This is the first episode in my story series "Fun, an Affair then Who Knows Where".
A call from a mate from long before presents a situation where sex with no strings with him and his wife is the order of the day.
Thank you for reading - comments welcome and helpful.
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After Ruthie and I finished, I steered clear of committing myself to anyone. I was very lucky to have had such striking emotional and physical relationships. Ruthie was "the one". I knew that I'd come pretty close to asking her to marry me but life started to accelerate away and I never found the right time.
It also wasn't lost on me that my introduction to sex had been extraordinary. The first three women I'd had sex with all knew each other. Each of them had witnessed me being sexual with another one of them, at least once, if not more.
Including the fourth woman I'd had sex with (who was best friends with the third), I had never once had to wear a condom, although I had offered. It was perhaps a reflection of the time and that each of those four women had a degree of sexual confidence and self-awareness that the pill had been an option for all of them. Decades on, the erotic, unrestrained feeling of being intimate with these women with no barriers has not been lost on me.
After Ruthie, I had enjoyed two short-term relationships. As a result, my first experience of a condom was horrible. This was where I began to believe I was a bit bigger than some because every one I tried made me feel like my shaft was being compressed, even strangled.
Sexually, neither relationship flourished as a result, and I appreciate that perspective might be viewed as selfish but, having known what it was like to feel the full, warm, moist immersion of my partner's vagina encompassing me, I had been somewhat spoilt.
However, it wasn't just about the sex and both finished because, mainly, we just didn't "hit it off" with each other and, if I'm honest, I ended up comparing both to Ruthie and they came up short. Whilst the sex with Ruthie was a central and important part of our relationship, we worked together and the common ground and compromise we shared to make it work was a big ask for any other relationship to match up to.
So, after Ruthie and those two relatively brief relationships, I decided to settle with being on my own. I had a good set of friends, a successful work life and was saving good money towards buying a house. I was in my mid-twenties and OK with where I was.
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The "fun" started as a result of a call from a distant friend of mine called Pete. I'd known him on and off since schooldays. He was a "thrill of the chase" guy who invariably failed at relationships because of that trait and had, in fact, been hoping to date Ruthie in the early days when I knew her as a friend.
However, her expectations of men were changing (it was good for me that they did) and he didn't cover himself in glory in trying to win her over and she moved on. My friendship with Ruthie began to change on a particular night where we were in the same bedroom. I was naked having sex with another friend on the floor in front of Ruthie, while she was topless in a bed, sat up looking at me, while Pete snored after what Ruthie described the following morning as a "half-baked quick fuck" (I have written about it in a previous story). Pete was out of the picture.
About a year or so into my time with Ruthie, I happened to see him playing pool one night with a woman I didn't know in a local pub. Having said hello, he introduced the woman as Stevie. Mid brown, shoulder length hair but with a bit of body and wave to it with a few highlights and wearing a biker style leather jacket with a vest top underneath and jeans, she acknowledged me and we passed a few words but I would have said she was stand-offish at best, almost as if to convey that I wasn't worth the trouble of conversation.
Pete told me she was actually called Stephanie but insisted on the more masculine Stevie. Suffice to say, platitudes were made with Pete about meeting up at some point and we went our separate ways. Nothing happened and Pete became a memory, mainly of later school days.
So, about nearly four years later, and to my total surprise, I got a phone call from Pete. To say this was unusual was an understatement but it was good to hear from him in any case.
Things had apparently moved on with Stevie since I met them. They'd moved in together and got married soon after. He also let me know that "Stevie" was a thing of the past and Stephanie, or Steph, it was now. We soon moved on to the main point of his call. Pete was wanting to revisit old times.
"Andy, do you remember when we used to go over the fields and talk shit about sex and stuff?"
"Yes, I do. Now that's a good while ago, Pete."
In our mid-teens, like probably most adolescents with a pot of hormones whirling around in their bodies, we were obsessed with girls and sex and would go over the fields and talk about what we would like to do and which girls we liked.
I suppose we were each other's friend who we felt we could get into that kind of chat with, especially if it was accompanied by cigarettes (almost certainly) and alcohol (occasionally). I think, as well, that, possibly for a dare, I discovered the stimulating feeling of having my penis out in the open air for something other than a piss. Anyway, it was a long time gone and we'd both grown up since then. However, Pete might not have done.
"Well, I told Steph about it and...she was really turned on."
"Really?" I wondered what he'd said about that event as I couldn't think of any redeeming features relating to it. My life since then had far surpassed the speculation we indulged in on what things might be like, albeit with perhaps one or two moments where we were exposed in each other's company.
"Yes, really" Pete replied, "and I wanted to know if you wanted to do something about it with us, Andy." I wondered what on earth he had said. But, in the interests of not being averse to a bit of fun with no commitment, I suggested a plan.
"Well, why don't I come over sometime and we can talk about it."
"You can talk about it but I think Steph is not going to be shy! She's a bit of a sex bomb, you know."
This was all a bit strange. Fundamentally, my somewhat distant mate, who I'd not seen for four years, was possibly suggesting a maybe or maybe not threesome with his wife, who I vaguely met once and found to be somewhat less than friendly.
It all seemed a bit tenuous but the adventurous side of me, which I'd discovered and cultivated over the course of my sex life but had subsided in recent times, told me to go along with it, so I did.
It was a couple of Saturdays later that I drove over to their house -- a small 2 bed house in a newish estate on the very outskirts of their local town - a good 40 minutes away by car from my home, at least. Modern and anonymous was the impression I got. I rang the doorbell and Steph answered.
"Hi Andy, come on in. What do you want to drink?"
I offered my bottle of wine and Steph took it and stuffed it straight in the freezer.
"Thank you. We'll get to that later. I've got one on the go. Make yourself at home."
Their home was small. The small squarish hallway had a door to a loo and shower, stairs up and a door ahead to the living room.
While Steph poured the wine in the kitchen (which, with a house of this size, was, essentially, the other half of the living room), I had a chance to take her in for the first time.
Beneath her hair, now without highlights and resting on her shoulders with a fringe at the front, was a cut-off T shirt (under which I couldn't help noticing her nipples moving freely) and a shortish denim skirt. Steph was quite tall -- taller than Pete, I thought.
With two cold wines in hand, Steph sat next to me on their sofa. It was hard to gauge from a few words in a pub what someone's accent is but Steph's was a London-ish twang which I was very familiar with -- along with straightforward language to match.
