This story is inspired by, stolen from, or (as they
say in the Art world) homage to the wonderful, much longer story by quinn
rogan, “Linda's All-Over Tan” (http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=28930).
I read that story and so liked some of its ideas that I began to think of
small variations on parts of it. I extracted only a small part of the
total set of actions, changed the motivations, and rewrote it as the fantasy
took me. The result, below, is frankly a rip-off. But,
as the saying goes, there are only seven original stories, and six of them
are stolen. So with apologies and thanks to quinn rogan, here’s my
version of one of his ideas.
by Margery Pinchwife
(c) Margery Pinchwife, 2002
Martha and I had been married for 17 years. We had
decided, even before we married, that we didn’t want any children and never
regretted that decision. It turned out to be a particularly good decision
because, with me only earning a low-level civil servant’s salary and Martha
unable to find a full-time job, we were barely able to make ends meet, and
certainly wouldn’t have been able to if we had a child to care for and Martha
couldn’t work. Lack of money was a continuous problem for us.
Martha’s part-time job in a library had the virtue that
it left her time to indulge her passion, playing the piano. We had,
by dint of careful husbanding of our resources, somehow managed to buy a
used upright piano at which she spent hours almost every day trying to master
more and more difficult pieces. The piano didn’t have a great tone
to it, and we couldn’t afford a professional tuner - I learned how to do
a creditable job, but could never get the high notes quite tight enough -
but Martha still managed to produce some beautiful music. She was really
quite talented and would have profited immensely from first-class lessons,
if only we could have afforded them. Martha’s skills were well beyond
the point where she’d get any benefit from any piano teacher within our financial
reach. Still, she kept at it doggedly and it brought us both a lot
of pleasure. Fortunately, the library had a rather extensive collection
of sheet music, so at least we were spared that expense.
It was while she was working at the library that Martha
met Susan, who had come in looking for some obscure piece of music.
Susan, it turned out, also played the piano and, while Martha was hunting
down the piece of music, they had had a very enjoyable discussion about music
that ended with them exchanging phone numbers with the promise that they’d
get together for lunch sometime soon.
Barely a few days later, Susan called to invite Martha
to her house for lunch, an invitation that Martha readily accepted. When
she returned late in the afternoon after the lunch, Martha was ecstatic.
First, she and Susan really got on with each other. They had had a
wonderful time just talking to each other. Martha sang Susan’s praises
and felt that Susan reciprocated the feeling of admiration. Second,
although Martha had known by Susan’s expensive, tailored clothes when they
first met that Susan was well-to-do, it turned out that that was a major
understatement. Martha was enthralled with Susan’s house.
Susan lived in the most elegant section of town.
After leaving the public road, Martha had driven down a long, tree-line avenue,
eventually coming to a large circular drive in front of the house.
The house was build of yellow stone, a two-story middle section with one-story
wings on either side. To enter, Martha had mounted the two steps to
the large front door. From there she had looked back at the landscaping,
which was done in the “natural” manner, woods and trees and grassy areas
all designed to look natural. Susan had given Martha a little tour
of the garden, during which she saw that there were charming “viewing points”
throughout the garden from which one could look back at the house and get
a lovely scene. This landscaping surrounded the house, broken only
in the back by a kitchen garden on one side, a path leading to the garage,
and a large swimming pool surrounded by a patio with tables, chairs, and
air-mattresses for sunning.
But what appealed most to Martha was one of the few rooms
she got to see inside the house. It was a high-ceilinged music
room containing a grand piano and decorated with wall paintings of satyrs
and nymphs romping through a garden, very much like the one around the house,
and accompanied by fawns playing pan pipes. The windows, which the
paintings surrounded, looked out on the garden, giving the appearance
that these wood creatures were actually in Susan’s garden. This was
a far cry from Martha’s “music room” at home - a large but low-ceilinged
room that was shared by her upright piano and my small desk, decorated only
with a print of Vermeer’s “The Music Lesson,” and with a view of a bus stop.
They had had a small, elegant lunch evidently prepared
by Susan’s cook and served by her maid. They had talked music for hours
and Martha had even tried sight-reading one of the pieces Susan was working
on. And what excited Martha the most, Susan was taking lessons from
the rather renowned Madam Obolovsky. Every Tuesday morning, Madam Obolovsky
would come to give Susan her lesson, and Susan had invited Martha to come
and watch next Tuesday’s lesson.
