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Benson Adult Dating Story
I almost pass out on the couch, and watch my prim and proper wife of 16 years get flirty with a "disgusting" old friend of ours from high school days.
In Front of my Very Eyes
Deborah said, "There’s no way Billy’s going to stay at the cottage with us for a couple of days. I don’t know what it is, but that man really bothers me.""I just don’t get it, Deb. He used to be a great friend, and he’s just going to hang with us for a while. We’ve got an extra bedroom in this cottage, after all."
"Look it. Billy’s got a reputation for all kinds of things. He’s probably still smoking dope, and who knows how many women he’s gotten into trouble."
"But you don’t know what he’s been like for the last five years, do you? Or the last ten? Besides, my memories seem to be different from yours."
"Yeah, well, you probably don’t know about Christine." Christine was Deborah’s best friend, and, true, I’d never heard the whole story. Billy had taken her out a couple of years ago. Three dates into the relationship, he took her home on a Friday night, got her stoned, had sex with her all weekend long, and then left.
"What’s the point, Deb? Did he give her a disease or something? Did he take advantage of her?"
"No – nothing like that. In fact...." I could tell that Deb didn’t really want to add this, but she couldn’t help herself. "In fact, Christine said that she’d had the best sex of her life.
Something about Billy’s... huge... energizer thing. Something about an orgasm every half hour — if you can believe that."
"Okay, okay. Just tell me what Billy did."
"He just walked out of her life."
"That’s all?"
"Whaddya mean, is that all? Here’s this little gigolo who swears he loves Christine, seduces her, makes love with her for three days and nights, and then he just abandons her. No letters, phone calls, e-mails – nothing. He took off to the north country for a couple of months, and came back with a different girlfriend. Introduced her to Chrissie at Joey’s Super Bowl party."
End of conversation. I knew when Deborah had reached boiling point, and wouldn’t be able to take an alternate point of view. My wife and I have been married for 16 years. That’s a long time, by today’s standards. Our sex life was okay, I guess, but nothing like I wanted it to be. Deborah didn’t like it if I got wild, or if wanted to use certain language, or to talk fantasies.
Actually, I think she really did want to get down and dirty, but marriages have a habit of following certain patterns, or certain story-lines. What I mean is.... Deborah and I started off as Christians — very fundamentalist. I mean we still are, though we don’t go to church nearly as often as we used to. Anyway, we believed in the ideal that short straightforward sex without using bad language was all a human body really ought to expect. Sometimes I’d be on top, and sometimes she’d be on top, and for a really wild variation we’d 69 for a little while before she insisted that I get back in the saddle for the quick but happy finish. Early on, I tried to give Deborah an orgasm with oral sex, but she felt it was immoral and disgusting somehow, and the same applied even to handjobs.
I was doubly frustrated, because Debbie has an amazing body. We’ve never been able to have kids (a sad story that I can’t get into), and she’s kept a well-toned, firm 37-25-35 into her late thirties. Lately, I think she’s been feeling a bit randier than she used to be, but, as I say, all those habits and story-lines from the early days of our marriage just won’t disappear.
We had just started a long weekend at our cottage at the north end of Lake Dyanice. Earlier that day, in the village corner store, I ran into an old high school friend. Billy Jones had just finished a job with a little logging outfit, and was about to hitch his way back to Minnesota-St. Paul. I talked him into staying with us for the weekend and getting a ride back to the big city on Monday. He just had a bunch of things to do in town, and then I was supposed to pick him up for supper.
Deborah was cool but hospitable. She didn’t like the idea that Billy the Perpetual Kid was going to be sleeping in a bed just one wall away from ours, and she obviously had problems with his general moral outlook. Then again, he did tell a lot of funny stories. Some of them were outrageous, some a little raunchy. I could tell that Debbie was half-disgusted, but also half-intrigued. When I offered her a third glass of wine, she just held out her glass. Normally, she stopped at exactly two, and would announce, rather proudly, that was her top limit. I accidentally filled her glass to the brim, and she didn’t mind that either, slurping an inch of the top to minimize chances of a spill.
