Letters from the Attic Ch. 03

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This is the third and last of the “Letters from the Attic” series. I hope you enjoy it.

Jill stood in front of the bathroom mirror, turned, and posed. She didn’t think of it as posing, more like an extensive visual check-up. She liked what she saw, finally. She was in the best shape she’d been in years. The tiny white thong she wore was beautiful. It was a basic G-string with a wavy sheer white sash attached at the waist. You could see everything beneath it if you looked. The G-String in the back plunged through a strong, muscular behind with the same heft and shelf it had back when Jill was a pole vaulter in college.

Her stomach above the thong was flat and well-muscled and the legs extending below the tiny string “covering” her pubic bone were equally stout. She’d worked hard on her thighs, which were the last to come around. After weeks of work, their full musculature had returned. Since this was the thing that had first drawn Paul’s interest so many years ago, she wanted them back. The lacy white teddy top, split down the middle and tied below her neck, revealed well-toned abs, full pert, upturned breasts with a slight East/West point to the nipples, arms muscled out by hours of work, and not an ounce of fat. The face wasn’t half-bad either, she thought. Strong high cheekbones, big blue eyes, clear skin, no wrinkles, a pert nose and full pouty lips, all framed by honey-blonde hair highlighted naturally by the sun.

Her visit to Gulf Shores last summer with her husband Paul, and their friends Carmen and Tim had taught her several things about herself. First, she was more of an exhibitionist than she ever thought she could ever be, but she usually needed some lubrication to bring it out. Part of the conclusion was driven by her allowing her friend Carmen’s husband Tim to pound her pussy into a wet mess in the middle seat section of a suburban rolling down I-75. She’d liked the thrill, even the risk of getting caught. The bathing suits she’d worn on the beach were scandalous, and she enjoyed the looks she got as she strolled through the crowded beach.

She also found that she had a submissive streak a mile wide. She’d always thought of herself as strong and independent, and in virtually every part of her life she was, but she had willingly let Tim and Emilio, the young Mexican stud she and Carmen had picked up from the beach, spank the ever-living hell out of her ass and tits while each were impaling her front and back. To her great surprise the abuse hit her like a sexual afterburner. This was simply something she and Paul had never even thought to try, but having tried it, she loved it.

The trip also put her on a self-improvement mission, and she was now seeing the results. None of her friends had caused it, it was Emilio. She could still remember everything about Emilio, his long, tapered fingers, his jet-black hair, his winning smile, and yes, his ridiculously luscious, thick dark cock. Months later she could still feel it pressing against her walls, winning its way into places no one had ever reached, feel it roughly violate her rump as Emilio pinned her against the kitchen island and took her from behind until her legs jellied. He was a natural dominant, probably because he’d been raised by Mexican industrial royalty and had been ordering people around his whole life. He roughly ass-fucked her, punctuating his thrusts with a continuous spanking of her bottom and a degrading series of forced concessions. To her surprise, this lit her candle like nothing she’d ever felt before. She had nearly passed out from the continuous series of orgasms in her that he had produced. God! it had been unreal. She remembered it as though it were yesterday.

She would probably have been self-conscious if others had been watching them. There had been lots of drinking, but she still clearly remembered enough to recall the gibbering, mindlessness desperation with which she had given herself to Emilio. But Carmen and Tim had already gone to sleep and Paul was entertaining Emilio’s cute little girlfriend in their bedroom, so no one saw her utterly lose herself to him. Paul was forgiving, but there are some things you can’t un-say in a marriage. Usually they are things said in anger when words are used like bullets. But Jill was pretty sure that if Paul had watched her let Emilio pin her arms behind her while he ass-fucked her and heard her tell Emilio that he owned her, that she was his slut, and that he could have her anytime, anywhere, and in any way he wanted, he would have a hard time forgetting or forgiving.

Emilio’s insulting comment was delivered so offhandedly that it couldn’t possibly have been meant as a slight. “You are so lovely” he said in the afterglow of their wild sex. He had run his fingers over the slight paunch from the top of her stomach to just above her quim and asked “how old are you?” She had flinched. When she told him her age, he responded “that is my sister Lucretia’s age, she has had children and Gaziantep Cumhuriyet Escort has gotten bigger too.” That’s all it took. That’s it. She went on a manic mission to the gym four times a week along with three long runs a week as well.