Martha walked on air for the rest of the week in anticipation
of that lesson. This was as close as she was likely to get to anyone
of Madam Obolovsky’s stature. She was sure that she would learn from
just watching the lesson, in addition to the thrill of seeing Madam O teach.
On the morning of the lesson, although all she expected
to do was sit quietly and watch, I could see that Martha was nervous.
But when I got home from work, it was an entirely different story.
If she had been ecstatic after her lunch with Susan, she was out of her mind
that evening. It took quite a bit of calming her down before I could
get the full story from her in any coherent fashion. First, when she
got there she had met Susan’s husband Peter, who it turned out would stay
around to watch the lesson. He was, Martha told me, basically ordinary
looking - well-built with a full, dark head of hair but with otherwise plain
features - however his air of quiet confidence, which undoubtedly reflected
his wealthy upbringing, made him look rather attractive. Then, Madam
Obolovsky turned out to be more wonderful than even Martha had expected.
In addition to being able to draw out the absolute best from Susan, who was
quite a respectable pianist according to Martha, Madam O had also shown an
interest in Martha when she learned of Martha’s piano playing. She
had insisted that Martha play the piece that she had sight-read at the previous
lunch, and had then been extravagant in her praise. More, she had offered
to take Martha on as a student. Because of time constraints, she could
only offer her lessons right after Susan’s and at Susan’s house. She
told Martha what her price was and invited her to call if she was interested.
Martha had been in seventh heaven with the offer, even
though she knew that she couldn’t make that imposition on Susan and that,
in any event, we could never afford it. It just thrilled her to receive
that kind of praise from Madam Obolovsky. What happened later, after
Madam O left was even more exciting.
They had decided to eat lunch on the patio. The
meal had been prepared ahead by the cook, but Susan had to serve it because
“Tuesday is the servants’ day off.” While Susan was inside getting
the lunch, Peter had taken advantage of their privacy to encourage Martha
to accept Madam O’s offer. In his quiet yet forceful manner, he dismissed
Martha’s concern about the imposition and, when Martha admitted that we couldn’t
afford the lessons, insisted that he’d pay for them. His motivation,
he said, was that Susan didn’t make friends easily, that she had spoken so
highly of Martha to him during the past week, and that the cost of the lessons,
though perhaps beyond our budget, really was completely negligible to him.
Martha, of course, declined his offer, but he insisted. He explained
that their wealth had always stood between Susan and the possibility of friendship
with people she liked, that this time there was an opportunity for the money
to actually help the friendship develop, and that there would be no obligation
on Martha’s part other than to enjoy herself. Susan would really enjoy
having Martha visit every Tuesday and would profit by watching Madam O teaching
Martha. Additionally, Peter knew that Susan would love to spend the
rest of the mornings with Martha and have lunch with her. It would
really make Susan happy. He insisted that he wasn’t offering this for
Martha’s sake but rather for Susan’s. Eventually, Martha agreed that
she would discuss it with me and let him know.
By the time I had got home that evening, Martha had convinced
herself that it would be ok to accept Peter’s generosity and was ready to
convince me. I wasn’t happy about accepting Peter’s charity.
It seemed to me to be way out of line, but I could see how much it meant
to Martha and I knew how badly she had been wanting lessons from a really
good teacher. Really, I had very little choice, I had to go along with
it. As soon as I agreed, Martha was on the phone, first to Susan and
Peter and then to Madam Obolovsky. A half hour later everything had
been set up. Her first lesson would begin the following Tuesday, right
That Tuesday turned out to be a beautiful day. It
was pleasantly warm late April day, the sky was a cloudless blue, wild flowers
were in bloom throughout Susan’s garden, and Martha was more nervous than
she had been on our wedding day. In the evening she gave me a full
report. Madam Obolovsky had spend much of the first lesson getting
to know Martha’s capabilities, her strengths and weaknesses, always offering
praise and encouragement, but not hesitating to correct faults and point
out weaknesses. It was just what Martha needed. On the basis
of her observations, Madam O had laid out a plan for the next several weeks,
choosing pieces for Martha to practice that would let her work on her biggest
needs. Following their two lessons, Martha and Susan had been exhausted.
