This is an attempt to describe how the tragic death of my brother led in time to the transformation of my sex life. Written down now, that looks cold and callous. In fact, it was anything but; it has been a journey of discovery that has enriched those of us involved and who have reached the point at which we are comfortable with ourselves and each other and with what we do together. To explain how it came about, I need to fill in some background.
Miles and I have been together for more than twenty years, married happily for most of it. We live in a prosperous part of the stockbroker belt where we have enjoyed an increasingly comfortable existence since Miles inherited the family estate agency business. Our sex life could have been described as enthusiastic: what we got up to in the bedroom would probably have surprised many of Miles’ associates in the Rotary Club or, indeed, mine in the offices of the small Charity over which I preside. There were not many taboos. But no matter how you try to keep things fresh, nor how aware you are of the right buttons to press to make things happen, a certain familiarity is unavoidable. We talked about this from time to time without seeing a solution until, just over a year ago, our daughter left home to go to university.
At once, that meant that sex was no longer confined to the bedroom: Miles could return from the office in the mood, find me in the kitchen, put his hand up my skirt and in no time my knickers would be off and his head would be between my legs as the prelude to a session that might end on the bed and might not. There was also the advantage that we could surf the internet for material that turns us on without the possibility of Claire walking in at an embarrassing moment. Welcome as all that was, it took us so far but no farther.
One of the ideas we talked about was meeting others with a similar outlook. The websites were easy to find but we were not sure we could regard ourselves as potential “swingers.” Nevertheless, we agreed that the idea had some attraction for us both. We noted particularly that a great majority of the women described themselves either as bisexual or bi-curious, and that interested us. Having had some limited experience with another woman at college, I told Miles I would certainly be keen to try again – with the right person in the right circumstances (some of the pictures of two women turned me on). Miles, who admits to being something of a voyeur, had no problem with the idea, but he asked how I would feel if he wanted to get involved, maybe as a threesome or perhaps taking the other woman while I watched. At first I was unsure, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it to happen.
We seemed to have crossed a boundary sexually, but only in theory. Did we want to follow through? Tentatively, yes. In practice, though, we could see difficulties. There was no lack of offers but not many ads gave real information about the status of the advertisers. Without being snobbish, we did hope to meet someone like us. And there was the very real need to protect our privacy and our reputations in our own community. For every step forward we seemed to take two steps back. We wondered if we just weren’t brave enough, or maybe not the right type.
Yet we never entirely gave up hope and a lot of our internet time was spent on the x-rated sites – which invariably served to start us off, maybe Miles opening my blouse to tweak my nipples or me reaching for a zip that was struggling to contain what is, I am happy to say, a responsive and virile penis; and that would lead to oral (which we both enjoy both ways) and a return to some of our favourite positions (me kneeling with Miles penetrating me from behind, me on top, Miles entering me from underneath and so on). To finish, Miles likes to spray his cum on my face or on my breasts and then wipe it off with my knickers, which I am very happy with as long as he has given me plenty of orgasms first. Sometimes, if Miles has given me a specially thorough work-out and I am on such a high that any inhibitions are forgotten, we finish off with a sixty-nine, my sign to let Miles know that when he is ready to come I will swallow all he can give me, which often seems to be a lot.
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Then came the night when we heard the dreadful news of John, my brother. Awful though it seems now, Miles and I were riding the crest of a sexual wave when the phone rang. Miles groaned with frustration but withdrew to pick up the bedside handset. It was a terribly distressed, virtually inarticulate Dee, almost unable to explain that John was dead, run down (by a drunk driver it later transpired) while out jogging.
The following days were a nightmare. Dee – really Diane but known as Dee since she was a child – not only had no brothers or sisters, her widower father was elderly and reclusive. Miles and I were her only viable relatives, and we were more than two hundred miles away. I drove through the night to find Dee asleep, sedated by the doctor and cared for by a neighbour. Miles joined us the next day and took over dealing with the formalities. By the end of the week, with a kind of fraught normality established, Miles and I faced up to the inevitable: there was no way Dee could face staying in the house on her own, while Miles and I both had commitments at home, so we had no choice but to take Dee with us.
