on. They start caring for each other as human beings to the point where they actually feel love for one another. Eventually, the most natural thing for them to do is to act out the way they feel by making love with each other."

"You mean you'd be with someone else's wife?" I asked. "And I'd be with some other man?"

"Just physically for a short time, but, actually, we'd be doing it for each other. As we became more sensitive to others, it's only natural that we'd become more sensitive to each other. My friends tell me that after an evening like the one I described, they can't wait to get home and get into the sack. How does that sound to you?"

"Most unusual," I said, not being able to think of any other response.

"I know it's a big step for us," he said, "but I think it'll add a lot of happiness to our lives. Anyway, my surprise is that I've arranged for us to be introduced to the group tomorrow night. Isn't it exciting?"

I stood up and walked over to the couch and took a blanket off it and wrapped it around me, then sat down and lit a cigarette. "To tell you the truth," I said, "it's a lot more scary than it is exciting. Are you sure this is what you want to do, Tom?"

"Very much," he said, nodding his head.

I was very confused. I had no desire to make love to anyone else but Tom. My problem was not that I wanted to fuck another man, my problem was that I wanted to fuck the man I already had more than I had recently.

Still, there was a core of truth in what Tom had said in that it was apparent we had been drifting apart, and that the spark in our relationship had been fading for some time. Anything that might bring us closer together might be worth trying, even this. And I had to admit that the way Tom presented the group and its purpose sounded like it made some sense. Maybe my shock to it had just been that I had never thought about things in the way he'd presented them before. Also, I had tried to be a good wife and leave the final decisions to my husband, and he was so intent on his proposal that I didn't have the heart to start disagreeing with him now. Finally, I said, "If you're sure it's what you want, Tom, I'm willing to try it."

"Oh, thank you," he said, coming over to me and kissing me. "I can promise you, you won't be sorry."

My vow of celibacy was easy to make, but living up to it was hard. My heart ached for love and my cunt screamed to have a cock inside it or a hot mouth licking it. I tried to ignore both urges, but frequently they were too much. As a compromise I bought a vibrator and masturbated with it when my craving for sex seemed ready to overwhelm me. But, sometimes, even that wasn't enough and I found myself out in the streets or in bars trying to pick up men to fuck me.

Still, however, I maintained my resolve not to get involved, and whatever sex I had was on a one-night-stand basis. Most of the time I tried to keep busy improving myself and it seemed like I was always in motion. Fortunately, the schooling I had gotten while married to Tom enabled me to get a decent job for the first time in my life, which meant I could afford a nice apartment that I could spend time decorating. What helped me keep myself together as much as anything was the volunteer work I took up at the children's hospital.

Months went by, and before I knew it I had passed my twenty-second birthday. Still, I was painfully aware through every waking hour, and frequently through my dreams, that I was missing something, and that something was sex on a continuous basis. I confided in Dolly, my co-worker at the office, and she wound up repaying the confidence I placed in her by concluding that I was "plain sex-hungry".

And now, after all this time, I had given in to the lure of an attractive man and accepted this luncheon date with Perry Middleton. Although part of me yearned to receive sexual gratification, I had developed the non-sexual part of my thinking to such an extent that I knew for my own self-respect and emotional well-being I had to keep a safe, respectable distance from him.