Since it was such a beautiful day, Susan had suggested they go for a swim
in the pool. Of course, Martha hadn’t brought a bathing suit, but Susan
insisted that they never wore them. They were completely isolated,
out of anyone’s view, and there were just the two of them there because the
servants were off, as they were every Tuesday. So they had spent the
rest of the morning naked, first swimming and then lying out on mattresses
by the pool and sunning themselves. In order to avoid the damage of
the sun’s rays, Susan had been well prepared with sun-block, which they had
applied liberally, each doing each other’s back. Then they had lazed
around for several hours. Eventually, they had dressed and Susan had
brought out a salad for lunch. It was well into the afternoon before
Martha got home and by then she was sufficiently relaxed that she could begin
to attack the homework Madam O had assigned.
Of course I asked what Susan looked like naked.
Martha gave me an arch look and would only say that Susan had a “lovely,
large-breasted body,” but would not provide further details.
So the two of them developed a routine. Every Tuesday,
Martha would go to Susan’s early enough to watch Susan’s lesson. Then,
after Martha had her lesson and Madam O had left, they’d take off their clothes,
put on their sun-block, go swimming, and then lie around in the sun until
they were ready to dress and eat lunch. It wasn’t long before I could
hear the improvement in Martha’s piano playing. I had never seen her
Then, one Tuesday evening in May, Martha said that something
embarrassing had happened. After their swim, Martha had closed her
eyes and was enjoying lying naked in the sun, when she suddenly heard Peter’s
voice coming from right next to her. She had opened her eyes and seen
him standing there, fully dressed in a business suit and tie, looking at
her. Having nothing to cover herself with, she had made a futile attempt
to hide her breasts and crotch with her hands. Peter, on the other
hand, had shown no signs of embarrassment. Quite the contrary, he had
continued to look at her boldly and admonished her for trying to cover up.
“You have too beautiful a body to cover up, you’re very attractive, you know”
he had said. “Besides, I’ve already seen you and in any event I’m leaving
now. I just came to remind Susan about the dinner tonight.” Somehow,
it had then seemed silly, or pointless, to try to cover herself with her
hands, so Susan had, reluctantly she said, brought her hands down by her
sides. Peter looked for another moment or two and then left.
When Martha had spoken of her embarrassment to Susan, Susan had belittled
it. “We always swim nude here, even when the servants are around,”
she had said, “so Peter just took it for granted. It didn’t meant anything.”
She had managed to get Martha to admit that we had once been to a nude beach
and said it was just like that, nothing to fuss about.
Still, it bothered Martha and she didn’t know what to
do. She wanted to continue with her friendship with Susan, and
she certainly wanted to continue the lessons, but she didn’t know what she
should do about Peter. I wasn’t terribly fond of Peter staring at the
naked body of my wife, but I knew how much the lessons and Susan meant to
her. “Well,” I said, “just check if Peter’s around before you take
off your clothes next time.” This simple solution seemed to satisfy
Martha and any further misgivings disappeared as she turned her attention
to her piano exercises.
The following Tuesday evening, I asked Martha if Peter
had again been there that day. “Yes,” she replied somewhat hesitantly.
“So what happened?”
“We all took off our clothes.” She was blushing
It seemed that Peter had come in sometime during Martha’s
lesson. She hadn’t noticed him there until Madam Obolovsky was leaving.
He had praised Martha for her playing and then, after a little more small
talk, had said “Why don’t we all go for a swim?” At that point, he
and Susan had begun taking off their clothing. Martha said she had
felt that it would be rude and ungrateful to reject them now, so she hadn’t
thought she had any choice but to join them. At first she had felt
very self conscious in Peter’s presence, both of them naked, but after a
half hour or so of his looking at her and her somewhat more surreptitious
looking at him, she got used to the nudity, and they spent the rest of the
morning comfortably swimming and sunning.
“So you looked at him?” She nodded. “Did you
like what you saw?”
“He’s got a good body and...” she turned away from me,
“he’s rather big.”
“Big.” I could only repeat her word.