The Gulf Shores trip had changed more than just her attitude towards working out. It, or perhaps their tryst with Tim and Carmen, had changed the way she and Paul acted towards one another in the bedroom. Before they ever shared themselves, she and Paul were a typical loving couple, she thought; ’til death do us part, forsaking all others, the whole nine yards. They were a bit more adventurous than some, but essentially their world revolved around one another, exclusively.

But when Paul discovered that she and Carmen had been lovers since college, he encouraged her not to bury it, but to act on it. The result was that all four of them ended up in the sack together at Carmen’s place, again in Gulf Shores, and twice more since. She reminisced about those times as she idly ran her fingers over a taut nipple.

The sex they had enjoyed with other couples was so different, so intense, so much more satisfying than the ordinary variety, that they tried to duplicate that feeling in their own bedroom. Their sex became rougher, edgier, less like making love and more like fucking. Jill wasn’t sure whether it was the feeling she was doing something wild and unpredictable when they swapped, or the dominant way that Emilio and Tim had taken her that sent them in this direction. Whatever the cause, the contents of their “toy drawer” in the dresser had changed. It formerly kept under lock and key the nighties that were to skimpy for the kids to see and the occasional porn. Now it contained fur-lined cuffs, a ball gag, several varieties of big dildos and vibrators, nipple clamps, blindfolds, paddles, and various other restraints. If you judged it solely by the frequency and intensity of the sex, their sex life was better than it had ever been.

But if you looked at whether they continued to achieve true intimacy, that unbreakable bond formed when two people give themselves to one another completely, well…that hadn’t been seen for a while. When she walked back into their bedroom in the condo at Gulf Shores to wake Anne, the young coed they’d picked up at the same time Emilio joined them, she’d found her asleep with her head neatly crooked into Paul’s side, her head on his chest, his arm trailed protectively, even lovingly, down the young girl’s back. That’s my spot! Jill had thought, and she had broken down crying before drying her eyes to wake Paul’s young paramour and send her away. Paul hadn’t said a thing to her that indicated he still held a candle for Anne and she had no reason to believe he had kept contact with her, but she couldn’t get the image of the two holding one another so closely out of her mind.

There certainly wasn’t an ounce of hostility between she and Paul. Paul loved her thoroughly and he wasn’t taking her for granted, and she felt the same way. They continued to love, laugh, and play with one another and the kids just as they’d done before, but things in the bedroom had dramatically changed. Everything they did was with her complete and enthusiastic consent, but the connection was way more physical, far less emotional.

It was water under the bridge she thought as she heard Paul stir in the bedroom. She couldn’t undo it any more than she could take back her words of surrender to Emilio. Still, she and Paul were no longer alone in bed together, even when they were alone together.

Paul was waiting for her, so Jill pushed all those thoughts out of her head as she left the bathroom.

“Hey beautiful!” he said.

“Hey handsome” she answered. This was an old exchange, repeated hundreds of times through the years. Comforting.

Paul looked delicious, as always. He was laying on his side with his leg propped up, wearing only his boxers and reading some sports article on his Ipad. Always. He closed it and threw it on a pillow near the nightstand.

“Come to me!” he said opening his arms. She did. For the next several minutes they spooned, her back to his front, not kissing, not touching each other’s erogenous zones, just being close. Paul ran his hands up and down Jill’s arms and rubbed her back and neck when it felt tension. It was heavenly.

Paul flipped her onto her back so that she would face him.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked. Jill knew exactly what it was. She was amazed at Paul’s ability to sense her mood. How did he know what she’d been thinking?

“A little, sometimes” Jill answered. “Sometimes I wish we could just go back to where we were before, the way we were with each other in bed, everywhere. But I guess you can’t go back, can you?”

“I don’t know why we couldn’t” Paul answered. “Basically, we’d just have to say ‘no more’ and mean it, and we’d have to be satisfied with just one another, which isn’t hard. That’s the way it was for years before all this began. It’s just a matter of commitment and concentration on what we want. Is that what you want to do?” he asked.

