SwingLifeStyle.com
Create a Free Swingers Account today!

Free Erotic Stories

SwingLifeStyle Free Erotic Stories are written and submitted by our members Sit back and enjoy "My Names Brett".


Become a Free Member - Submit a Story
 

My Names Brett

My name’s Brett. Five years ago my wife Milley and I moved from coastal Maine to a very small and rural Vermont town in what is known as the Northeast Kingdom, a three county part of the state known for its high moose population, its low human population and its intense winters. We have both always been outdoors people and found we loved the place, at first for its outdoor recreation opportunities and later for its people.
Mil and I are both forty and unable to have kids. Now that we are feeling pretty settled we have started the adoption application and search process, which anyone who has done it can tell you is a long and involved deal. Meanwhile we each get our kid fixes through our jobs. Milley, short for Millicent, is a teacher / coach and I am a coach / teacher. That is, Mil is an inspired teacher (former Maine Science Teacher of the Year) who played basketball in college and therefore knows more about basketball coaching than any of the other female faculty at our tiny school. The previous girls’ roundball coach was dismissed for allegedly ‘having relations’ with one of his players, with whom he later lived in Burlington. Milley took the coaching job more as a way to insinuate herself into the life of the town, which revolves around the school and it’s sports teams, than as a result of any passion for coaching. Her real passion is teaching Biology and Physics. The school board, still stinging from the abundant critical fallout from the previous coach’s likely wrongdoing, required the next girls’ coach be female. That, combined with the low pay affordable by the strapped school, left the team uncoached until Mil offered to take it on.
I, on the other hand, really LOVE to coach, especially basketball. A devastating knee injury early in my college playing career ended any hopes I had for post college ball and effectively took any chance of a serious career in big time coaching with it. At first I was pretty upset by the idea that I would never coach the Tar Heels or Jayhawks but once I started coaching high school guys I found it so rewarding (and fun, quite honestly) that I let the other stuff go without much fuss. I teach history and some low level math at the same very small high school as my lovely wife (we graduate about twenty kids per year – and it’s a public school!).
Our teams have traditionally been middle of the pack at best, due to the fact that we are almost always playing teams from schools twice or three times the size of ours. The boys’ team has been holding it’s own the last couple of years, partly because our schemes are good and our guys play smart. That said, we don’t scare anybody too much. Mil’s teams have not fared as well. One thing I will say for our players and our town is that these kids are really decent people. Not angels, just not jerks.
One evening, just after the boys’ practice and just before the girls’, Milley had her squad doing a shoot around for warmup while the guys, finished with their showers, were coming out of the locker room with the usual banter. Andy, our point guard and a universally liked guy, ambled up to where Mil was working on foul shooting with Andy’s girlfriend Jess, absentmindedly dribbling a ball, as he always did.
“Andy, could you stop that please, I’m trying to help Jess with her foot placement.”
“Just watching, Mrs. Coach,” he replied with his usual winning smile. One of the coolest things about Andy was that he was pretty much always smiling. He came from a big family with three sisters and four brothers, all pretty good kids.
“Yeah, well watch from over there,” Mill replied, her lips pursed into a smile, “I need Jess’s full attention”
Andy’s palms up, mouth-open look of surprise and innocence went nowhere.
Milley laughed “If I am ever ref-ing one of your games and I see you with that look, I’m calling a foul even if I didn’t see it.”
They all laughed. Andy walked off to the water fountain, rolling his eyes toward heaven, then closing them, obviously thinking – or imagining something. It wasn’t lost on me. I have become used to it, even sort of like it. Let me explain;
Millicent is, and this is not an exaggeration, the prettiest woman I have ever known or even met. Her face is . . . well, think Donna Reed in “It’s a Wonderful Life”. If Sharon Stone’s face makes you want to go to bed with her, then Milley’s and Donna Reed’s faces make you want to marry them and kiss them. As with really pretty women, when Milley smiles her special smile, it is truly a knee buckling experience. While not conceited or self centered, she would have had to be either blind or stupid not to have some idea of the effect she has on guys and she is neither.
For some reason, voluptuous beauty is often associated with provocative behavior while prettiness is thought of as a sign of innocence, and while my wife is certainly no slut, she does sometimes surprise people with an occasional cuss or by laughing at the odd dirty joke. No demographic group is more susceptible to her charms than high school aged boys, some of whom actually blush when she smiles at them. She would deny this, but you will never convince me that she doesn’t get a bit of a kick from that sort of thing. She has mastered the art of the ‘chaste flirtation’. Knowing that their age difference and status protects her from ever being taken seriously, she will occasionally say or do something just provocative enough to leave one of them wondering if they saw or heard her right, she knowing full well that the unfortunate (?) lad will probably be sporting a woody for a while. They know that nothing will come of her comment or look, but can’t help but imagining “what if. . .”. I know that and I also imagine “What if. . .”