“He hangs down pretty far.” She paused. “Do
you mind my looking at him?”
I didn’t mind her looking at him, it was his looking at
her that disturbed me. But, thinking back to our nude-beach experience,
I convinced myself that it wasn’t that big a deal. Certainly not in
comparison to the joy that she was getting out of her lessons and her friendship
“No, I don’t mind. Look all you want.” I said,
with as big a smile as I could muster.
My reward was a hug and a kiss, which led to considerably
more. So I guess I had to thank Peter’s big cock for some pretty exciting
sex that night.
Thereafter, that became the new routine. After every
lesson, Peter would show up and the three of them would swim naked and then
lie around in the sun. Despite the sun-block, Martha was developing
a modest tan and seemed pleased that she had no tan lines. Her piano
was progressing nicely and her happiness was reflected in everything she
did. This included our sex life, which seemed to grow richer and fuller
in proportion to the joy she was feeling.
It was shortly after this that Peter raised the issue
of the piano. It seemed that they had what he called a great opportunity
to upgrade the piano Susan had been using. Although the new piano would
be expensive, Peter’s accountants had worked out a way that, by taking advantage
of various tax laws, would allow them to get the new piano virtually without
cost. The plan depended, however, on Martha and I having enough room
for the old grand piano that she and Susan had been taking their lessons
on. If we did, and Martha readily acknowledged that we did (we’d have
to move my desk into the bedroom, but she was sure I would go along with
it), and were willing to give up the upright that we owned, then the following
deal would work. Susan would get the new piano. She, in turn,
would rent her current grand piano to Martha. Martha would pay for
this by giving Susan the upright plus $1 per year. This rental would
include not only the use of the grand piano, but the regular professional
tuning of it. Somehow, because of the peculiarities of the tax laws
plus whatever they could get for our old upright, this would save them enough
to virtually pay for the new piano.
Of course, for Martha, it meant she’d have a real grand
piano to practice on instead of the inadequately tuned upright. It
would also get me out of the tuning business. It seemed like a boon
all around. Still, I had reservations because it seemed we’d be even
more obligated to Peter and Susan. In addition to getting the Madam
Obolovsky lessons, which they were paying for, Martha would also be playing
on their piano. We’d have given up the one we owned for one that, strictly
speaking, would belong to Peter and Susan. But I couldn’t refuse Martha
this wonderful opportunity when it would so obviously mean so much to her.
So we agreed and Peter quickly arranged for the piano swap. For his
tax purposes, we had to sign a formal rental agreement, in which we gave
them our upright and agreed to pay the $1 per year.
The next day, Martha was playing in our home on the grand.
Aside from the fact that it was tuned better, the sound was so much richer
and fuller that it almost brought tears to my eyes to hear her so happily
playing on it.
A few weeks later, another change in routine occurred.
Normally after they had undressed, Susan would put the sun-block on Martha’s
back first. Then Martha would do the rest of her body and then do Susan’s
back. This Tuesday, however, before Martha could start on Susan, Peter
had taken the sun-block from her. Susan had lain down and Peter had
spread the sun-block over her back. However, he hadn’t stopped there,
but had started on her buttocks and the backs of her legs, even in the crack
of her buttocks. Susan had then turned over and Peter had put the sun-block
all over her front, including her breasts and nipples, and between her legs,
giving ample attention to her labia.
Then, Susan had returned the favor. Peter had lain
down on his stomach and Susan had rubbed sun-block all over his back, including
between his buttocks. Then he had turned over and Susan had done his
front, even his genitalia. She had rubbed the sun-block into his scrotum
fairly carefully, and then poured more sun-block into her hand, wrapped her
hand around his prick, and stroked it from top to bottom. Since her
fingers didn’t reach all the way around, she had had to do this several times
to be sure to cover it all. All this in full view of Martha.
Finally Peter had got up, his rigid prick sticking out, and they had all
gone out to go swimming. On the way out, Susan had said to Martha almost
innocently, “He once got a sun burn there, which was pretty awful, so he
doesn’t take any chances now.”