Billy just kept telling his wild and crazy stories. A lot of them were about how all these tough guys in the woods were actually pretty afraid of black bears, especially at this time of year, in late fall. He said, "Some of these dudes say the thing you got to do is run away from ‘em at full tilt, and to throw one piece of clothing at a time. The bear stops to rip each piece of clothing to shreds, so you get away. No supper for that old bear, nosirree. Only one problem with this theory, though."
"What’s that?" I asked.
"Well a man without his clothes tends to freeze his balls off. So you got a choice – get ripped to shreds by that old bear or you die in the grip of Mother Nature."
Billy told us about some of the weekend adventures of the lumberjacks, too. Wild stuff. Some of it was actually a bit of a turn-on, including the story about the logger who made a bet with his foreman that he could seduce her in a single night at the Crazy Moose saloon. Or the one about the wife who had never known anyone but her husband, but got a job as a cook out in the deep bush, and then went a bit loony. She got the idea that she had to be wife to all of the lonely guys out there.
I was surprised to hear Debbie speak, and at the same time she was holding out her glass to me for a fourth hit of wine! She said, "Did you get really lonely out there, Billy?"
"Damn right I did. You get so lonesome and needy at times that you start praying to God to send a few angels of mercy."
Deborah said, "A few angels? Wouldn’t one be good enough?" My God – Debbie was actually flirting.
Billy laughed and said, "Yeah, yeah. One is about all a man would be happy with. But two – that would be seventh heaven."
I said, "I love that phrase. Seventh heaven. You know where it comes from?"
Billy laughed and said, "Omigod – here come old flat-top with his scholarly notes!"
"Okay, so I’m a teacher. Shoot me or something."
"Just tell us, for the love of mike."
I put on my lecturing tone, "That phrase comes from a meditation practice of the early Christians. A man and a woman would get completely naked, lie beside each other, and NOT have sex. Instead, they’d use the sexual tension to try to have a vision of God."
Debbie said, "That’s disgusting," but she laughed, and Billy said, suddenly and brashly, "Now that’s a very interesting idea. I propose that Debbie and I get totally naked some time tonight, and get close to God."
Debbie laughed an angry laugh, and said, "In your dreams, bozo."
"Why not?" Billy said. "You were always trying to get me into the Christian fellowship, weren’t you? This is the plan most likely to succeed."
We joked around for a while longer, and then Debbie excused herself to go to the bathroom. Billy used the interruption to pull out a long joint of marijuana, laced with a line of black tar that he said was the finest oil in Minnesota. He said, "I hope you don’t mind, man. I’ve been a regular with this crap since I was 18. In fact, I would be very happy if you joined me."
I thought about it, then said "Ah what the hell. I’m not driving anywhere." Besides, I thought, there weren’t any cops or school trustees out here to destroy my career, and I hadn’t had a toke since I was about 23 or 24, my last year of college.
I took a toke, and held it in my lungs as I used to do. Then I took a second toke, and started to feel a little green around the gills. I tried speaking, "Thisss iz good shure stuff, man. I mean, thiss shure is stuff. It’s good." Billy laughed and said, "One more, dude, and you’ll be riding the high north wind in a chariot of the gods all night long." At least that’s what I think he said, because two more tokes and about five minutes later, I was exactly on the border between consciousness and brain death. I was happy, but I couldn’t move.
So, I remembered, this is what I used to call "being stoned." I was almost out cold, eyes 90% shut, and I could hear my own breathing as a regular, light snore.
At that moment, Deborah came out of the bathroom in her nightrobe. Underneath would be her nightie, and underneath that her bra and panties. She said, "Is that marijuana? Billy! Trust you to pretend you’re still in high school!"
"Ah, come on Debbie. Why don’t you pretend with me? Your husband did." He looked at me and shouted, "Hey flat-top! Get a life! Join the party, dude!" All I could do was to breathe deeply, and steadily. I felt that if I tried to speak, or to move, that I would die of a heart attack or something. That my guts would try to crawl out my throat and roll out the front door.