Once the funeral was behind us, the three of us sat down to consider a way forward. Dee had to be reassured that she was not imposing herself upon us; our house is large and the en suite guest bedroom was hers for as long as she wanted to stay. Eventually, she was persuaded to agree that Miles should sell her house for her as soon as probate was through, which would enable her to set up elsewhere. Fortunately, she recognised that for her own sake she needed to find a job that would engage her mind and her energy, but that was straightforward for an attractive economics graduate who spoke three languages.
So we settled down to a new routine. Miles and I both like Dee and we were able to make allowance for her periodic bouts of depression, finding ways to distract her whenever we could. Miles took us to the theatre, I encouraged her to join me at our tennis club. But, after our period of happy liberation, we had to take sex back into the bedroom. Internet titillation was strictly limited. Dee had replaced Claire.
Then came a Saturday that changed everything. Miles was away at an estate agents conference, so I took Dee shopping and then to the tennis club. When Dee wanted some new lingerie I made the appropriate noises as she looked through conventional bra and knickers sets in white. Ten years ago, when I was her age, I had long been encouraged by Miles to ensure that, no matter how soberly dressed I might appear at work or at a dinner party, underneath I was always silky and racy. In the changing room at the club I was tempted to try a tactful comment as I watched Dee peeling off white panties, but it wasn’t the time or the place.
At home after dinner, while we finished a bottle of wine in front of the television, I was aware that Dee was struggling to make small talk.
“Unhappy?” I asked gently.
She nodded.
“Missing John?”
“It’s getting better but I have bad days when something reminds me of him.”
“That’s understandable. Do you want to talk about it?”
Dee shook her head. “It’s nothing specific.” Then, after a pause, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll understand. I miss the sex, miss it a lot. Is that awful? It seems like betraying John to want sex. But I do.”
“My dear, it would be very strange if you didn’t.”
We sat in silence for a while. When Dee didn’t seem to be inclined to say more, I asked, “No man on the horizon?”
“I’ve had offers – there are men at the office who aren’t very subtle, but they are mostly married and that’s not my scene. Once, when I was a bit down, I did go to a hotel with one of them at lunch time but – well, it wasn’t very good. And I can hardly bring someone here, can I? It’s not like we were students and I could ask you two to go out for the evening.” She bit her lip. I understood what she was saying and couldn’t really think how to reply. Then she said, “Jane, I can’t thank you and Miles enough for all you’ve done for me. Believe me, I don’t know how I would have coped without you. But the sex thing is a problem. Some nights in bed I think of you and Miles … you know? And the damned vibrator isn’t the same, is it? It doesn’t tell you it wants you, it doesn’t take your panties off, it doesn’t hold you, it doesn’t talk dirty in your ear when you’re getting close.”
I knew about the vibrator. One evening Miles had gone to bed early with a book while I had stayed downstairs watching a film. On my way upstairs, passing Dee’s room, I heard the quiet buzz and the sounds of deep breathing that told their own story. The following morning I felt ashamed that I had told Miles what I deduced because that set us fantasising about Dee masturbating and gave an extra frisson to a wild session that was over almost too quickly as Miles emptied himself into my vagina.
Perhaps it was a twinge of guilt that led me to lean across to kiss Dee’s cheek. But as I did so, she twisted towards me and put her mouth on mine and pulled me to her. I can see now that it was a crucial moment. This was my sister-in-law – or was she, now John was dead? I could have dealt with it tactfully, eased myself away, put a comforting arm round Dee and steered us back on to safe ground. But I didn’t because in that pulsating moment I didn’t want to. When Dee’s tongue probed my lips, I opened them to take her in, responding just as urgently. We were still locked together when I realised she was opening her blouse, pushing up her bra to expose herself, taking me by the wrists and pressing my hands on to her breasts. The demanding warmth of her was irresistible, her dark nipples like little nuts under my fingers. Pulling away briefly, she said: “Suck them, Jane. Please.”
