The Troika

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For a moment, I was stunned. I was no stranger to extra-marital affairs, but this was the most direct approach I had ever had.

I had taken a walk with my dog along the creek path and met Sandra walking her dog. We stood chatting for a few minutes then, without preamble, and looking directly at me, she asked, ” Malcolm, would you have a sexual intercourse with me?”

I confess I had considered Sandra as sexual being from time to time, but never the less she left me floundering for a reply. She is normally a very direct sort of person but I hardly expected her to be that direct.

She continued staring at me, awaiting my reply. I tried to delay my answer and asked, “Is that a hypothetical question or a real proposition?”

“It’s real,” she replied. “You only have to say yes or no.”

I dragged my scattered wits together and stuttered out, “Well,….yes,…but when and where?”

“Now, at my place. Paul’s not home and won’t be back for another three hours, so it’s all right,” she stated in a matter-or-fact voice.

Jill, my wife, and I had known Sandra and Jack for some years. We had met in the local church and become friends. During that time things had been implied, rather than actually stated, which led me to believe that all was not well, sexually speaking, between Sandra and Paul.

Jill and I had been on holiday with Sandra and Paul quite a few times, and from sounds heard through thin partition walls, and from the bumps and whispers I overheard, it seemed that their sex life was not failing for want of trying. The problem, as best I could work out, was that Jack, if he did manage to get it in, went limp rather quickly. It suggested a psychological, rather than physical, problem. Further revelations concerning this state of affairs were to emerge later, but that is to get ahead of the story.

As to my own situation, Jill had announced some years before, that our sex life was over. She was no longer interested. Her career now absorbed her life.

I suppose I could have got out of the relationship at that point, but I must admit that in other respects it was all too comfortable, especially with a wife who earned considerably more than I did.

To overcome this sexual problem I had entered into a number of sexual relationships, but none of them lasted more than a few months at the most.

If I hesitated to approach Sandra for sexual favours, it was not because I did not find her attractive, far from it. It was because of my friendship with Paul that I held back. Now approached by Sandra, I found the opportunity too irresistible to refuse.

I suppose I loved Sandra in the way that one does love close friends. It was only later that this love deepened, and my desire for her grew in intensity. But if that love had depended on our first time together, I do not think it would have got very much deeper.

We went to her house, and if I was expecting some preliminary love making, some lead up to the big event, I was due to be disappointed.

We went into the house and Sandra led me straight into a spare bedroom with a rather uncomfortable single bed. Without preamble she took off her pants, lifted her skirt to reveal her female organ, opened her legs and waited.

After a bit of surprised hesitation on my part, I simply pulled out my penis. Got on top of her, and entered.

Not having any regular source of sexual gratification, even this rather unpolished approach to coitus did not deter me from spurting my male juices into her.

Now, it has been my experience that once the male has completed his orgasm, the one major complaint from women is that he seeks to remove his penis too quickly from her vagina. Not so with Sandra.

When I had completed what felt like a rather less than entertaining command performance, Sandra moved me away, got off the bed and said, “Thank you, Malcolm. I would like us to do this again some time. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

Again I was somewhat startled by the abrupt foreclosure on events. After a moment or two to get myself straight and level, I agreed to a cup of tea.

Sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea, I referred to Sandra’s suggestion that we should “do this again some time.”

“Would you really like to do this again, Sandra?” I asked somewhat tentatively.

“Yes,” she replied,” it was rather nice.

Given the conditions and approach to our sexual union, and the fact that Sandra had achieved no orgasm, I was not sure what “rather nice,” might mean, so I asked, “You found that satisfying, then?”

“Yes,” she said, “didn’t you?”

Now I was in a corner. I could not honestly say it was the most exquisite sexual experience I had ever had. On the other hand, I supposed it had given me a day or two free of sexual frustration. So I felt I could with some degree of truthfulness, respond positively. Thus, with brevity to match Sandra’s, I simply said, “Yes.”

Sandra went straight ahead to arrange our next meeting, which, to ulus escort my amazement, she wanted to be the next day. A time was arranged, and we went on to talk casually about matters unrelated to sex.

