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As I wrote in a previous narrative, two of my wife’s straight-laced friends were visiting one evening and the conversation took some twists and turns and it all turned into a blow-job lesson, where I taught the friends some of the skills involved and they practiced on me, with my wife’s blessing. It was fun and not awkward and after that evening, one or the other of Marlene’s friends would drop by, as usual, and they’d sit around chatting and sometimes I’d join them, like we’d done for years. There was some joking around about the blow-job thing but though our friendships were changed forever we let it settle into the background. A few weeks after that particular incident one of the women, Lorianne, came over with an extra sparkle in her eye. Lorianne was the slender one with the acne scars, the relatively innocent one. She was not a head-turner but once you got to know her you realized she was quick and clever and her sexual waters ran deep, even if she did seem impossibly naive about some things. The naiveté came only from her vast inexperience and lack of confidence, and not from lack of interest.
I said hi and left the ladies to yickyack while I went out to the garage. I was trying to put new pickups on an old strat, and was making good progress an hour later when the ladies called me into the kitchen. Marlene, my wife, said, “Jacob, you ought to hear this. It seems you are a good teacher.”
The wine bottle was half-empty, and there was a certain blush on the ladies’ cheeks. “Tell him,” Marlene said.
“Okay,” Lorianne said. “I, uh, I got a chance to try out some of the things you taught me.” You could see that, even with a rosé booster, this was a little difficult for her.
“Oh, really?” I said. “What happened?”
“Well there isn’t much to tell. I went to a dance lesson at a new place, I didn’t know anybody there but I had decided to learn the Lindy and that’s what you have to do, you have to go out and try it. So I was dancing with this guy and I don’t know, he was cute and I was in a mood. Well of course all I can think about these days is our lesson, I just keep going over it in my mind, wanting to practice and, you know, get good at it. And this guy was cute like I say, looked good in jeans, and sheesh I haven’t done anything impulsive since I was a teenager but he asked me if I’d like to go get a drink and I said okay, and we never did get a drink, we just went to his apartment. I didn’t even find out his name, and he didn’t ask mine. And so, uh, I did get to practice a little bit.”
“A little bit?”
“Yeah actually I wasn’t there very long. We just got inside the door and I guess you’d say I jumped his bones.”
“Poor guy,” I said. I heard Marlene chuckle too. “Did he enjoy it?”
“I guess so. The next day I checked the newspaper and they did not report finding any dead bodies in that building, so I guess he revived. I didn’t even say good bye.”
“That’s hilarious,” Marlene laughed. “Just knocked him out and left.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Lorianne said.
“Did he do anything for you?” I asked.
“Well you know it’s possible for a guy to go down on a girl, too.”
“Yes,” I said. “So I guess he didn’t do that.”
“I don’t know,” Lorianne said.
“You’d know if he did,” Marlene said.
“He didn’t fuck you or anything?” I asked.
“No, we didn’t go anything like that. I pretty much pushed him back on the kitchen table and did what you showed me.”
“The kitchen table?”
“Yes, it was just inside the front door. I didn’t waste any time. It was a small apartment, you know. A studio, I guess. Boom, pushed him back on the table, boom pants down, boom on my knees, boom he shoots a huge load of stuff, boom I’m gone.”
“I get the picture,” I said. I felt very proud, of course.
“It didn’t take too long,” Lorianne said, “Just a few minutes, I guess. I loved everything about it. His thing was a lot bigger than yours, if it’s okay to say that. But not too big.”
Somehow that detail only made the story better. “I’m proud of you,” I said. “Good job.”
“At the end, it was like you said. I deep-throated him like you taught me and I thought maybe his eyeballs would pop out. It took about half a minute of that and he squirted everything he had right down my throat. It was a lot of stuff but I loved it.” She looked guiltily at Marlene and at me. “I feel like a kind of addict or something now. I want more.”
“You want more what?” I asked, mainly for the voyeuristic joy of hearing her say it.
“Jizz,” she said. “Isn’t that what they call it?” She gave a mischievous grin. “You didn’t think you’d hear me say that, did you? Jizz. I have discovered I love jizz. I want more of it.”
“That’s one name for it.” I had a hard-on, of course, listening to this. “And then you just left?”
“Yeah, he was out like a light. Honestly, he actually might have been dead. Which wouldn’t have bothered me any. Even though he was a pretty nice guy. And cute.”
