This is the story of poor Carol Hendrick, a normal, healthy young woman with normal, healthy desires. Unfortunately, she followed the advice of her conservative parents and married Alan, who has a low sex drive and is unable to satisfy her. But Alan is aroused by the idea of his wife having sex with other men, so he suggests she become a Hotwife and start a relationship with a man who can serve as her Bull. In Chapter 8 we see how Bill amuses himself during a time when he can not be with Carol. All characters are adults over 18.
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Carol wouldn't see me after she had cosmetic surgery. She felt she looked so bad she didn't want to get together until the bruising and swelling went away. Alan told me that the procedures were completely successful, but that Carol was in a fair amount of discomfort despite being given strong painkillers. I talked to Carol on the telephone, but she refused to Facetime me because she didn't want me to know how she looked. She said the breast implants and the rhinoplasty were the procedures that caused most of the bruises and swelling. I was instructed to find some other way to entertain myself while she healed.
At that time I was dating a very interesting woman named Rachel. She jokingly called herself a hippy, and she was different from any other woman I'd known. She was a vegan who believed in witchcraft. She owned a bunch of crystals she believed had special powers. Her body was blanketed with tattoos. I don't usually like tattoos, but Rachel's were nice. Most people with tattoos get them from a variety of artists who have conflicting styles, meaning that their bodies wind up looking like a hodgepodge. Every one of Rachel's tattoos were done by the same woman, who did a great job making it look as though everything fit together.
She wore long, loose, flowing dresses. The first thing I noticed was that Rachel didn't wear a bra, even though she had big teardrop shaped breasts. When we became intimate, I learned that she didn't wear panties, either. She thought it was healthier if her lady parts got plenty of ventilation. Rachel didn't wear makeup. Ever. We went on a camping trip, and the only products she brought were soap, shampoo, deodorant, mouthwash, toothpaste, and dental floss.
She shaved her legs, but nothing else. Rachel had a huge brown bush and thick hair under her arms. I'd never seen a bush that had never been trimmed. It was unexpectedly nice, especially when I went down on her.
She was what's called a "trust fund baby." Her grandfather made a fortune on Wall Street, and he left her an inheritance that guaranteed she never had to work. Instead, she got involved in all kinds of left-wing politics, she produced works of art, she played acoustic guitar in a music trio, and she made jewelry she sold online. Her jewelry featured those crystals she liked so much.
And she liked to eat. Rachel sometimes joked about "anorexic bitches" on magazine covers or on TV. Let's describe her body as "generous," with broad hips, a little round belly, and muscular legs that felt wonderful when they were wrapped around me. Rachel said her parents were constantly trying to get her to marry a "nice Jewish boy" so she could start producing grandchildren, but she loved being single and free. One reason she liked dating me is that I'm not Jewish, so nobody pressured her to settle down with me.
And Rachel was a nudist. When we got together at her place or mine, the first thing she'd do was take off her dress, and she wouldn't put it back on until she was ready to go. She asked me to do the same, so I was happy to live like a nudist when she was around.
"I'd like to take you camping with me," Rachel said one day. "My parents own a big RV that doesn't get used very much. How would you like to go stargazing? I know a nice place that doesn't have much light pollution.
"I could borrow my Dad's telescope and show you things you've never seen." I've always loved photographs of galaxies, planets and nebulas. This sounded like one of the most creative date ideas I'd ever heard. That was Rachel: creative. It seemed like a great way to spend a few days while Carol nursed her wounds.
Her family's RV was huge. I was glad that Rachel said she'd do the driving, because I didn't want to try to steer anything that big. It was so fancy I thought it was kind of weird to call what we were doing "camping." It had a nice shower, a flatscreen TV bigger than the one at my house, and a queen-sized bed that got a lot of use during our trip.
She drove naked. Of course. We were so high off the road that very few drivers could see her, but once in a while a trucker would drive by and get a good look at her big, beautiful breasts. Sometimes they'd honk their horn and wave, and Rachel waved right back. "You'd think these guys never saw a pair of boobs before," she said.
"I doubt that they've seen boobs as nice as yours," I replied. I was naked too, even on the highway. It seemed like a way to respect her lifestyle choice.
"You can compliment my boobs as much as you want," she said. "It makes the trip go faster."
We had to cover up when it was time to check into the campground and park the RV. I was impressed with her skill maneuvering that big vehicle. She backed into a narrow little slot, then showed me how to plug into the electrical and water supply. It was pretty hot out in the desert, but the RV had an air conditioner that kept us comfortable even in the blazing sun.
Rachel didn't drink, and when we were together, I didn't either. She considered alcohol to be toxic, with a lot of calories and no nutritional value. Instead, she vaped marijuana extract. In college Rachel enjoyed smoking marijuana, but she switched to vaping because she thought it did less damage to her lungs. She admitted that vaping wasn't completely healthy, but she thought it wasn't as bad as smoking joints, and certainly not as bad as drinking alcohol. I disagreed about the alcohol, but she asked me to vape with her, so I joined in.
I hadn't smoked a joint in years, and vaping with Rachel was a nice experience. She used a brand of extract that was very relaxing. It was perfect for listening to music and having sex. After we got parked and connected, we went inside the RV, stripped off our clothes, and Rachel put on a recording of traditional music from India. She got out her vape pen, and I felt myself become more relaxed than I'd been in months.
Rachel was one of those unique people who made me feel completely comfortable immediately. I felt I could talk about anything with her. She always seemed interested in whatever I had to say, and her offbeat perspective on life always intrigued me. She was a kind, generous person, and I was glad she suggested this trip.
"So. How do you like being an electrical engineer?" she asked before taking a long pull on her vape pen. She looked at me with big brown eyes that seemed increasingly hypnotic the longer we vaped.
"It's great, so far," I said. "I feel like I'm getting paid to solve puzzles. My co-workers are cool. A lot of the men and women I went to school with are working for companies that make war machines. I'm glad to have a job making things that actually help people. So I'm happy."
She handed me the vape pen. "Happy is good," she said.
Rachel snuggled up to me. The feeling of her skin pressed against mine was marvelously erotic. We talked about all kinds of things, and eventually Rachel thought we'd vaped long enough and she put her pen aside.
"How do you like this music?" she asked, laying her head on my shoulder."
I'm sure it was the effect of the marijuana extract, but the music sounded magical. Different. "It's wonderful. Meditative. I've never really listened to Indian music before. I like it," I said.
"I'm glad you like it," Rachel said, snuggling up a little closer. After a moment, she said, "Do you want to know what I like?"
"Sure. What do you like?" I said.
"I like this," Rachel said.