For a few seconds I held her away from me. “There won’t be an easy way back, you know. You are very, very special for me – more than that – but are you sure this is what you want?”
“Do you mean I shouldn’t have? That you don’t want to?”
I shook my head, probably appearing much more in control than I actually was. A hand between my legs would surely have found the evidence. But something told me we both had to be absolutely sure. “On the contrary. But I need to be sure this isn’t just a down day that you’ll regret later – like the lunchtime at the hotel.”
“Jane. darling, this couldn’t be more different. Do you want me?”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice. In response, Dee stood and held my eyes while she swiftly removed her clothes. Then she lay back on the sofa, legs wide apart, an imploring invitation. My clothes joined hers on the floor and so began a passionate exploration of each other which remains an erotic blur in my memory. I recall Dee’s hoarse plea, “Don’t rush. Please make it last. You can do anything you want. And please – show me how to make it good for you, too.” There were tongues on nipples; fingers in vaginas; breasts rubbing against breasts; some spanking (Dee asked and I, to my surprise, was aroused doing it); once, Dee turned me on to my knees, inserted three fingers into my gaping tunnel and applied her tongue to my anus with electric effect; until eventually she plunged her face into my groin, nibbled at my labia, searched with her tongue for my clitoris and brought me to a throbbing orgasm. Thanks to the way Miles has developed my ability to climax time and again, that first sensational surge left me still on a plateau of arousal, so it was easy for me to reciprocate. When Dee came for the first time that evening it was with a long, loud cry of ecstasy and a huge contortion of her body, thrusting her vagina into my face.
There was more of the same until we were both sated. At some point Miles had rung to say he was on the way home, so Dee retired to her bedroom and I showered and dressed in readiness for my husband’s return.
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Understandably, there was a certain tension at breakfast the next morning. The door had scarcely closed behind Miles when he left for the golf course before Dee came to me, took me by the hands and said, “Jane, I’m so sorry. About last night, I mean. I shouldn’t have got carried away. Can you forgive me?”
“For heaven’s sake,” I said, “there’s nothing to forgive. What we did was wonderful for me, and I hope it was for you.”
“Of course, but – “
“But nothing. Look, come and sit down and listen to what I have to say.” We sat facing each other across the breakfast table, holding hands. “Please don’t be shocked by what I’m going to suggest, and don’t answer at once if you don’t want to. Now. Miles wasn’t surprised by what happened last night – “
Dee’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God! You didn’t tell him?”
“Miles and I have never had secrets from each other, especially not sexual secrets. There was no way I couldn’t have told him. Anyway, after you and I had finished, I wasn’t sure how fit I would be to react to any overtures from Miles. As it happened, once he had heard everything – he wanted all the details – he was so horny we went at it like a pair of dogs on heat. It was almost as incredible – different of course – as the experience you and I shared.”
“But what happens now? I shall have to move out – I won’t be able to face Miles.”
“I certainly hope you won’t do anything so unnecessary. What I want to ask you is this: would you like to share Miles? I think it’s a good idea and, of course, he does. I did ask him how he felt about having to satisfy two women with serious needs and all he said was – try me.”
We talked for most of the morning, and learned a great deal about each other. Clearly, Dee and John had led a sex life equally as fulfilling as our own. They, however, hadn’t ventured down the internet path that had been beckoning Miles and me. I kept nothing back, switched on the computer and showed her the sites we liked best – one or two of which we left a bit hastily when I sensed they had the same stimulating effect on Dee as they did on me. Sex would have to wait but I took it as a very good sign because I know there are many women who reject pornography on principle and I was slightly apprehensive that it might be a problem for Dee. Finally, I explained how we had wanted to involve someone else in our activities but hadn’t been able to do so. Now, suddenly, unexpectedly, the possibility was in front of us.
Dee said she would like to think it over but promised an answer soon.
After lunch we played a couple of sets of tennis with Dee on the kind of form I hadn’t seen from her all the while she had been with us. I won, as I usually did, but only narrowly. In the changing room, I took the chance to suggest that Miles wouldn’t object to her white panties – but there were other options. At home I took her to my lingerie drawer and asked her if she would like to try some on.
