My wife and I had a little thing we did to spice up our sex lives. Every Friday evening, at about ten o'clock, we would put on some music and dance. I will begin by telling you about this Friday night ritual as a prelude to describing a stunning thing that happened one such night. It concerned our two children, both at an age where hormones raged and both very attractive young people. In those days, however, youngsters were more innocent than now.
It took us at least an hour to prepare – rituals require care in their execution. I would take a bath, throw on a robe and then begin to make us a pitcher of something sweet and alcoholic, just as she liked it. She would wear her sexy bra and tiny panties, plus high-heeled black shoes, throwing a robe over herself before joining me. For a while, we would sit and listen to the music while we sipped our drinks. By the time of about the third drink, we would be ready to dance. Snuggling close, our hands roaming, feeling high and turned-on, we would move slowly and press into each other. At a certain point, I would remove her robe and then run my hands up and down her body as we moved rhythmically to the sounds. She would reach into my robe and fondle me as I did this. We would kiss deeply, our tongues intertwined, and then I would remove her bra and lean down to kiss her breasts. She would lean back and I would commence sucking, first one firm breast and then the other. Then she would drop to her knees and take me into her mouth.
While doing all this, we also used words as a turn-on. "Oh, baby, yes, I'm fucking your mouth," I would moan as she sucked. Then we would move to the couch, perhaps do a sixty-nine for a while, all the while muttering, "Oh, yes, suck, suck, lick, baby, that feels so good" or, in her case, "Yes, lover, yes, use that tongue on me, I love it."
The tale of the wild Friday night begins with our usual preparations, except that this time Ronnie and Michelle, our two children, did not go out that night. Ronnie had taken a shower and was hanging around in his shorts, leafing through a magazine. And as I started to mix the liquors with some juice, Michelle came strutting along, also having just taken a shower. Wearing a short light robe, she looked luscious, I must admit. I had not been oblivious to her loveliness for a number of years and more recently, I had noticed the obvious development of her breasts. My organ perked up a bit as she stood near me, watching.
"Dad, can Ronnie and I hang around too tonight? Can we listen to the music and dance too?"
It was a bit of a surprise but I figured they would get bored in ten minutes and go to their rooms, so I agreed.
When Iris came downstairs, she too was surprised but also not particularly troubled. I noticed how she eyed Ronnie's muscular body and smiled at him as he sipped the drink I had poured for him.
"How's the drink, sweetheart?" she asked him, sitting nearby.
"Fine, Mom. Kind of strong though."
"We like it that way honey, at least on Friday nights," she giggled as she said that.
"Why Friday?" he asked innocently.
"Uh, that's when we dance and …."
When she paused, Michelle grinned and completed the thought, "That's when they fool around."
"Oh," said Ronnie and shrugged.
As we sat there in the living room, listening to the music, the pitcher hit bottom in no time at all and I had to mix us a new batch of drinks. At a certain point somebody had turned down the lights, perhaps it was me but to tell the truth I was a bit high and could not swear to it. In fact, we were all a bit high. In fact, I am pretty sure that the second pitcher of punch was stronger than the first.
The conversation turned to the theme of "fooling around," as now it seemed that Ronnie had enough to drink to not just shrug it off.
"Mom, Dad, when are you going to … dance … and … fool around?"
Iris laughed and jumped up. "Right now!" she cried and grabbed me.
The children watched us as we swayed to the music. I was feeling no pain and didn't mind an audience at all. I leaned down and she eagerly met me with her mouth open and her tongue probing mine. We kissed deeply for a while as my hand roamed around her breasts, casting the robe aside to do so. I felt her tremble and press against me.
The music played on and we moved to its subtle rhythms, our bodies pressed against each other. I could tell Iris was swooning from the drinks, the heat, and the sexual play of my hands on her body and the rapid intertwined tongues that told each other of our heightening excitement.
"Dad, can I dance with you?" Michelle asked suddenly.
We broke our kiss and I glanced at Iris.
"Why not?" she said, laughing, "Hey, Ronnie, you and Mom will dance too."