Deborah said, "Poor guy! What have you done to my baby?" She got a blanket and covered me, but I wasn’t cold, and I didn’t really appreciate being jostled. Deborah sat back down in front of Billy, and I was surprised at what I saw – she’d let her robe fall completely open, but of course she was still covered by the nightie. I felt shameless myself. A bear could have walked into the room at that minute and raped me, and I wouldn’t have given a damn.
Billy got Deborah a fifth glass of wine, and put some music on. "Come on, Debbie. Time for a dance."
She said, "You gotta be kidding."
"Come on. Just a little one. You were always a great dancer."
"Right — I was a great dancer."
"Oh, come on. You know I’m talking the present tense. Come on."
"Only if you’re a gentleman." She joined him, leaving the night-robe on the floor. The song was "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" – 26 minutes long. I was mesmerized, and a little excited. I saw Billy’s hand start to move over Debbie’s back, stroking her through the thin cotton of the nightie. When he moved his hands close to her bottom, she said, very firmly, "Uh-uh, mister. Off limits." A couple of minutes later, he tried again, and she just reached behind her and put his hands a little higher.
I could see, though, that Billy was whispering things in her ear, and that she was listening to him. At one point, she stopped to take a slug out of her glass of wine, and then reached for Billy again. The next time he reached a little lower, she didn’t stop him, and the next thing he was lightly stroking the sides of her hips. I might have been mistaken, but it looked as if Debbie had started to press her hips into Billy’s thighs, and that her hands had started to move a little bit. She was ever so slightly circling from his back to his sides.
Then I could see that Billy’s cock was pushing at the front of his jeans, forming a bulge that Debbie obviously knew about. Maybe she just wanted the thrill of being naughty, and would rub against it with her navel, while pretending she was just dancing close.
Billy whispered something in her ear, and then they kissed briefly and lightly, but Deborah pushed her face back down into his shoulder. Billy whispered something again, and Deborah said, "No, of course not!" He said, loud enough for me to hear, "I love the taste of your lips. They’re perfect." He nipped her earlobes between his lips — that was one of Deborah’s biggest turn-ons. Suddenly, Billy reached for a kiss, and she kissed him back, a good long flirty smooch.
Deborah pulled back for a moment – I could see that it was the point of no return for her – and then she leaned hard back into another, long and smoldering kiss.
It was like I was watching a movie out of the corner of my eyes. I could barely keep them open, but I was excited. Yeah, of course, part of me felt like I ought to get up and knock Billy’s sleepy eyes back into his animal brain, but part of me wanted everything to go at least a little bit further.
Billy bunched Deborah’s nighie up till his hands got hold of the bottom rim, and he let his hands dangle along the outside of her thighs, swishing the cloth along the skin. Then — it was amazing — he moved his hands up under the nightie, stroking . Debbie stopped dancing for a second. She seemed shocked at first, a bit frightened, a bit angry. She tried to turn away, but Billy held her, and she let him turn her back to him.
They started dancing again, but now his hands were all over her back, her sides, her arms, but nowhere near her private parts. Debbie, in return, had lifted his shirt tails out of his jeans, and had her hands on the bare skin underneath. Billy leaned in for another, long, passionate kiss. Deborah looked as if she had turned into a swaying willow tree – she was half willow, trembling in the breeze of passion, and she was half river, heading for the edge of a cliff.
I could see both of Billy's hands working at Debbie’s bra hooks, and I thought I could see him drop the straps over her shoulders, but he delayed touching anything but her sides for a long minute. Debbie seemed to want him to go farther – she looked like she was in spasms of doubt.
Then Billy began to lightly fondle her beautiful, large, firm breasts. Debbie pulled back, "No! Billy – this isn’t right. I love my husband."