“Yes, please. I don’t want to be a turn-off for Miles.”
I almost missed the implication of that, but when I looked up from admiring her tight, rounded buttocks, I asked, “You mean – “
“Yes, I want to. But you’ll have to help me the first time. I mean, I’m the interloper, aren’t I?”
“No. You are here by invitation – thanks to our affection for you, not to mention a huge physical attraction. The simple fact is, Miles and I both want you – badly. I want you and I to enjoy everything we did last night – and more. And I want you to enjoy Miles the way I enjoy him, and perhaps show him some new tricks.”
For first time, Dee smiled. “Will he be shocked if I ask him to fuck me?”
“I think that might light the blue touch paper.”
“And put a rocket up my -?”
“Cunt,” I concluded, entering into the spirit. It was a word I had very seldom spoken – in fact, until that moment only when Miles had taken me to such a pitch of excitement that my inhibitions were shattered. Now, however, I was being taken into unknown territory – and I was responding in spite of myself. I smiled back. “But yes, almost certainly.”
“You will help me at first, won’t you?”
“Of course – but we may both need to help each other. Don’t forget, I’m a novice, too.”
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Clearly, the next time we were all three together could have been difficult but Miles handled it brilliantly. He came in from golf complaining he had played badly – and partnering the Captain, too. The problem, said Miles, was that he couldn’t concentrate; he had more exciting things on his mind. As soon as he had showered and changed, he said, he suggested dinner, a couple of bottles of wine and then … well. we’d see what could be worked out.
When the moment came, Miles took charge. “First things first – condoms?” He looked at Dee, who shook her head/. “Not necessary. I’ve stayed on the pill – just in case. And healthwise, I trust you two.”
“Nice for all of us. But now, Dee, sweetheart, if we’re going to make this work, I want to be able to satisfy both of you, and that means I’ll have to try to keep myself under control early on. Once I get that right, I hope all will be well. But if I take you first, I’m afraid the excitement may be too much for me. So I suggest I start with Jane, who knows how I respond and when to ease off. I’ll try to get Jane at least one orgasm, then I’ll take a rest while you and Jane show me what I missed last night, and after that I’ll do my best to give you everything you want. And maybe after we’ve all had a break for recuperation we’ll see if we can ring the changes.” He paused and looked from Dee to me. “I know all this sounds a bit clinical but I suspect it won’t be once we break the ice and get started, so best to be clear first. OK?”
Dee swallowed hard. “All right by me, Miles. But can I get Jane ready for you?”
It was obviously a good idea for Miles and I was happy enough to step out of my skirt and lie back with my legs spread. Dee slipped into position, removed my knickers in one easy movement and slid two fingers into my vagina. She looked up at Miles, who was already almost naked, his penis jutting proudly in front of him. “It wasn’t necessary.” she said. “Look.” She held up her fingers, glistening with my juices.
By this time I was so aroused, I couldn’t get out of the rest of my clothes quickly enough. Miles decided to take me on the floor, arranging a cushion under my head and another under my bottom to give him better access. He offered his cock to my mouth and I sucked it briefly but it was already firm and releasing a bead of moisture from the tip. Usually we would have taken our time over the foreplay, but – as Miles had guessed – we were both in a state of febrile anticipation, eager to have our turn with Dee. I guided Miles into me, allowed him to thrust a few times for the pleasure of both of us – nothing quite compares with that moment when a hard phallus opens your inner folds and steadily presses its way to the inner depths – but then I tightened my legs, holding him in position, letting him bask in the warm wetness while concentrating his mind on control. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows, “OK?”
“Yes, but slowly.”
It was a kind of delicious erotic torment, supremely enhanced by the sound of Dee’s heavy breathing as she watched us. The desire to drive on to orgasm was hard for me to resist but I knew it was crucial at this early stage not to over-excite Miles. We fucked in slow, long, gentle strokes for a while until Miles withdrew and said, “Kneel for me.”