Marlene Ankara Ucuz Rus Escort asked, “Are you going to see him again?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Lorianne said. “The dance lessons weren’t that good, except for him, and I don’t really want a boyfriend or anything. I just wanted to see how it would be.” She looked back and forth at us again. “I mean really, I just wanted to suck somebody’s dick and see what would happen.”
“You’ve created a monster,” Marlene said to me, and we all laughed merrily but at the same time I knew my wife well enough to know she was picturing herself in Lorianne’s story. doing something similar. Of course it would be hard for her to tell me if she did something like that. And, realistically, Marlene was too married to blow a stranger in real life, just for the fun of it. But not too married to think about it. Actually, I realized I didn’t know. I kind of liked thinking it was possible, though the thought was also a little frightening.
“Did you feel like you knew what you were doing?” I asked, pedagogically.
“Well I was surprised how different his thing was,” Lorianne said. “But I guess they all work the same way, right?”
“I imagine different guys like different things but yeah, basically we’re all the same.”
Marlene choked a little and said, “Believe me, they’re all different.” Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed. “But you’ll figure that out.” A few minutes later I went back to my project and left the girls chatting in the living room.
Roxy, the plump, extroverted Italian with the amazing tits, had come over several times, too, but she did not have any tales to tell. Roxy never brought the subject up with me, but Marlene told me that Roxy talked with her about our blow-job party a couple of times, and she wanted to follow through but she just didn’t know how to get something started with someone. She had been out of the dating game so long she didn’t know anybody, and didn’t know where to meet somebody, and she was definitely not looking for a boyfriend or steady relationship. But she admitted to Marlene that since that night she had been experiencing a lot of sexual feelings (“I’m horny all the time” was her wording), and her fantasies had gotten a little unrealistic. I was not included in any of this girl-talk, and don’t know how detailed she got with Marlene. Some things are none of my business, y’know?
The next time Roxy came over I was in the garage tuning up the refurbished strat. My bass-player friend was coming over and we were going to try jamming and see how the new rig worked. I had put new strings on the guitar and had just set it on its stand when the ladies invited me in from the garage. “Honey,” Marlene said, “Roxy is having a little bit of a problem and we need some advice. Roxy, you can explain it.”
Roxy said, “I guess I can talk to you, you feel like a brother now, or at least a special kind of friend. But here’s the thing. You taught me something incredible and exciting, and now I am kind of thinking about sex twenty-four hours a day, especially that kind of sex, and I don’t have anybody to do anything with. Every man I see, I think about throwing him down and sucking his dick, and of course that just makes me a worthless wreck.”
“Have you tried it with someone?” I asked. “I don’t think you’ll have trouble finding a taker.”
“No, of course not. And I don’t want to pick up some random guy. I mean, I could, but it doesn’t seem safe or smart. There isn’t anybody I know who would understand. But it would be nice to meet somebody, just for funsies.”
“Yeah, I see.”
Marlene looked at me and said, “We were thinking maybe you know somebody.”
“You mean I might know somebody who would let Roxy suck his cock? Uh, yes, I know somebody like that. In fact, everybody I know would love that. Are you kidding me?”
“Well?” Marlene said.
“Okay, how about Jerry, he’s single, about the right age, he’s a good guy, good looking.” I could see the ladies looking at me skeptically. Marlene knows Jerry, I couldn’t see what was wrong with him. Normal guy.
“I don’t want a boyfriend,” Roxy said. “Honestly, let me just say” — she stopped and drained the last of her wine in one sip — “I actually honestly really would just like to suck somebody’s dick till they cum. Then swallow it. Finish him off, you know? I don’t really care who it is. I just want to do this. I learned how, but I have not actually done it yet, on my own.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well.”
“Yes,” Marlene added, “I see. Well, huh.” You don’t see Marlene at a loss for words very often.
“Don’t you want to cum yourself?” I asked her. “Like maybe a reciprocal deal?”
“I’m fine,” Roxy said. “I just imagine it would be fun to blow somebody’s socks off. It wouldn’t really be about me. I mean, yes it would all be about me, but I can pop one off whenever I want. I’m pretty good at it. This Yenimahalle Rus Escort is different.”
Marlene asked, “So not Jerry, it sounds like.”
Roxy said, “This is terrible, and I shouldn’t have had this wine but, hey can you fill my glass please? Thanks. I was actually thinking it might be best to find a married guy.”