But her body wasn’t doing what her mind wanted it to do. She stood still for about two solid minutes, letting Billy caress her – and then she hooked her fingers into his shirt pockets. She let her fingers move to the top button, playing with it. She undid another three buttons, then let her hands fall to the button of his bluejeans. She unhooked it, then slowly pulled the zipper down.
Billy helped her to free his monstrous penis, about 9 inches and as thick as a wrist with a big purple plum fed by a skein of long, snaking blue veins. Debbie fell to her knees, gasped, grabbed his penis in her hands, and started to stroke it. As she dropped down, Billy lifted the nightie off her quivering body, taking the loose bra with it. He stood there, completely oblivious to the fact that I might be watching him through my dry, slightly parted eyelids. Or that I might have had my hardening cock in my hand, underneath my pants, and underneath my wife’s thoughtful blanket.
Then Deborah did the unthinkable. She took Billy’s cock in her mouth, and started sucking it. She was awkward at it, and why not – that was a lot of cock to deal with – but Billy didn’t seem to care whether he was being worshipped by an amateur or an old pro. He fell to the floor with her after a while. They kissed passionately, making love to each other’s mouths with their tongues, but nothing more than that.
Finally, Billy helped Deborah shimmy out of her panties. He positioned his giant cock at the gates of paradise... and he pushed in, slowly, but firmly. He got his plum-head in, but then suddenly withdrew it. "My God, Debbie," he said. "I’m sorry. I need to know if you really want me to do this."
She said, softly, "Please."
Billy said, perhaps a bit cruelly, "Please? I don’t understand."
"Oh for God’s sake, Billy."
"No, Deb. I’m serious. I need you to tell me."
"Okay. I want you."
"What do you want me for?"
"I want you to make love to me."
"Yeah, alright. That’s what I want too. I want to fuck you, Debbie. I want to suck every inch of your incredible body. I want to make you come in every inch of your body. You are sooo goddam unbelievable sexy."
Then, at last, he slowly fed the serpent into its warm home. When the pelvic ridge just above his cock made contact with Deborah’s clitoris, she whispered hoarsely, "Yes. Please fuck me."
As soon as she said that, she began to buck violently. It lasted about half a minute, and that seemed to drive Billy crazy, because he started to piston in and out of her beautiful body with a kind of venging fury, and just as I could see him start to convulse, releasing his hot spunk into my uptight wife’s cave of Venus, she began to come a second time, shouting "Yessss! That’s so good! Fuck me, Billy Jones – fuck me hard."
As she began to wind down, Billy slipped out of her, but kept caressing her cheeks, her shoulders, her breasts.
Debbie fell asleep for about ten minutes, I think. Then she woke with a start: "What’s happening? What did I just...? Oh God. Billy... did he... do you think Jesse saw us?" She reached for her nightrobe, and covered up tightly. Billy pulled a comforter across his waist.
Billy looked at my dazed eyes and said, "Honestly Deb? Not a chance."
"I can’t believe... I can’t believe I’d do this to him."
"Look, if he did see us, he would have said something."
"What happened just now, Billy? I don’t understand."
"Hey – I don’t usually explain things, okay? We just got blown away. Jesse there got blown away by a couple of tokes, and we just got blown away."
"Jesse doesn’t... I mean, I don’t get it. I didn’t think he did stuff like this."
"He told me it’s been 16 years, something like that. Honest, I don’t understand. He could smoke with the best of us when he was a kid. Tonight? Three or four tokes, and he’s shit-faced." Billy added, "Listen babe, I think you could do with another one."
Deborah looked up sharply, afraid. "You’ve got to be kidding!"
Billy laughed: "No, no – I’m offering you another drink. A good stiff one, okay?"
Deborah tried to suppress a smirk, but Billy’s choice of words got the better of her. She laughed – the way a person laughs when they’re not supposed to, like the way kids laugh when the pastor reads the word "ass" during the Bible lesson, or when a person start giggling at a funeral. Billy said, "What’s so goddam funny?"
Deborah leaned on Billy for support. The couch blanket fell to the side, uncovering Billy’s long, slack penis. Deborah went silent, mesmerized. She reached out to touch it with her fingertips, and it sprang to hard life against her palm. Billy gasped, "Omigod, baby, that feels good."