My first thought, when she told me this, was that Martha
should quit. But now there was the piano in addition to the Madam Obolovsky
lessons and the friendship with Susan. When I commented on Peter’s
exhibitionism, she said, “Well, if you had a prick that size, I bet you’d
be an exhibitionist too.” When I questioned whether she should continue
the lessons, she looked at me longingly, her eyes begging me to let her continue.
Seeing that she didn’t take it very seriously, I couldn’t refuse her.
If she was willing to pay the price of tolerating Peter’s behavior, I couldn’t
deny her what meant so much to her.
And so, for every succeeding Tuesday, well into July,
after the piano lessons Martha would watch Peter fondling Susan as he applied
the sun-block all over her body, and then watch Susan rubbing sun-block all
over his body, finally with particular attention to his balls and cock, ensuring
that when she was finished he’d have a large, raging hard-on.
Being erect seemed to be Peter’s goal. All through
the morning, as they would swim or lay in the sun, he would stroke, or fondle,
or embrace Susan. These gestures seemed to help him maintain his erection
pretty much the whole morning. Susan had not seemed at all embarrassed
by this display of erotic affection. Martha said she tried not to let
it bother her and, after a while, had got used to seeing Peter rigidly sticking
While I was not at all pleased by this sun-block rubbing,
I had to admit that Martha had never been happier and, surprisingly, neither
had I. Martha’s happiness was reflected in her every action, which
naturally made my life more pleasant. Further, her improving technique
and confidence at the piano filled the house with more and more wonderful
music, music that she passionately threw herself into. Nor was that
her only exhibition of passion. Our love life, especially the sex that
went with it, was now fuller, more varied, and more rewarding. These
were good times, indeed, for which we were both willing to tolerate a little
of Peter’s exhibitionism.
Then, early in August, the next step happened. Susan
had been lying on a mattress, enjoying the sun. Peter, his penis erect,
had sat down beside her and begun stroking her breasts. This always
embarrassed Martha, she said, so she had turned away. When she had
happened to turned back a few minutes later, she had discovered Peter kneeling
between Susan’s legs in the process of thrusting his now ever-present erection
into Susan’s cunt. Martha had let out a gasp and turned away again,
but Peter had insisted that she turn around. “Don’t turn your eyes
away from love,” he had said. “Turn away from violence, from hate,
from brutality, but never from love.” He had begun thrusting in and
out of Susan. “Sit down here and watch the most beautiful act in the
world,” he had insisted. Not wanting to argue under the circumstances,
and fearing that to turn away now would be taken as an insult, Martha had
reluctantly sat down and watched the rutting couple, watched Peter’s ass
rise and fall, faster and faster, watched Susan’s legs wrap around Peter
as if to pull him further into her, watched as their passion became more
and more audible, and watched as they came to their impassioned climax.
She had sat there rigidly, motionless until they had finished
their love-making, decoupled, risen, and gone inside. After a few moments,
she had hesitantly followed them in to where they were dressing. There
she had quickly pulled her own clothes on. Then Susan had put out lunch
as if nothing unusual had happened and they had all eaten without any reference
to what had just gone on.
When Martha told me about this, I felt that I had to do
something. Watching Peter with a hard-on was one thing, but I could
not tolerate the idea of Martha being a lone voyeur for Peter’s fucking,
even if he didn’t actually touch her. However, figuring out what
to do to prevent this was not so simple. The obvious thing would have
been to end the lessons, but considering how much they meant to Martha, I
felt that I couldn’t do that. There had to be someway for her to continue
without being subject to this kind of behavior.
It finally occurred to me that if I were to accompany
Martha to Susan’s, ostensibly to listen to the lesson, Peter would be unlikely
to continue as he had. Further, I thought, in the unlikely event that
Peter did continue in my presence, I’d be there to shield Martha, to establish
what the boundaries had to be. If Peter were to embrace Susan, I would
embrace Martha, making it clear that any sex Martha would be involved in
would be with me. If Peter were to somehow insist that we watch him
fuck Susan, then Martha and I would watch as a pair. In short, I would
convert Peter’s bizarre three-person sex into two pairs of ordinary two-person
sex. If that, in the extreme case, turned out to involve Martha and
me screwing while Peter and Susan watched, so be it. At least it wouldn’t
be just Peter and the two women. However, I was reasonably confident
that it would never come to that. In my presence, I felt, it was exceeding
unlikely that Peter would be such an exhibitionist. I felt that nothing
beyond some nude swimming would occur. Further, I felt that one visit
would be sufficient to establish my presence and get Peter to behave, so
I wouldn’t have to go every week.
