Never having worked with an editor before, I had no idea what to expect. Now,
LarryInSeattle
may have spoiled me for all other editors. Many thanks, Larry.
+ + +
Huge changes overtook our lives in the year and a half following the threesome we'd had that New Year's Eve. My wife and I wound up moving in February to a small city more than twelve hours drive from the house in which I'd had my first "experiment" and my wife and I had had our first "adventure" with our trusted friend. We got pregnant shortly after we arrived and welcomed a daughter into the world nine months after that. A month later we took in one of my wife's cousin's children, who'd been orphaned by her mother's meth addiction.
My internal conflict about having cheated on my wife—and about discovering she had cheated on me at least once with my friend—scabbed over and I didn't pick at it. The rigors of moving, my new job, and becoming the parent of two children pushed almost all of that from my mind. My wife and I frequently found ourselves exhausted from the rigors of parenting and our sex life suffered, but we were happy and I felt a fulfillment that I hadn't known before.
My friend's work schedule and the relative suddenness of our move meant that I hadn't had the chance to see him before we moved away. The responsibilities of our new family and my new job meant that I hadn't been able to make the long trip to see my parents or my sisters since the move, let alone my friend. And while my parents and one of my sisters had made the drive up to see us following the birth of our child, my friend hadn't yet been able to do so.
We talked on the phone at least a couple of times a month. My uncertainty of our status as friends after having become sexual, both individually and together with my wife, proved ridiculous. Our bond was still strong. It helped me sometimes just to talk to him about the new stresses to which I found myself subjected. I needed that long-distance friendship, that link to my past so much that it was easy to mentally brush aside the fact that he and my wife had cheated on me at least that one time. I felt so close to the two of them and I needed them both so much that whatever they had done seemed trivial in the light of all that had come after it. Besides, I figured, how could I hold it against them when I'd done it too? Maybe watching them fuck and getting turned on by it had helped me deal with it in some way. I still had my moments of anxiety, but I got over it.
My wife and I sometimes talked dirty to each other about the nasty things we'd done during our two threesomes with our friend. It added some spice when we did.
My friend and I never discussed any of the sexual things we'd done together when we spoke. We'd never actually had any sort of real discussion of our sexual activities or what they made us think or feel, even when we had been together. That sort of thing was uncomfortable. We still clung to the illusion that we were "manly men" like we had always done until the lust overcame us and our cocks came out.
Life was pretty good for me, overall, until some bad news came: my wife's aunt was coming to visit next month, in June.
My wife loved her aunt more than she loved almost anyone but I couldn't stand the woman. The thought of being trapped in our small house, with no privacy and no real space between us for the nine days she planned to visit, filled me with dread. My wife understood this and had a plan.
"Why don't you drive down and visit your family while my aunt is here?" she suggested—and I loved her for it. "She's coming to see me and to spend time with the kids. Besides, you haven't taken any time off from work since we moved. "
It was a fantastic solution and it lifted my spirits immediately. I arranged the time off, spoke to my family, and then called my best friend. Three weeks later I kissed my wife before hopping into my truck and getting on the road.
This story isn't about driving on twelve-hour road trips or visiting my parents, sisters, nieces, nephews, and cousins. So all I'll say is that after I spent a loving week with my family, I drove four more hours to spend a couple of nights with my friend before I would head back to the wife and kids. As I drove that leg of the journey, I began to wonder if he had any expectations of something sexual between us. I wondered if I did. My life had changed so much in a year and a half. I'd thought about having sex with him during that time, but the physical distance between us since I'd moved made the possibility that we'd do anything sexual again seem distant also.
I rang the bell and we hugged like long-lost brothers when he opened the door. He offered me a cold beer and asked what I wanted to do for the next two days.
"This trip is about you, dude," he said. "This city is a tourist mecca—and I know you've never really spent much time here. Whatever you'd like to see, wherever you want to go, I'm game."
He'd mentioned this idea during our last phone call and I'd given it some thought. There was a list of six or eight tourist attractions, museums, and historical sites that I really did want to see. I told him the places that most interested me and he sprang up, asking, "You ready to get started?"
"Right now?"
"Dude, half the day is gone and at least three of the places on your list aren't open tomorrow."
I peed and grabbed my sunglasses and we headed out the front door.
Driving could be a nightmare in the city, so we walked and took public transportation to get from place to place. It was hot and we stopped in at numerous bars on our afternoon walking tour to rest and rehydrate. We didn't get back to his townhouse until well after dark. Nothing "experimental" happened between us that night. I reclined in his easy chair, my feet sore from walking all afternoon, and promptly fell asleep.
I woke to find that he had draped a blanket over me as I'd slept. The sun was coming up. I smelled the aroma of coffee and could hear my friend in the kitchen.
"Coffee!" I shouted.
"Coffee!" came his shouted reply and I made my way to the kitchen.
"Okay," what do you want to go and see today?"
I grabbed a mug and filled it with steaming black liquid. "Nothing," I replied. "My feet hurt and I'm still tired from yesterday's excursion. If it's up to me, we'll hang out and relax, maybe order pizza or some Chinese."
"Okay," he said, probably relieved not to have to go back out with me today to tourist attractions he'd already been to a dozen times. "How about we take this coffee into the living room? I've already got one rolled up and we can wake-and-bake to start our day of relaxation."
That sounded like just the ticket.
We played golf on his video game console that morning while stoned off of our asses and it was like being time-warped right back to college. Joking and carrying on, we were in a world of our own. It struck me sometime around mid-morning, when his bare leg touched mine, what that meant. We were alone. We didn't have to sneak around or be quiet for fear of being discovered. Neither my wife nor anyone else was going to arrive unexpectedly and declare that we were faggots to the rest of the world. Even if she did, after seeing me suck his cock and having me eat his cum from her pussy, my wife was unlikely to object. I remembered her words from just before that earlier episode, "I think a bit of gay fantasy is perfectly normal. It won't bother me a bit."
