OPEN MARRIAGE CHRONICLES: "DATING, OPEN-MARRIAGE STYLE
By Ellen


     After a year of our lifestyle, I'm still not sure whether "open 
marriage" is the right term. When Bill first encouraged me to date 
others, I found the idea appalling, but now I love this arrangement. 
Bill hasn't shown any interest in involvemen

t with another woman, so 
this has been a one-sided affair. What Bill gets out of these dates 
are the thrills of my telling about my extramarital experiences. I 
agreed to whatever adventures Bill might dream up as long as these 
were no threat to ou

r marriage. 



     So one night we drove in separate cars to a local live-
entertainment club. I was wearing a red satiny oriental dress, baring 
my back to just below the waist and slit to the thigh. I found a table 
in a dimly lit corner. The place was decorated w

ith nostalgia gimmicks 
no one would want in their home but somehow looked just right in the 
lounge. I gazed around the crowd and listened to the three-piece 
band's soft music. 



     Minutes later, Bill walked in, sat at the bar and ordered a wine 
cooler. He acknowledged me with a smile, then turned away. He glanced 
back now and then as several men eyed me, clearly with sexual 
intentions.



     When I wear heels, some men under 6 feet avoid making passes at 
me because of my 5'8" height. This was the problem this night until a 
tall attractive man, his hair black as my own, noticed Bill glancing 
toward me from the bar. Attired in a dark

 blue blazer, white polo 
shirt, and white tropical slacks, he turned as I smiled quietly at 
Bill, not the stranger. But the man lifted his drink, sauntered over 
to my table, and grinned, "With anyone?"



     I responded, "I am now, I suppose," smiling as I appraised his 
blue eyes and lean physique. I aged him at 28. He was wearing a white 
gold wedding ring like mine, but I pretended not to notice, and so did 
he.



     He squinted at me through the dimness and, with a look of 
surprise, remarked, "I haven't seen anyone with gray eyes in years!"



     I smiled, "An inherited trait." I hear that a lot. There aren't 
many of us. When gray-eyed people see each other, they silently smile 
in acknowledgement, just as I've been told a young person with 
prematurely gray hair returns a smile to anothe

r. 



     He gave me his name, Phil, but his occupation gave me a start. He 
was a new attorney with the law firm that set up Bill's corporation 
and was now advising Bill's office manager, Steve, who runs the 
business side of Bill's engineering practice. 

We engaged in small 
talk, complimenting the other until he finally asked me to dance. 



     On the dance floor, he held me closely. Men from around the room 
looked disappointed that they hadn't asked me first. The touch of his 
cheek brushing mine, as Bill watched, excited me. By the middle of the  o73
 
second song, he was gently p

ressing his groin against mine. I was 
fighting to control my gasps as I felt his firmness growing beneath 
his slacks. My face burned at his openly sexual gesture, but soon in 
excitation, I was brushing my mound against his hardness. I could feel 
m

y nipples tingling against the satin of my dress. He whispered, "Do 
you have plans tonight?"



     "Don't you have to go home?" I queried, my voice trembling as I 
remembered his wedding ring.



     "My wife's a pharmaceutical sales rep," he said softly. "She's in 
Chicago until Tuesday at her company's headquarters gathering." He'd 
remembered my own ring and had no reason to lie.



     I allowed him to press me closer. His skin radiated a heat like 
my own. The female singer's long, slow melody of adulterous longing 
seemed dedicated to our intertwined bodies. When it ended, I realized 
Bill and I hadn't planned this very well. 

I lied, "My husband's at a 
convention. I have no plans, Phil." We bantered about a bit as I tried 
to think of what to do until finally he came right out with it, "Can 
we spend the night at your place?"  His swollen cock was now massaging 
my clitor

is.

     

     I was breathing heavily, my eyes wild. My throat throbbed 
fearfully, choked with increasing desire, as I breathed, "I'd like to 
visit the ladies' room." 



     He nodded, saying, "I'll meet you  back here in a couple of 
minutes." 



     When he walked through the crowd to the cashier's desk in another 
room, I strode quickly to Bill, explaining the situation. As usual, 
Bill was wonderful. He grinned, "Great. I'll drive over to the office 
and sleep on the couch. If I come home a

bout five a.m., will that be 
enough time?" I agreed, and Bill returned to his drink as I waited at 
the door for Phil.



     We drove in separate cars. The late evening streets were still 
wet from a brief Florida thundershower. The Mercedes' diesel engine 
throbbed like my chest. Although I'd slept with other men, this would 
be my first true "date." The multi-colored 

lights of neon signs, 
street lamps, and a line of cars streaming west to the suburbs cast 
long brilliant reflections on the wet highway. I glanced back now and 
then at Phil's red Fiero following closely. 



     Stopping at a traffic light a block from the lounge, I stared at 
a Cadillac's bumper sticker ahead of me and smiled. The bumper sticker 
read, "Lead Me Not Into Lust, For I Shall Find It Myself."



     We emerged from separate cars into our garage. He murmured, "My 
god, I just noticed the name on the mailbox! I know your husband, by 
name anyway!"



     I laughed. "I told you my name at the lounge. You didn't ask for 
my husband's. Don't be so up-tight, Phil!" Actually, I was more tense  o73
 
than Phil, not from his association with the law firm but from the 
desire that had grown with each 

mile I drove home. Inside, Phil 
removed his coat, poured a drink from our bar and searched out a diet 
soda from the refrigerator for me. He walked upstairs to meet me in 
the bedroom.