The problem was that for me to get off from my civil service
job on even one Tuesday was not easy. It was our busiest day of the
week and to get off would require a series of approvals. Except in
a medical emergency, which I could hardly claim this to be, it would take
at least a couple of weeks for the approvals to go through. The sooner
I started, the sooner I’d get the approvals, so Wednesday morning, first
thing, I put in the request.
The next Tuesday, everything was the same - the undressing,
the sun-block, the caresses of Susan, and finally, Peter kneeling between
Susan’s legs, about to fuck her. Martha had tried to busy herself elsewhere,
but Peter had called her over.
“I know why you turn away, you feel left out.”
Martha had stammered something. She certainly hadn’t
wanted to participate.
“Did it excite you last week, watching us make love?”
She hadn’t wanted to reply, but when it became clear that
Peter was going to wait expectantly for an answer, no matter how long it
too, Martha had reluctantly admitted that, yes, she had felt a certain amount
“Well, then that’s it. Sit down here, watch us,
and as you feel the excitement, react, express yourself, stroke yourself,
bring yourself along with us. Won’t it be wonderful if we all three
Peter then had slid his prick into Susan and begun humping
her. “Go on,” he had called to Martha, “stroke yourself, enjoy the
She told me that it was somehow a command she couldn’t
refuse. The excitement of the sexual tension, the visual stimulus,
her sense of obligation, all had combined to reinforce the command.
As Peter’s large cock had slid in and out of Susan, Martha said her hands
almost of their own accord had begun moving on her body. One hand had
softly fondled a nipple, first gently stroking it, then as it hardened pulling
on it, twisting it, squeezing it. The other hand somehow had found
her crotch, fingered her labia, and starting rubbing her clit, softly at
first, then harder, in time with the beat of Peter and Susan’s panting bodies.
“I lost control,” she said, “I stroked faster and faster until Susan’s orgasm
set off a chain reaction and we all came together.”
After they had all calmed down, Peter had risen and helped
the two women up. “That was so nice,” he had said. Susan then
had kissed Martha on the cheek as they had gone in to dress and set up the
This story upset me terribly, not only for the intimacy
that Martha had shared with Peter and Susan, but because it had even exceeded
anything Martha had ever done with me.
“You’ve never masturbated in front of me.” I said that
evening, when she told me about the day’s events.
“It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong,” Martha said. She
paused, hesitated, and then finally said, “But I have to admit that...well,
that I enjoyed it. All day I’ve been thinking about it and the more
I think about it, the hornier I get. I could hardly wait for you to
come home.” She came at me then with a passion. And during our
subsequent activities, she showed me what she had up to then only showed
Peter and Susan. With me, however, she didn’t have to bring herself
to orgasm. I was there to help her.
By the time we had finished it was too late to start making
supper, so we sent out for pizza.
In spite of the good sex, I felt frustrated. However,
as my day off was still more than a week away, so there was nothing I could
do for the time being besides grumbling to myself while I waited.
The next Tuesday Martha went to her lesson as usual.
The lesson had been one of her best yet, she said, and after it there had
been a repeat of the previous week, except that this time Martha was a more
willing participant. For a change, Susan had been on top of Peter,
her large breasts swinging from side to side as she rose up and down on him.
Peter’s eyes, however, had been fixed on Martha. Martha admitted
that she was so excited that she had actually turned and spread her legs
to give Peter the best view as she rubbed her cunt in time with Susan’s humping
on Peters stiff prick. This time Martha had started to come first,
but her gasps had quickly set off a reaction in Susan, whose violent trembling
had brought Peter to his climax. Martha said she couldn’t help but
return their smiles as they were getting dressed.
Understand me. I was furious that Martha was involved
in these threesomes, even if she kept her distance from the other two.