Wow, now that’s the million-dollar question Jill thought.

“Tonight, yes. For the forseeable future, yes. Forever? Probably not.” Jill answered. “I’m like everyone I suppose, I have mood swings. There are times I feel guilty about it, times I regret that you and I aren’t like we were before all this started. Then there are times that I think it’s just stupid fun and that we’re like surfers searching for the perfect wave. There are places that I go sexually when we’re swapping that I never reach when it’s just the two of us. Not better, necessarily, but different, very powerful.

Not a very definitive answer, is it?” Jill asked.

“No, but I didn’t expect one. I think the new stuff we’re doing in bed is probably like anything else, like dope or booze” Paul said.

“What do you mean?” Jill asked.

“Well, if you keep stuff like that under control and use it to have a good time every now and again its fine. But if you’re not careful, it starts to make decisions for you instead of vice versa and you can become like an addict. I’m guessing that there are people who are totally addicted to that kind of lifestyle and it’s the only way they can get off. I don’t want that. I don’t mind it when…well, that’s the understatement of the century…I love it when we’re both in the mood for it. I like seeing you get outside yourself and go crazy. It’s like the world’s best porn, live, and by someone I love who returns to me when she’s done. I think you’re just about the sexiest woman in the world and it seems like a crime to keep that bottled up.

But tonight, and for the next while, let’s just be together and enjoy one another. It doesn’t have to be sex to end all time, I just want to be with you and not worry about all that other junk. How’s that sound?” Paul asked.

“It sounds damned good to me” Jill responded. And it was.


The holidays came and went and they entered the coldest days of winter. The two didn’t meet and swap with Carmen and Tim at all over that time, and their interaction in the bedroom returned to something very close to pre-Carmen normal. Comfortable, enjoyable, perhaps even a little monotonous, but reaffirming.

One afternoon in February Jill noticed a brochure sitting on Paul’s desk in the study. National Society of Home Builders, International Trade Show, Miami Florida, March 27-29, 2019.

“So, I understand you’re heading to Miami next month” she asked that evening after dinner.

“Maybe” Paul responded. We’re doing so much business now that we’re getting offers to be comped by the suppliers. They pay the entry fee and our hotel rooms so that we’ll come hang out. They wine and dine you and push you to buy more product, or drop their competitors. The biggest one is our lumber company. Steve’s gone to a couple of them but I’ve never gone.”

“Wow, you guys are big swinging dicks” Jill joked.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but the offer is on the table.”

“It might be fun to get awaaaaay with Steve and Wendy!” Jill added, smiling seductively so as to leave little doubt about precisely how it would be fun.

“Are you sure?” Paul asked.

“Yes” Jill answered.

“Okay then, I’ll talk to Steve” Paul promised.

“About?” Jill queried in her sexiest voice. She had already confided in Paul that she found his business partner Steve delicious and would be interested in “entertaining” both he and his wife Wendy, a petite minx with a saucy disposition. The four of them had enjoyed several dinners together out, even gone clubbing, and although there was plenty of joking, touching and teasing between them, they’d never crossed the line.

The question, and the seductive way she asked it lit Paul up. “I think I’ll ask him about whether he’d like to bend my pretty blonde wife over a couch and fuck her while watching me go down on his wife. How about I ask him about that?” he responded.

“Ooooh. Well, now that’s an image to think about isn’t it?” Jill answered. “I’m not sure that being that crude is the proper approach, but you might let him know that his wife isn’t the only woman in the world who finds him attractive, and that you have called his wife ‘that hot little minx’ on more than one occasion. Then you could sorta see how the conversation goes. Maybe that?”

“Dangerous waters” Paul responded. “Steve and I get along about as well as two people in business together possibly can. We’re making a better living doing this than we ever have before, and we’re on the lip of the cup of doing even better. I’d hate to see all that be thrown away.”

Jill unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse and clicked the hinge of her front loader bra. Her breasts tumbled out, firm and proud. “Tell me, Paul” she said grasping the back of his head and pulling his lips onto her left nipple, “do you think your business partner would be dissatisfied placing his mouth on my tit and sucking it while I rocked against him like this?”