“Why?” Marlene and I asked at the same time.
“No problems,” Roxy said. “When we’re done he goes home. He doesn’t talk about his problems, he doesn’t send me flowers, he doesn’t call me at work. We figure out a time, we get together, maybe an hour, maybe it won’t take that long, I blow him and then he goes home again. Nice and neat.”
“Some people think that married people should not do that sort of thing,” I volunteered.
“Oh yeah, sure,” Roxy said, looking at me with one raised eyebrow.
We sat silently around the kitchen table. She had a point and it sounded like a good idea, a married guy. But who?
Dave came over and I introduced him to Roxy — of course he’d known Marlene for years, hanging out with me — and we went to the garage. We have some tunes worked out. Someday we might have a band, when we’re ready. We know some ZZ Top and Stones, REM and Tom Petty, stuff like that. Dave even sings. He says he knows a guy who plays drums but we haven’t heard him yet. Anyway we’re not quite ready for that. A few more songs, we have to smooth off some rough edges first.
I showed Dave the strat and played it through the amp a little bit for him. We goofed around with the tone and adjusted the pickups and Dave got his bass out of the gig-bag.
“So who is this again?” he asked me. “Roxy, did you say?”
“Yeah, Roxy. Friend of my wife’s. They sit and drink wine and I don’t know what, solving the world’s problems in there.”
“Huh,” Dave said. “Interesting.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Interesting. But not for you and me.”
“Oh yeah, of course,” Dave said. “But it doesn’t hurt anything to look.”
We played some blues, Dead Flowers, and tried Turn the Page, which we’ve been working on but it never sounds right. Dave sang and the strat sounded pretty good. Suddenly the door opened and Marlene stuck her head out. She had the bottle in her hand and we could see Roxy in the kitchen behind her. “Can we come out and listen?”
Dave responded instantly. “Oh yeah, great, great, come on out.” He set down his bass and pulled two folding chairs out from under my workbench.
“Do you want some wine?” Marlene asked.
“Sure,” I said. Dave said, “That sounds great.” Dave is more of a beer drinker, but he has wine at our house just to be friendly. Marlene likes rosé and brings a glass out to us sometimes when we are rehearsing, and it has become a kind of tradition.
Marlene turned back to the indoors and hollered, “Roxy, can you grab two more glasses?”
Roxy appeared in the doorway with her full glass in one hand and two fresh ones in the other. And I don’t know what she’d done but, I mean, I know she had popped open a few buttons on her blouse. There was simply no way to look in her direction without staring at her breasts — she was still decent, acceptable for being in public, she was not out-of-line but oh my god, that was “more than a mouthful” of jiggling, delicious flesh. Her face looked different too. As she stood in the doorway she was simply spectacular. Her lips were red, her eyes had a smoldering glow. She smiled sweetly and said, “Glasses. You boys having some, I take it?”
“Yes ma’am,” Dave said. Dave was pretty much a regular guy. He wore t-shirts most of the time, jeans, work boots. He had a little bit of a beard. He worked in an auto-parts place, in the office, not at the counter, I didn’t know what he did exactly but it paid the bills. We’d been friends forever, it seemed like, and had been playing music for a couple of years. I don’t remember what got it started, neither one of us could actually play very well but we started jamming and it was fun now and then, and we were getting better. He was congenial and pleasant to be around, no trouble, no big opinions he needed to dump on anybody.
Marlene walked the wine over and filled our glasses and said, “So what are you going to play for us?”
I’ll tell you a secret about playing music. If you ask any musician why they decided to learn an instrument, anybody at all, you will get the same answer: girls. We play music to impress the girls. Of course, if it’s just me and Dave in the garage there are usually no girls to impress. Marlene stops in occasionally but, come on, I’m married to her, which kind of spoils the effect for me and Dave, both. Behind the practicing there is always the dream of playing for a crowd, and girls.
Marlene and Roxy might have spent a little time in front of the bathroom mirror together. Marlene’s lips were redder than usual, too, and there was something different about her eyes. Also, I did not remember quite this much cleavage showing earlier. Marlene had a great body but she played her role as a modest married woman quite well. I was surprised by her little display, a tantalizing hint of smooth, firm female flesh.
“What do you like?” Dave asked.
“Oh I like lots of things,” Roxy said. She paused and let that hang in the air for a minute.