But insofar as I could tolerate it, the rest of my life was good. Martha
was happy. She somehow managed to avoid consideration of those events
and spent her time concentrating on the piano and on making life better for
both of us. She derived tremendous satisfaction from the musical progress
she was making, and that satisfaction brought me pleasure. It would
have been the best of days for me if only I could suppress those images of
her masturbating in front of Peter and Susan while they fucked. In
short, I was happy when I wasn’t in a black funk.
My approval for a day off finally came through, so the
following Tuesday I accompanied Martha to her lesson. She was not keen
on my coming with her. Before we left the house, she looked at me and
almost tearfully begged, “don’t spoil it.” She understood and agreed
with my plan, but she was worried that somehow I’d do something that would
mess up everything. I told her that I expected that my presence alone
would end the exhibitionism/voyeurism, and that even if it didn’t, I’d do
my best not to create a scene.
The lessons were wonderful. Madam Obolovsky worked
lovingly with Susan. Susan would play a passage, then Madam O would
suggest that she play a little slower here, a little louder here, and so
on. Susan would then repeat the passage and the difference was palpable.
Where Susan had trouble playing a difficult sequence, Madam O would patiently
get her to repeat it, giving her words of encouragement until Susan got it
With Martha, the lesson was of a different sort.
Whereas with Susan, Madam O had talked about technique, with Martha it was
about emotion. What was the piece “saying”? How did it express
itself to you? How else might one interpret this passage? What
do you feel at this point? Then, when Martha played, the music seemed
to sing with a life of its own, somehow changing from a mechanical pressing
of keys to an emotional experience. Madam O was clearly pleased.
She said that she was glad that I had come because Martha had passed a milestone
that day. She felt that Martha was now ready for a recital and maybe,
after that, even a competition. If Martha wanted, Madam Obolovsky would
try to set up the recital for early October. Martha was delirious with
joy. “Of course,” Madam O added, looking a little questioningly, “this
would involve some extra expenses.”
Before Martha or I could react, Peter said “Oh, that’s
“Good, I’ll have my assistant call you about possible
dates and next week we can talk about what you might play.” Martha
gazed open-mouthed as Madam Obolovsky gathered her things and left.
There were congratulations all around. Susan embraced
Martha. Peter insisted that he get some champaign and put it on ice
to celebrate at lunch. And Martha looked as if she didn’t know what
was going on. For Madam Obolovsky to ask her to do a recital meant
that Madam O thought Martha was playing on the highest level. From
practicing alone on an upright, she had improved to the point where she would
play for Madam O’s friends in the music world, she’d gain recognition, she’d
really be a pianist. It might even be the start of a career.
It was all too wonderful for her.
After he had put the champaign on ice, Peter said, “Let’s
go swimming,” and immediately began undressing. Susan was not far behind
him and a moment later Martha started to strip. She gave me that “don’t
spoil it” look, so I had no choice. It was clear that my presence was
not going to inhibit the nude bathing. I hadn’t really expected that
it would and had previously resigned myself to the likelihood of this, so
I went along and took off my clothes, taking advantage of the opportunity
to admire Susan’s “lovely, large-breasted body.”.
A few minutes later we were all naked and Peter was spreading
sun-block on Susan. I had brought extra sun-block to allow Martha and
me to put it on ourselves at the same time Peter and Susan were doing each
other. So while Martha was putting sun-block on herself, Peter was
putting it on Susan’s nipples. And as I was putting it on me, Susan was rubbing
it onto Peter’s stiffening prick, which, I had to admit, was certainly large.
I was really unprepared for this. Deep down I had not expected this
stimulation to happen in my presence, so had made no plans for what to do.
I stood there helpless as Susan’s fist stroked up and down on his cock.
While she finished, I resolved to make sure that I would
be ready for Peter’s next move, which I could now easily anticipate.
Peter would, as he had in the previous weeks, fuck Susan and expect Martha
to participate somehow. I would be there for that, I thought, as we
all went out to the pool.
We took a quick swim and then lay down in the warm August
sun. From time to time, Peter would fondle or embrace Susan.
Somehow, despite my planning, whenever Peter did that, Martha would be on
the other side of them from me, so I couldn’t embrace her to reaffirm that
she was my wife. It was evident to me that these exhibitionist acts
were having their effect on Martha. Although she did her best to conceal
it, I knew her well enough to notice that she was moderately excited by them.