It was a somewhat perplexed Sandra lover who arrived home to consider where things should go from here.

It seemed, by implication, that Sandra was seeking an ongoing relationship with me. On the other hand, if what we had just had was to be the summit of our sexual coupling, I would not be enthusiastic for its extension. If it were to continue, there would have to be some lifting in the level of ardour and pre-coital play. The “how?” of this necessary increase in fervour, had to be considered?

By the time of our next meeting I had decided on my approach. I would appoint myself Sandra’s sexual mentor, and by cautious steps try to lead her into more satisfying couplings. Should this scheme fail, then I would know that any extended sexual relationship between us was not likely to be satisfactory.

Sandra opened the door to my knock with a bright smile and cheerful “hello.” I took the initiative straightaway, and stepping inside I put my arms round her and kissed her. It proved to be quite an ordinary kiss, with little of passion about it, but at least it was a start.

She began to lead me towards the spare bedroom again, but I put a stop to this. “Hey,” I said, “why the hurry? Let’s sit for a while.”

As I said this, I manoeuvred her into their lounge a sat her on the couch.

Without giving her a chance to argue or protest, I sat beside her. Drawing her to me I kissed her again, but this time I used my tongue to open her lips, and at the same time began to caress one of her breasts through her shirt.

At first Sandra made as if to pull away, but I was insistent, and holding her firmly I licked the inside of her mouth, my hand now softly squeezing one of her nipples through the cloth. Gradually I felt her beginning to melt against me as if surrendering herself.

I ceased kissing her and began to undo the buttons of her shirt. Sandra has very full and firm breasts, and I had observed in the past that she rarely wore bras. As the shirt opened her voluptuous bosom was exposed.

I put my hand under one of her breasts and gently stroked upwards toward the nipple. As I did this repeatedly I felt Sandra’s quivers and sighs of response. I pushed her carefully against the end of the couch and leaned over to take a nipple into my mouth while continuing to stroke her other breast with my hand.

Sandra began to give little cries of ecstasy, and I heard her moaning, “Oh God, what are you doing to me? What are you doing?”

She had submitted much more readily than I expected, so I stopped stimulating her breasts and whispered to her, “Let’s go somewhere we can be comfortable.”

I rose and took her hand, drawing her to her feet. She made as if to head for the spare bedroom again, but I stopped her. “No. Let’s use the big bed,” I said firmly, and without waiting for her agreement, I led her into their bedroom with the big double bed.

She made no protest, but stood by the bed looking at me with a soft sensuous look through half closed eyes. I had seen that look of moist rapture before, and understood the signal.

As she stood there I removed her shirt to fully expose her breasts, then unfastened the belt round her skirt.

The skirt fell to the floor and she stood before me clad only in her panties. I started at her shoulders and moved my hands down over her body, lingering for a moment over her breasts, then on down to her panties. I murmured words of praise about her body, and leaned towards her to kiss her softly as I explored her.

She leaned against me murmuring, “Malcolm, dearest, oh Malcolm…”I pulled down her pants to her ankles and she stepped out of them.

All this activity had brought my penis to full stretch, and as she pulled against me I placed it between the top of her legs and slid it back and forth across her cleft, making sure I did not enter her.

Sandra cried out, “Oh God, you’re torturing me…you’re driving me mad…”

She sagged against me, her body shaking with emotion. I lifted her onto the bed and came beside her, and began kissing her while inserting my finger into her, seeking her clitoris. As I moved my finger over the little mound, feeling her increasing wetness, she continued to cry out, “Please, please…”

She had done nothing to me, but being thoroughly aroused, and realising Sandra was well and truly ready, I decided that now was the time to enter her.

I pulled her legs further apart, came over her, and entered.

As I slid up and down inside her she tried to move with me, but it was clear that this was something new for her. She was awkward in her movements. To try and over- come this I held her firmly and thrust in deep as she moaned and cried out.

I had reached the peak and could not hold out any longer, yenimahalle escort so I spurted into her. Sandra, feeling my sperm thumping into her, screamed out, “Yes… yes… yes…” as she writhed, trying to get me deeper into her.