“We liked what you-all were doing,” Marlene said. “Just keep going.”
“Yeah, don’t mind us,” Roxy said. “Just act like we’re not here.” It was the most absurd thing she could have said, but she put it out there and let us dwell on it.
I said, “How about Won’t Back Down?”
“Cool,” Dave said, and we snapped back into the real world of music. The ladies sat on the folding chairs and watched us, sometimes talking between themselves.
When Dave’s glass was half empty, after the second song, Roxy brought the bottle over to fill his glass. She bent over slightly as she concentrated on pouring; she knew exactly what she was doing to that poor man. She straightened up and looked at me: “How about you?”
“I could use a drop,” I said. She managed to pour mine without bending over. Maybe I was holding my glass higher than Dave had.
We played a few more. It’s not as easy as it looks, and we were absorbed in the music when I looked up and saw the ladies dancing in the middle of the garage. Dave missed a note, too, as he noticed.
Marlene is the full package, the real deal. She is true blue and also full of surprises, even after all this time. She hasn’t told me much, but I know she had had a fair amount of experience before she met me and had learned a lot about being a sexual woman; she wasn’t compulsively sexual but she knew how to blend into the woodwork and she knew how to stand out, like she was now. She was dancing in one place, swaying a little, sometimes throwing her arms up, usually in response to something Roxy did. My wife’s moving body was a magnet to my eyes.
Roxy’s dancing was even more subdued, like she was barely moving. Her arms floated up sometimes, and the flesh of her breasts shivered and rolled with the beat. Her hips moved slightly, nothing excessive or overtly sexual, sometimes her ass twitched front and back, sometimes side to side. She had a little samba or bossa-nova move where she swayed from the waist down, her lower body taking on a sensual life of its own, very subtle. She closed her eyes sometimes, especially those times when she let her hands fly up above her head and she appeared to be lost in the music.
After a while we took a break and set our instruments down, Dave got two more chairs and we sat down in a kind of circle. My glass was nearly empty so my wife brought the bottle and filled it, and then sat on my lap with her arm around my neck and gave me a big sexy kiss. Dave was doing everything he could to look somewhere else, and Marlene kept it up. She pulled away and in a tone he could surely hear said, “You guys look so sexy up there when you’re playing.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, though I hoped she was telling the truth. I think we are two of the most ordinary guys in the world, though we may have felt a little like rock stars at the moment.
“Oh yeah, no kidding,” Roxy said, and she took the bottle from Marlene and sat down on Dave’s lap, snaking her arm around his shoulders and leaning into him a little. “Your glass is getting a little low there,” she said to him, looking directly into his eyes, and she filled it.
Dave looked a bit panicked. His eyes went from me to Marlene and back to me, then back to Marlene, and finally to Roxy. “Uh, you know I’m married, right?”
“No,” Roxy said. “I didn’t know if you were or not. But I think that’s perfect.”
Dave was flustered. “Well I shouldn’t be, uh, you shouldn’t, uh, I guess this is innocent enough.”
Roxy’s face was inches from his. I always suspected she could be a professional-grade tease but I had never seen her work her black magic before. “Right,” she said, “We’re not doing anything wrong, are we?” She leaned in tighter, pressing those incredible erotic breasts against Dave’s chest, and looked up at his face.
“No, this is okay, I think,” he said.
“Well if you don’t want me to sit on your lap,” Roxy said with an evil pout.
“No, no, I love it,” Dave said. “But, I don’t know, it’s been a long time, I guess I don’t know what’s all right any more.”
Roxy’s hand dropped to his thigh and I didn’t see any more because Marlene turned my head with her hand and rammed her tongue down my throat.
She stopped when Roxy called to her, “Marlene? I never was a groupie. Do you know what it is they do?”
Marlene played dumb. “Well, they make plaster casts.”
Roxy: “What’s that?”
Marlene: “Never mind, we don’t have any plaster anyway.”
Roxy: “I remember reading about bands and groupies, it always sounded kind of fun but now it’s been so long I don’t even remember what they do.”
Poor Dave was helpless, sitting there with the voluptuous Roxy on his lap. You might say that I should have put a stop to this, but why? Dave could get up and leave at any time, and he definitely was not doing that. Marlene could put a stop to it, but she seemed to be enjoying this more than anybody. And Roxy of course was having the time of her life, she had my buddy eating out of the palm of her hand.
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