While she does have a smile and face that can frost your shorts, Milley does not have a bombshell shape, rather having a slim, athletic form. What very few people know, however, about Mil’s body is that the tips of her b / c sized breasts are the sexiest things on Earth. Her nipples are the softest color pink and are unusually sensitive, readily swelling to full erection, sometimes just from a look or comment. More erotic even than the incredibly soft and tender quality of her nipples, however, is the fact that her areolas, when excited, become puffy, so that when Milley gets aroused the whole tip ends of her breasts become swollen, not just the nipple tip. And when she really becomes aroused her breasts blush, sometimes all the way up her neckline to her face. Usually that is not long before her orgasms, which seem to transport my lovely wife into a trancelike state, complete with deep, fervent moans, which seem to start in her intestines and come out with or without her intention.
Because Milley is usually pretty conservative in her behavior and dress, and because she is of course aware of the abnormally visual nature of her nipple erections, she almost always wears a bra and clothing that is not particularly revealing or suggestive. That clothing choice is, of course, reinforced by the nature of her position as very small town teacher / coach. The only exceptions to the conservative, ultra casual dress tendency are when we are away from our small town sufficiently far to ensure that we will not run into a student or one of their family members. On the occasions when she does wear her surprisingly skimpy bikini, or one of her few sheer, revealing dresses or when she goes braless, I can count on two things. One, the reaction of one or more men will be hilariously obvious and two, I will get some very hot sex that night. On those occasions I usually wait until I can see her telltale ‘breast blush’, signifying her intense arousal, and then subtly tease about the nipple slips of the day and the penises being touched by the owners of those memories, even at that very moment. Without fail that brings my pretty wife to a most unladylike orgasm.
Once, after several glasses of wine, alone together in the guest room of some friends’ home at which we were staying over, she confessed to me that when she was eighteen her older brother Max and two of his friends had unintentionally and unexpectedly walked in on her as she was coming out of their bathroom naked, having just showered and thinking she was home alone. Later that afternoon she had heard her name spoken through the closed bathroom door and had listened from the other side only to realize that Max’s friend Pete was masturbating to his memory of her earlier humiliated nude dash across the hall to her room. As she told me the story I couldn’t help but notice the blush, and when I unbuttoned her pajama top and touched her breast tips softly, as one might touch a newborn babies head, she had come so loudly that I was sure our friends had heard. I expect that incident may have been responsible for her rare but unmistakable erotic response to occasionally, semi-unintentionally providing eye candy for other men, especially young ones.
Back to the gym. After that day’s girls’ practice, while the girls were in their locker room, Andy and Jason, a big farm raised kid with minimal skills or coordination (known in basketball parlance as a space eater), were lazily shooting hoops waiting no doubt for Jen to emerge before leaving. Mil and I were gathering balls and net vests from the bleachers and floor and happened to overhear a good natured ribbing between Jason, Andy, Jen (who had emerged) and two of her friends, concerning which team would be doing better this year.
Jason, preposterously, had suggested that the boy’s team would certainly be going to The Aud, a large auditorium down in Barre where the D 3 and D4 semi’s and state final championship games were played annually, and further that they might well even win it all. Jen and her friends predictably howled with derision and Jen said that if the boys won the state, that she would hand out the towels in the boys’ shower room after the game. When Andy said, “hey wait a minute”, Jen looked at him in a way that said, “Don’t worry, Andy, really.” Both Jen and Andy, despite the astronomical unliklihood of such an occurrence, felt painted into a corner. Just then, more to ease the potentially awkward situation than anything, Milley spoke up.
“Guys, if YOU win the states I will hand out the damn towels!”
For a couple of seconds no one said a word, and then simultaneously the girls hooted at the boys for the obvious put down, Jason heaved a basketball almost the length of the court and screamed “YES!”, Andy had to walk away shaking his head (and no doubt blushing, rolling his eyes and laughing) and Milley and I just grinned at the whole scene. That night Mil and I chuckled over the guys’ reaction, joked about how many commas would be in number representing the odds of it really happening and then well and truly fucked each other until late in the night.
Well, a week and a half later the season started. Milley’s girls won their first two, then lost their third. The guys predictably beat Craftsbury, lost to Cabot, somehow beat Twinfield, usually pretty strong but missing four starters, due to a party and resulting suspensions for drinking, got smoked by yet another good Danville team. . . . the usual. Then came the bomb. A family, originally from Lithuania, whose mother was a bigwig attorney for The Nature Conservancy and who had asked to be put in charge of a large Northern Forests project with an office in Montpelier, the state capitol only fifteen minutes away and whose father was a self employed consultant who worked mostly by modem and frequent flyer miles moved into town from the D.C. area with their twin 18 year old sons. In itself, that would have been of only passing interest to me, but the fact that Micha and Dorra, the boys, were 6’ 10 and 6’ 8 and good enough ball players to have started on any high school basketball team I’ve ever seen. As you might imagine, that changed a lot of things.