I did so, making sure to widen my knees so that I would be open and the grip not too stimulating when Miles made his insertion. I found myself facing Dee who was in an armchair with her skirt up round her waist, her white panties round her knees. Her fingers were slowly working her clitoris, which I could see from my close proximity was prominent and gleaming with her inner moisture. The sight was not lost on Miles who suddenly began pounding into me, his hands on my hips, pulling me on to him. Fearful that he might get carried away but at the same time anxious not to leave myself on a frustrated high, I reached back beneath me with one hand, found the spot and hurried towards my fulfilment, calling out as I did so to Miles to take care himself. Somehow we managed it, with Miles at the end still inside me and still rigid, a masterpiece of restraint. From my point of view, I’d known better but I recognised that this was only the beginning; and the warm glow that had spread from between my legs at the crisis was good.
I said to Dee, “How was that for you?”
“Simply wonderful.”
“You didn’t feel left out?”
“I’d have liked you to be licking me when Miles got behind you – perhaps we can try something like that another time. But no, knowing what was coming, I didn’t feel left out at all. Only more eager for it to happen.”
“Of course. Come on to the sofa and let me sit beside you – only I think Miles should undress you first.”
“I heard about the white underwear,” he said, “and we’ll do something about that in future. But just to let you know that I won’t approve next time, I think there is something else you deserve before I turn you over to Jane.”
He took her by the hand, motioned her to stand and took her place on the chair. Still holding her hand, he pushed her gently across his lap, face down. Her panties were still round her knees when he lifted her skirt and contemplated the small rounded buttocks I had told him about. Dee took a deep breath and then very softly said, “Yes, please – but not too hard.”
Miles was as careful as I knew he would be, giving her six firm but not brutal slaps with his open palm, the last two just a little harder than the first.
“I can take more,” said Dee.
“That’s good then.” said Miles, “but not now. There will be other times. For now, if Jane has recovered, I want to watch – and get myself ready for you.”
I was certainly ready for more, having surprised myself by discovering how arousing I had found the little spanking episode, much as I had when I was doing it to Dee myself the previous evening. But now she joined me on the sofa, naked, legs apart, waiting. Later, when we were less feverish in the whole relationship, sessions when Dee and I were alone would involve a great deal of hugging, kissing and caressing before anything more fundamental; this, though, was basic, urgent, demanding, no need for preliminaries.
“Who goes first?” I asked.
“You,” cried Dee. “You do me. Please!”
Miles said later that this was when he began to realise that Dee’s nature was truly submissive: she needed to be used. Whether John had fulfilled that desire, or whether it only emerged with us, we’ve never learned. And at that point, it wasn’t really relevant. I parted her puffy labia with my fingers and let my tongue investigate. It was plain that she needed no lubrication from me – her fingers had done their job – so I concentrated on the clitoris. It didn’t take long. Soon she was clutching the back of my head with both hands and pushing up with her bottom, bucking against me as she came in a huge trembling paroxysm. Not pausing to recover – seeming rather to want to maintain herself on the plateau my tongue had taken her to, she swiftly manoeuvred us into sixty-nine with me underneath. I felt two fingers slide into me and begin a steady penetration (Miles told me later that Dee had lifted her head only a few inches so that she could observe the finger-fuck close up). I was only aware of her verbal demands that came in short phrases between loud panting sounds: “Lick me, Jane, get me off again. It’s been so long, and it’s so good. I want to keep coming. Lick me”
I realised that months of pent-up frustration were being released and did my best to co-operate, despite being distracted by the sensations she was creating in my overflowing vulva. Eventually she collapsed on top of me, gulping deep lungsful of air, her cunt spreading wetness on to the inside of her thighs, just above my face.
When Dee lifted from me, I saw that she was being helped by Miles who had one arm under hers while he continued to manipulate his cock with the other. She settled on the cushions Miles had arranged for me and waited. Miles knelt between her legs, fingered the open slit of her vagina, then plunged straight into her. And so I had a close view of my husband fucking another woman. Of course, I had wondered how I would cope, whether jealousy would creep in. I needn’t have been concerned. I was aware, I was able to tell myself at that moment, that this was one of the most erotic experiences of my life. I hadn’t given Miles away, I was lending him to Dee and I could tell from every intimate movement and every moan of joy that escaped her at every thrust by Miles exactly what she was feeling.