“No” Paul said momentarily breaking his lip lock on Jill’s firm pink bud, “but he might become dissatisfied when he heard his wife howling in bed as I light her up with my cock.”

“Well, you’ll just have to be diplomatic while you fuck her, won’t you?” Jill asked. “Let’s go to bed and we can talk about it there.” And so, they did.


Paul fretted about how he’d bring the subject up with Steve for hours, but nothing made sense. Either his proposed opening conversations were too guarded and unclear, or too over the top; “hey. wanna fuck?” He’d just have to wing it.

Later that week (after a fair amount of pestering from Jill for not doing it earlier) he made it a point to come back by their HQ and park himself in Steve’s office. Like Paul, Steve was a former football player. He’d been an offensive lineman for the Tennessee Volunteers back in their heyday and although he never got much of a sniff from the NFL, he was a helluva athlete. He’d made it a point coming out of college to drop the extra 60 pounds he had added to get to his playing weight and now went 6′ 5″ and around 235. His knees ached all the time and he walked funny when the weather changed, but he swore it had all been worth it. He was as easygoing a man as Paul had ever met, great with customers, honest, and with a quiet financial genius that allowed them to get deals done that others couldn’t.

“Whatcha need?” Steve asked as Paul rounded the corner to his office. Their schedules were so demanding that all of their conversations started and ended just like this one—short staccato bursts of the fewest words needed to convey a thought.

“You have ten minutes?” Paul asked.

“For you I got fifteen” Steve responded. That was one of the things Paul loved about Steve. It didn’t make any difference how successful they’d become, how well-regarded Steve was in the community, or how many demands there were on his time, he always had time to talk.

“I’ve been thinking about the convention in Miami” Paul began.

“What about it?” Steve answered.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about going and taking Jill. We’re not going to be able to get away for spring break this year, so doing the convention with her at the end of March might be a good break” Paul continued.

“Sure. Okay. That’s fine. What? You want expenses?” Steve asked.

“No, that’s not really what I wanted to talk about” Paul said, fidgeting.

Steve was an accurate judge of body language. It was one of the things that made him so good at sales and customer upkeep. He sensed that Paul had a much bigger issue at stake and that he was struggling to say it. “Spit it out dude” he intoned, “it can’t be that bad!”

“Well, Jill and I were wondering if you and Wendy might like to join us in Miami?” Paul asked.

“Maayybeee….” Steve responded, puzzled. “What’s really going on here buddy?”

Now or never! Paul thought.

Paul extended both arms and flipped his hands open in Steve’s direction. “Okay….we swing. Jill and I swing. Jill finds both you and Wendy very attractive. Jill goes both ways.” Paul blurted out.

Steve looked pole-axed. “You do what?” he asked. “Jill? Your Jill? The blonde goddess you’re married to, that Jill?”

“Yes, that one. We swing. Not very much. Not very often, and only with people we know and trust. And yes, Jill likes women.” Paul repeated. “Jill finds both you and Wendy very attractive” Paul said, realizing that in his nervousness he was repeating himself.

Steve stared at him a moment, raised the index finger on his right hand in the universal “wait just a second” signal, and hit the intercom on his desk, “Wend, come on in, can you, hon?”

“Not if you want the month end reports done I can’t” Wendy replied tartly.

“They can wait. Come on in” Steve replied. Wendy appeared a few seconds later.

“What’s so damned important?” she asked, perturbed at being interrupted when she was so close to finishing her project. Wendy was a petite firecracker. She went about 5′ 5″ with brownish-red hair, an all-American face with a nose perhaps a smidgen too big, and a figure that was more hourglass than athletic, with credibly full lovely breasts her billboard feature, but with a very respectable bottom and legs as well. She made no secret of the fact that she found Paul very attractive and constantly kidded him about “getting her time” with him in the storage room. She was a merciless tease and on the few occasions she spotted Paul staring at her “that way,” she made a special point of embarrassing him with it. She had a mind like a steel trap and a mouth like a truck driver.

“Paul here was suggesting that we all go to Miami to the NSHB convention at the end of March, weren’t you Paul?” Steve asked.

“I was” Paul replied.

“Okay. So?” Wendy asked, just as puzzled as Steve had been before.

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