Micha and Dorra, of course, felt they had gone to hell but their folks were very old school and demanded an obedience uncommon in this day and age. Our teacher to pupil ratio of nine to one and our recognition as a superior academic school, as well as the parents’ desire to fit in to our community, convinced them that their sons were better off at our school and in our town with its truly sensational quality of life, especially as compared with the dangerous urban area they had just left. Also, the family had lived rurally in Lithuania.
Needless to say, once Micha and Dorra learned our system and once I learned how to adjust our system to their abilities, the two monster players turned our already respectable team into a virtually unbeatable juggernaut, by Vermont D-IV standards. The result was that we did make The Aud and were heavily favored in the championship game.
The day before the finals, everyone was really nerved up. I mean the whole town was buzzing. There was a big pep rally with most of the townspeople there, after which I had a team meeting, mostly to show the team a confidence I really did have, despite some major nerves. After the meeting, Milley and I were in my office, just off the gym, when we heard some kids talking. Jason’s voice could be heard teasing Jen about needing to “hand out the towels”. At that I could see Milley blanch, obviously remembering her own mocking involvment. As she sat there, anticipating the worst from our overheard conversation, here it came.
“Hey, HEY!”, objected Andy, “that was never finalized!”
“What? She said she’d do it if we won,” laughed Jason.
“She started to,” Andy countered, “But then. . . . “
A silence ensued which could have been cut with a dull knife, during which I’m sure Andy, Jason and Jen all remembered Mil’s insincere offer and their proximity to my office, unsure of whether I was in it. Also during that silence I watched as Milley, realizing the worst, rolled her eyes. She did not look at me during any of this, and a moment later I could have sworn I could detect a difference in her breathing as she stared through the office wall, only eventually remembering to close her mouth.
“Imagine that,” I teased. “I’m pretty sure Andy is.”
“AND Jason,” she replied, flipping me off with a rueful smile.
“Not to mention Micha,” I chuckled. “You know you’re not really gonna do it. Those guys would die.”
“ANDY!!!!, You shit!” screamed Jen. “LOOK at him!” Jason could be heard in the background cackling. I half expected I knew what they were looking at.

Game day was, of course, intense. Despite my resolution to appear calm in front of the team I was nervous as hell. There was no doubt we had the best team, but it’s not like Danville was a bunch of chumps. All it would take is some foul trouble for Micha, who, as a big guy tended to get a lot of calls against him, maybe an injury to Andy, our only functional point guard, some nerves, who knows?
Almost prophetically Micha did foul out with ten minutes to go and Andy did catch a wicked elbow just below the eye, causing him to sit for several minutes while we stopped the blood,which made the whole town’s collective heart stop for a bit. Things got wild in the game and it came down to a missed half court shot at the buzzer that was stomach-wrenchingly close to winning it for Danville. But we won!!! We, the team, the town, the coaches were delirious. The other players wept, heads covered with towels. It was intense! Everybody hugged everybody. Micha hugged Andy, Jason hugged Jen, Dorra hugged his folks, Micha hugged Dorra, Jen and Andy were practically making out, I hugged Milley, who gave me a shameless snog on the court, it went on and on. Eventually, when the teams had congratulated one another and the trophies were handed out and displayed I called the team together for a meeting in the locker room of the Aud.
Of course I told them how proud I was of them as players and young men, how teamwork this and dedication that, all of which could not have been more sincere. Then I asked the senior boys to stay for a seniors only meeting so we could have a last little talk. I was unprepared for some of what came out, with Micha and Dorra proclaiming that they would not have given up their Vermont experience for anything, Jason cried, Andy, whose eye was swelling pretty badly, had prepared a little message from the team (his words, I’ll bet) for me which almost choked me up. Then, to lighten things up I said “Hey, you guys smell like shit! Hit the showers.”
Thus released from the uncomfortable emotions we had shared, everybody, myself included, headed for the showers amidst the predictable noise and laughing and slapping. I was almost done showering when I felt, more than heard, a shocked silence cover the shower room. Following their gazes I looked out into the tiled area adjacent to the showers and damn near shit the pants I didn’t have on. Next to a stack of towels, in jeans and a white cotton tee shirt and an indescribably gorgeous, wide, knee buckling smile was my wife, Milley, the prettiest woman anyone has ever seen.
“What? Did you think I’d jink out? You guys are AWESOME!,” said Mil, barely able to keep from laughing at the five of us standing there nude with identically dropped jaws. She later told me our eyes were bigger than our dicks, which was funny to hear, if unsettling on multiple levels.