That was when all Miles’ preliminary choreography was forgotten. I knelt beside them to watch his cock emerge, the circumcised head distended and purple, and then drive back into her inner depths, his balls slapping against her bottom. He lifted her ankles on to his shoulders to give him a different sensation and to allow me a better view. Unable to resist, I touched the tight pink orifice of her bottom, titillating it with my finger tip, resting against the sphincter but not attempting entry (that came some weeks later). I changed positions to knead her heaving breasts, moulding the rigid nipples with my fingers. Dee’s eyes were closed, her mouth open, her mind, I knew, devouring the sensations in her groin as she moved to match the tempo Miles was setting. I had to be part of it somehow. I stood, then knelt astride Dee’s face. He eyes flickered open, her hands clasped my bottom and her tongue lapped fiercely at my cunt.
It was Miles who finally broke the magic circle of lust that had engulfed us all three. “Not long now. How do you want it?”
“Give it to Dee, darling,” I urged. “Inside her. Just let go.”
“No, please.” This was Dee. “I want to share it. Lie beside me Jane. Can you share it, Miles?”
Miles said nothing, motioning me to lie with my head next to Dee’s as he withdrew from her sopping vagina. I could see her moisture shining on his shaft as he gave it two or three firm strokes with his hand to send a burst of cum across both our faces. It wasn’t as copious as I’ve known it at times – he had been holding on too long – but the symbolism at the end of our first threesome was very strong for us all.
We finished the wine, each of us in his or her own way reliving the events of the past hour. Finally, Miles asked, “Any regrets?”
Dee shook her head. “None whatsoever. I couldn’t have believed it would be so good.”
“Jane?”
“No. I’m not sure how it happened, but thank you both for everything.” I paused before asking the next question. “But what now? Will there be more?”
“If you both want it, I know that I do,” said Miles.
It was agreed. We did consider all sleeping in the one bed that night but Miles and Dee both had early starts for work next day, and we decided that enough was enough – until the next time. There were plenty more, not always as wildly uninhibited as that first session, but always loving and gradually more varied and more innovative. Dee found somewhere near her office where she transformed her lingerie wardrobe, I bought a strap-on dildo from the internet, Miles gradually introduced Dee to some of the more advanced areas that enriched our own sexual activity.
There was a three week spell of pent-up frustration when Claire was home from university – and one frantic night when she returned earlier than expected from a concert. I threw some clothes on and went downstairs to hold the fort while Miles shepherded Dee across the landing to her own room before he ducked into the shower. “You all right, Mum?” Claire asked. “You look a bit flushed.” But, perhaps thinking that Miles and I might have been up to something, she changed the subject and no more was said. As well that she couldn’t guess exactly why I was in a state, and that two people had been doing wonderful things to get me there.
I suppose we were all aware that our blissful ménage à trois couldn’t last for ever, but none of us was ready when Dee announced at dinner one night that she had a problem. Her firm wanted her to spend a year in their Paris office, where her fluent French would be an asset. The new post represented promotion and a substantial rise. After much agonising we accepted that it was for the best, at lest for a while, and Dee left us.
Our sex life was a little anti-climactic but not too badly so. We fantasised a lot about the experiences we’d enjoyed; we went back to surfing the net, but still couldn’t convince ourselves to take the plunge into the swinging scene. And one day there was an e-mail:
The week-end after next,” it read, “is a long week-end in France. Could you put up with Arnaud and me for a few nights? We could be with you by about noon on the Saturday and we could stay till Tuesday morning, if that’s OK. I’m sure you will like Arnaud. It would be nice if we could all be friends. Lol. Dee”
There had been references to Arnaud previously but nothing specific. This sounded a little more serious. At least to to Miles, who read between the lines.
“How do you fancy,” he asked me, “being fucked by a Frenchman?”
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