Still, Peter hadn’t done anything really outrageous, just some petting that
had better have been done in private, I thought, and his omnipresent erection.
I didn’t know if he’d actually start fucking Susan in front of us, but I’d
want to be next to Martha if he did, so I started paying closer attention
to all our positions.
“Susan and I are so proud of Martha,” Peter said.
“ We talked about this just now and we’ve decided that we’d like to give
her a little gift in celebration. We’d like to buy her a suitable dress
for her recital. Susan would like to go shopping with Martha later
this week to pick one out.” Martha, of course, protested that she couldn’t
accept that, that they had done so much for her already, that today Peter
had further volunteered to cover the extra expenses of the recital, and so
on. But Peter, with Susan’s backing, insisted on it.
“Really, we look on you as our discovery, our protegee,
and it gives us great pleasure to help you. Seeing you progress so
marvelously is more than enough pay back for the little that we’ve been able
to do. We really want to do something special for your special occasion
and this seems the best way we can express our joy in your success.”
There was no way to refuse, so Martha thanked them and she and Susan agreed
on a day to go shopping. Martha’s resistance had undoubtedly been weakened
by her thoughts of Susan’s exquisitely tailored clothing and the mental images
that evoked of what they might get for her to wear at the recital.
Eventually, Susan asked me to help her set up the lunch
at a table in the shade. Martha was sunning on a mattress on the far
side of the pool and Peter was standing close to Susan. He obviously
couldn’t start fucking Susan if she was with me, so I felt safe going with
her into the kitchen to gather up the table cloth, napkins, plates, and silverware.
As I came back out, I saw that Peter was now sitting on the mattress with
Martha, talking quietly with her. It was unclear what he was doing
because his back was to me and blocked my view of what, if anything, might
be going on. Concerned, I wanted to move closer for a better view,
but without being too obvious in case it was all very innocent. I was
very conscious of my promise to Martha not to “mess things up,” so didn’t
want to make a scene if they were just sitting there talking, but I was conscious
of the slight flush that was developing on Martha’s face. Susan helped
me by asking me to bring out the ice bucket with the champaign. I hurried
to do that, thinking that I when I brought it out I’d have a perfectly good
excuse to get closer to them on the far side of the pool, as that was where
the champaign needed to go.
It took longer than I had expected. Susan wanted
me to pour off the melted ice and add some fresh ice to the bucket and in
my haste to do so I managed to spill ice cubes all over the floor, which
I then had to clean up. When I finally managed to return to the pool
area, there was no longer any ambiguity about Peter’s actions. His
mouth was at her breast, capturing her nipple, while his hand was fondling
her pussy. This, of course, was beyond exhibitionism and voyeurism,
and I wasn’t about to tolerate it. I put the ice bucket down and hurried
towards them, intent on stopping this at whatever the cost. I was only
about three steps from them when Martha looked at me.
Her “don’t spoil it” look brought me to a screeching halt.
Suddenly, I was in a quandary. On the one hand, here was Peter
playing with my wife’s tits and cunt in front of my eyes. On the other,
there were the lessons, the piano, the recital, the dress, the career.
I stood there frozen, unable to move, until Susan placed a chair next to
me, facing Martha and Peter, and gently guided me to it. Weakly, I
sank into it.
I sat there paralyzed and watched as Peter slid his finger
in and out of my wife’s cunt. Susan lightly rested two fingers on my
shoulder, as if symbolically to restrain me in my chair, and I could do nothing
but stare. I could see that Martha was responding as she always did
when finger-fucked, pushing up her pelvis as if to capture more of Peter’s
finger, her hand resting on his head, holding it to her breast.
Susan, her fingers still barely touching my shoulder,
said in a voice just audible yet unmistakably clear, “Martha is giving us
so much pleasure.”
And then I knew...
It was finally obvious to me as I watched... Peter
positioned himself between my wife’s legs and brought his mouth to her cunt.
The realization hit me as clearly as if it had been printed
in bold letters on a billboard in front of me.... Now it was his large,
stiff cock pressing against her labia.
I knew as well as I had ever known anything in my life...
His prick slid into her and began to hump in and out.
I knew clearly... they had bought us. They owned
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