Debbie said, "I can’t believe this. It’s like I’m ... like I’m in hell, but.... I want to get deeper."
Billy leaned down to her thighs, and started lightly stroking them over the cloth, and kissing her hair. Debbie said, "No, Billy, stop it. Once was enough. I can’t do this to Jesse."
Billy didn’t stop. He kissed her shoulders, and loosened her robe. I could see Debbie’s entire body tremble, but she kept saying, "Billy. Seriously, I can’t. We have to be decent. I’m sorry I led you on." Billy nuzzled her earlobes and neck, and reached his hands under the robe. His lips soon followed to those amazing breasts, and he found the centres of her pleasure with his tongue and teeth, and played there for a minute or two in the fields of the Lord.
He pushed open her robe, and rained light kisses on her navel, the tops of her thighs, the quivering grass of her soft wet mound. Then he swept that raspy tongue up her navel, across her right breast and its hard chocolate nipple thrusting out half an inch, aching for a more violent suck, and then touched the moisture of sex from his lips to Debbie’s, and she threw her long legs around Billy’s waist.
She said, "Yes! Yes. One more time. I want you to... really... fffuck me. Just one more. Please fuck me..." I could see that Debbie came hard right after Billy pushed that giant plum-head into her quivering ladyship. She had another soon after, I think, and a third magnificent rolling but violently twitching orgasm came about ten minutes later as Billy once again drove his long thick penis into my wanton wife’s vagina.
This time, Debbie came out of it just a bit more sober than the last time. She felt I’d "wake up" at any minute, so she hurriedly put on her nightie, gave Billy a kiss, and asked him to get dressed.
"Uh uh, baby," he said with a smile. "That’s not the way God planned it."
"What do you mean?" she said.
"You are coming with me into the bedroom. Your lawful husband there has got at least another two hours of unconsciousness in him."
"Billy, no." He took her by the waist. She said again, "No, this isn’t right." But she walked on shaky legs with him to the guest bedroom.
At long last, I was able to heave myself out of the chair. I tiptoed to the kitchen, and quietly ran some cold water into my cupped hands, splashed it on my face, and drank as much as my parched lips and throat would let me swallow. I could hear the moans and rhythms of pleasure from the guest bedroom. I carried my hundred-pound head to my own room, and lay down quietly. A couple of minutes later, I risked getting up, because I wanted to see what was going on.
There was about a foot of space between the ceiling and the top of the dividing wall. I was just tall enough to do this -- by standing on the bed, I could peer over the divide into Billy’s room. They were making enough noise that I didn’t even have to be as quiet as I was.
What an incredible scene. Deborah was riding Billy this time, sitting up, her hands pinching his nipples. His hands were all over her gorgeous breasts, rolling the nipples, pinching them hard, and Debbie was saying, "Harder! Now suck them! Suck me hard!" I somehow knew that Deborah was reaching her limit. It was almost as if she was flogging the sex monster with the dirty words that she had never let herself use before. The monster had lain dormant for a long time. She’d let it out of its cave, with Billy’s help, and now it was like she was trying to beat it to death.
Deborah had already set a few all time records by making love for more than an hour, and by having at least four and possibly five or six orgasms. Sure, I was a bit jealous. I seem to recall that she’d had about three orgasms one day during our honeymoon, but that was over a 16 hour period.
I crept back into the living room, feeling mischievous. I wanted to give the impression that I hadn’t seen anything.
I stretched out on the couch in the strangest bliss I had ever experienced. What I remember most about that pleasure was Deborah’s release into the royalty of orgiastic delight. I also remember thinking about the pleasure I would take tomorrow from Billy and Deborah’s attempts to disguise their behaviour. Or to confess it. And I had no idea where any of this would really lead, either for the rest of the weekend, or for the coming years, but I had the power of knowledge over them, and I would hoard that for a while till I thought of a wise thing to do with it.
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