As I finished I continued to stay in her, letting my penis relax. She had not had an orgasm as far as I could tell, but as I lay there with her she continued her moans, and this time they were interspersed with coherent phrases; “Oh Malcolm…Never before…Not like this…Never like this…Oh my darling…”

Finally she calmed down and as I withdrew she gave clear expression to her feelings. “It’s never been like this with Paul, never. He’s never done those things to me, Malcolm, It was like being in Heaven.”

These remarks gave me some clue as the source of the sexual problem that Paul and Sandra had. It seemed that there was no foreplay, no real lovemaking, between them. I knew that Paul especially came from a rather puritanical background, and this may well have led him to reticent behaviour during sexual relationships. I stored this thought away for future contemplation.

Later I was to discover that Paul and Sandra had not experienced any other sexual partner, and they therefore had little idea of the full beauty sexual intercourse could give rise to. It was only when Sandra read a book on the subject of sexual techniques that she gained some inkling of what could be.

Sandra’s rather overwhelming response to our activity was very flattering to my male ego, and I determined that, all being well, there would be enhanced versions of this in the future.

Over what was to become a regular feature of our post-sexual intercourse activity, we adjourned for a cup of tea. Sandra took every opportunity to stroke and caress me. By the end of about an hour I was ready to go again, so I said, “Let’s have another intercourse.”

Sandra did nothing to hide her astonishment. She declared that she did not believe I could do it again so soon. I simply said, “Try me.”

She did try me.

There now began a relationship that extended over two years before a major change occurred.

On our fifth coming together, which happened in my house, I took further steps in the advancement of Sandra’s sexual education.

Sandra’s somewhat prim approach to our first intercourse had disappeared completely, to be replaced by an eagerness that for the sake of extended love play, I sought to restrain. On this fifth occasion I decided to take a chance on a new manoeuvre.

We had arrived at the stage love-play where we were both ready to eat each other. At this point I moved Sandra to the edge of the bed, raised her legs so her feet were on the bed with her legs parted.

“What…what are you doing,” she asked in a lost in sexual mist voice.

I knelt in front of her and looked at her sexual organ. She had a thin covering of pubic hair running down to a firmly cleft slit. I said quietly, “Do you know how beautiful you’re vagina is?”

She did not speak, but gave a long whimpering sigh. I parted the outer lips and began to move my finger over her opening. As she began to writhe I lifted the hood of her clitoris and ran my finger over the little mound. Her whimpering became little screams of delight.

I moved to kiss the glistening, wet organ, and as my lips touched her opening, she suddenly fought to sit up, protesting, “What the hell are you doing to me…you can’t do that…stop it…”

I wrapped my arms round her thighs and held her while I slid my tongue into her.

For a while her protests and struggling continued, but soon began to subside, and she began to cry out, “Oh God, oh God, don’t stop darling, don’t stop.”

So far in our relationship Sandra had not had an orgasm. I had come to the tentative decision that she was one of those women who never did climax in that way. I was wrong.

As I intensified my oral stimulation, alternating between her opening and her clitoris, Sandra suddenly started to vibrate. From moans and soft screams she began to shriek, “Stop, I can’t stand it…stop…stop…it’s agony.”

I clung to her as her whole body began to thrash up and down and her shrieks became sobs of orgasmic anguish.

As I felt her pass the climax of her ecstasy I drew her back onto the bed to lay her with her legs wide open. I entered her. Her body was bathed in sweat, and inside she was hot and wet. As I beat into her, the shrieking sobs subsided to become a gentle weeping as she covered my face with kisses.

When it was over we lay, arms round each other, in a state of post-coital peace. In this condition of contentment I decided to risk a question I had on my mind.

“Sandra, do you try any of what we’ve been doing with Paul?”

Sandra did not answer for a few moments, then she said, “No, it’s all reserved for you, now.”

I had been of the opinion that Sandra had only used me to try out her sexuality and then to transfer the results to sex with Paul. I admit that up to this point I had felt no particular sense of guilt about my adulterous relationship with Sandra, but with Sandra’s statement that her sexual activity was reserved for me, a feeling of sadness came over me. I pursued my question.