 

     I'd turned on the stereo and flicked on a table lamp, bathing the 
room in a dim red glow that seemed to accentuate my inner heat. I 
turned, my hands on my hips and legs spread wide on the carpet as I 
faced him. He stared, his manhood bulging be

neath his slacks, and 
breathed, "God, you're incredible!" 



     My breasts heaved as he set the drinks on the nightstand and took 
me in his arms. He unzipped my dress, puddling it onto the floor, then 
unbuttoned his shirt. I trembled, barely able to stand as he grinded 
his hardness against my clitoris. I fe

ll to my knees and pulled away 
his slacks, his nine-inch instrument bobbing against my lips as his 
fingers stroked my neck. I moaned at his sensuous touch. I was 
mesmerized by the dark, purple-veined cock that I was now stroking, my 
hand squeezing

 it back and forth from its black mass of pubic hair to 
the broad, bulging head. I ovaled my lips over the rubbery head, 
sucking it slowly as he groaned, "Oh god, Ellen, you're terrific, oh 
god, oh god..." My tongue slid along his length as his hips

 writhed, 
pushing it beyond the back of my throat. The smoothness glided through 
me until I was delirious with passion. I became one with his cock and 
the throaty music drifting from the stereo. I flamed with desire, my 
eyes wildly rolling up at h

im as I whimpered with each stroke into the 
fullness of my quivering lips. 



     He leaned to cup my breasts, then kneeled behind me as his strong 
hands kneaded the softness of my breasts. 



     I fell against his hands until my arms braced against the floor. 
I shuddered as his warm cock brushed my flaming vagina from the rear. 
I muttered, my voice quaking, "I'm on fire, Phil. I'm yours!" My hips 
gyrated, tremoring as his lengthy hardn

ess entered my lubricated 
channel. My vaginal walls stretched with each thrilling inch to 
accommodate him. And then he had sheathed the tool to its hilt as my 
mouth opened widely, my eyes rolling with the adulterous passion that 
gripped my searing

 soul. His long shaft radiated, steaming in the hot 
coals of my cunt.



     Wailing as he fucked me wildly, I swirled my hips to his rhythm. 
I turned my head to watch as his hips bumped against my buttocks, 
further inflaming my passion. Each entry throbbed against my clitoris 
until, deep within, I could feel the thunde

rous waters of an orgasmic 
flood rushing up to burst through me. I began to cry, tears streaking 
down my cheeks. His blue eyes glinted. He was biting his lip in 
excitation when I felt his cock swelling. He was about to come with 
me. He groaned pas

sionately. Our eyes locked. As his cock expanded 
within me I spread my legs further as if I could somehow allow my 
vagina to hold even more. I was biting the softness of my lower lip as 
I cried, "It's super, Phil! Super! I LOVE it!" I reached behind

 to 
touch his chest as his cock fucked into my hot, wet depths, which were 
now a vortex of mega-lust that gripped the broad cock-head sliding  o73
 
through my love tunnel. 

     

     He increased his tempo. The building orgasm was still distant but 
now rushing up like a mad prehistoric beast screaming for air from 
primeval depths of a misty cavern. The earth opened before me. I was 
falling through a bottomless chasm of adul

terous pleasure with his 
every thrust, my mind enveloping an unknown universe inhabited by only 
me and Phil. I shuddered. The beast within was insane with pleasure. 
My whoring had now spanned eons, all sense of time lost as I cried out 
frightfully

. I was praying for the oncoming super-orgasm but fearing I 
could no longer bear the passionate explosion.



     And then, OH GOD!  It rolled over us like a landslide!  My mind 
and body exploded with staggering force! Gigantic stars crashed as I 
screamed in ecstasy, feeling his warm sperm splattering through my 
channel. The planet was quaking beneath me a

s I sobbed in release from 
the bondage of this adulterous love. Crying, I collapsed, tremoring 
beneath the white heat of his body.



     Later, in the afterglow, we drank wine, watching erotic movies on 
our large-screen VCR from our bed until, finally, he mounted me again, 
missionary position, fucking me slowly. I screamed with a second, then 
third, then fourth orgasm, until he 

came, shuddering atop me. Dazed, I 
muttered, "I love you," and meaning it at that moment of gratitude. 
When he replied, "That's nice," because Phil couldn't lie, I laughed 
and hit him softly with my fist.



     He left at three a.m. I dialed Bill's office. When Bill was in 
bed beside me a half hour later, I described Phil's fucking me just as 
I'm telling you here, until Bill's manhood had risen and was eagerly 
entering my vagina. At times like these, 

I almost feel a control over 
him. I moaned, muttering my feelings of passionately fucking Phil as 
Bill thrust into me. I could feel his tool expand to awesome 
proportions, until finally, reliving my adultery, I came again. Bill 
groaned, his sperm 

splattering warmly into my vagina. We lay side by 
side facing each other as I answered his questions about my feelings 
when fucking other men. I admitted, "You lead me into these 
situations, but once I'm united with another, I can think only of him 


and me. Sometimes I forget I'm married." When his eyebrows arched, I 
smiled, "But I still love you." 



     Exhausted, I fell asleep. When I awoke with the sunrise, Bill was 
still looking down at me, grinning in approval.  




	&& 
THE END

 asleep. When I awoke with the sunrise, Bill was 
still looking down at me, grinning in approval.  




	&& 
THE END