“Do you mean you don’t have sex with Paul any more?”

“Oh yes, I have sex with him,” she said in a scoffing manner, “I just lay there and let him get on with it, or I try to pretend it’s you. He doesn’t seem to care. Anyway, the result is no different from what it’s always been. Mostly he goes slack before he comes, and I finish him off with my hand. It’s all rather boring.”

“But if you tried some of the things we do…”I began, but Sandra interrupted.

“The real thing is with you, now. I could do anything with you (I made a mental note of this), but I can’t be bothered with Paul, I just do my duty.”

I couldn’t let the matter drop. “Look, it seems a great pity that if you feel you’ve got to have sex with Paul, you can’t enjoy it. Physically, you’re the sort of women who could easily have sex with two men, even more, and get wonderful pleasure from it. So why not enjoy Paul as well as me?”

My word about her being able to enjoy more than one man later proved truer than I realised at the time of speaking. Sandra was one of those fortunate women who, once released for their sexual inhibitions, can have seemingly endless multiple orgasms. There are few men who can satisfy such women, and if she is to be fulfilled, then the man must learn to share her.

I continued to try and persuade Sandra that an enhanced sex life with Paul need not damage her relationship with me, but she turned argumentative. Eventually she asked, “Suppose I had just had sex with Paul, and for once he had managed to put his sperm in me, and then shortly after I wanted you, would you want me with Paul’s sperm still inside me?”

This was an extreme situation, and one that at the time I did not think would arise, but I said, “If after having Paul, you wanted me, I should be honoured. In Paul’s case I would be certain he carried no disease, so I would not hesitate to take you.”

Sandra lay gazing at me for some time, then said, “I love you Malcolm, I really do love you.”

That was enough. Quickly we were enmeshed with each other again, her hot, moist vagina sliding over my hard organ.

In the following months no more was said about the relationship with Paul, until I spent time with the two of them in their seaside shack.

The “shack” is a mere euphemism for what are almost two houses joined together. In the early days of their marriage Paul and Sandra bought a block of land on the coast, some four hundred kilometres from the city. On the block they built the first part of the “Shack.”

Despite the inadequacy of their sex lives, they did manage to produce some children, and these children were now producing offspring of their own. To accommodate this expanding family at holiday times an extra wing, which was virtually a self contained house in its own right, was added. The two halves were joined by a sort of anteroom with doors giving access to both parts.

The location of this house is on a part of the coast that, apart from boating and fishing, offers little else in the way of interesting things to do. After being invited for the first time to spend a week at the “Shack,” Jill would have nothing further to do with the place. “It’s as boring as a wet Sunday afternoon,” she commented.

So it came about that I got invitations to spend time with Sandra and Paul at their Shack. I was very happy to go out fishing with Paul in his boat, but it was a kind of sexual hell because Sandra and I could not get together.

I had become thoroughly sexually entangled with Sandra and she with me. We needed each other frequently. When they were at home in the suburban house all went well. I could get together with Sandra about three times a week, and at each meeting we managed intercourse at least twice.

As Sandra advanced in her sexual experience with me through anal sex and bondage, she grew ever more demanding. She had found her true sexual self, which turned out to be an extremely passionate woman. Clearly she was moving beyond the point where I could completely satisfy her sexual needs, and this became a matter of discussion with her.

I returned to the idea that she might seek to restore and enhance her sex life with Paul. Initially she responded as she had at first, rejecting the idea, but gradually she seemed to come around.

Nothing further was said on the subject, but a few months later, when I was visiting their Shack, Sandra repeated the question she had asked me some time before. How would I feel having sex with her soon after Paul had taken her? I gave the same answer as before, “I would be honoured.”

Sandra said nothing, but gave a strange sort of smile.

On the third day of my visit it was decided we would go swimming in “The Cove.” This was a small, isolated inlet a little way along the coast. Cliffs hemmed it in, with a path leading to the beach at one end. Out to sea was a reef that broke the force of the incoming waves, leaving the waters of The Cove peaceful on all but the roughest days.

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