I realized I had to do something, so I walked out dripping wet, took the towel she offered me and gave her a huge, LONG bear hug, utterly soaking her tee shirt and jeans and informing me that OH My God she was braless. “you bastard,” she chuckled in my ear.
There was no way I was going to miss this, as one by one, Andy first, the guys came out of the shower, penises puffy, testicles jiggling staring with shining eyes at Milley’s lovely tits and astoundingly puffy nipples which were on display through her soaked tee, and each gave her a long hug while she whispered congratulations to each. For her part, Milley looked right at them, dicks and all as they approached, with a smile that was equal parts embarrassed, conspiratorial and excited. Andy even circled back for a second towel, which, to my amazement, Mil let him have, interrupting the second prolonged hug, or rather, without interrupting that hug, with their faces too close, and examining his swollen eye.
Andy and Milley were both blushing and grinning furiously, Micha and Dorra had to leave the room, Jason actually moaned and Andy had a boner that looked like a rocket, on which Milley hung the towel. I realized I’d better get to the office provided for me or my team was going to see me ejaculate watching my wife with my naked point guard.
I sat in my provided office, thankful for its desk, still trying to take it all in, when several shouts, a shriek, much loud laughing (some of it female) and footsteps made me hurry back out into the locker room. As I approached the showers, I heard Milley’s laughing protests “hey, hey you guys, hey, HEY!!!” The last Hey sounded somewhat serious At that, all the noise stopped and as I rounded the corner to the tiled ‘towel’ room I could see my wife, obviously having been under the showers, her hair soaked, her tee shirt utterly useless, her boobs, nipples and areolas as swollen as it is possible to be, the blush redder than I have ever seen it, coming toward me, dripping wet. In the shower were Jason, Andy and Dorra, all simultaneously trying to turn away from me, their erections wagging obscenely in front of them, while all were still partly trying to watch Milley walk away.
Milley’s pleading eyes saw me about to light into the boys and as she reached me, with an urgent look on her flushed face, said simply, “Come with me. . . . . please!’
Casting a warning look at the guys, I put a towel around her and led her to my borrowed office, where we just stared at one another. “Can I tell you in a little while?” she asked, alluding to the obvious question hanging in the room like a chandelier in a goat barn. “I guess I need some different clothes.”
I quickly looked around the unfamiliar office for something for Milley to put on, finding only a pair of sweat pants and a basketball jersey with the number four. Whosever jersey I’d found must have been a frontcourt man, as it was huge on my wife, while the sweats could almost not be drawn tightly enough to stay on her hips and had to be rolled up, despite their elastic cuffs.
You can probably imagine what small percentage of Mil’s breasts was actually covered by the ridiculously oversized tank style jersey. The arm holes reached more that halfway to her waist and were wide enough that she probably could have crawled through one of them, showing the sides and bottom sides of her breasts all the way over to the edge of her swollen areolas, the neck area, at its lowest point in the center, was even with the bottoms of her breasts. About the only part of her chest not showing was a couple of inch-and-a-half wide strips covered precariously by the shoulder straps. We noticed simultaneously that the jersey did more to enhance her exposure than to cover it.
At that moment there was a knock on the door.
Mil and I looked at each other with wide eyes, mine wide with a question and hers with concern.
“Coach?” It was Andy’s voice. “Coach? Can we talk?”
“Yeah, uh, just a minute.” Milley’s eyes were casting about desperately for better cover. “Just a sec.,” I almost shouted as I heard the doorknob being touched. I quickly tossed Milley my sport jacket which was dr*ped over my chair, and which she put on quickly, exposing both tits as she did it.
“Okay, come on in.” The door opened immediately. I made sure to stay seated at my desk in order to hide my tented towel.
Andy, Jason and Dorra entered, looking very nervous and guilty. I decided to let them proceed, as I was unsure of what to do or say. While Jason and Dorra looked merely embarrassed, Andy’s look was almost that of anguish.
He, of course, spoke first. “Uh . . . . .,” He paused for such a long time that I wondered if that was it, all he would be able to say. I actually felt sorry for him. “Uh,” he repeated and then continued, “Uh, I guess we got a little out of hand out there,” the other two boys nodded and muttered their agreement. I, being the only one in the room who hadn’t been ‘out there’ said nothing, just raising my eyebrows and looking serious.
Andy continued, “yeh, uh, well, we want to apologize if anything, y’know, got taken wro. . .” This last was delivered to Milley, causing us all to turn her way and causing us all to realize why he had swallowed before the word was completed. My jacket was almost as much too big for Mil as was the jersey and mostly managed only to frame the erotic view I had had just before the knock. Milley, afraid to try the slightest movement lest her nipples slip out from under the straps of the jersey and unaware that, despite her efforts, her right breast was almost completely showing, including a third of her stunning puffy areola, though not the actual nipple, was sitting on a plastic chair with an odd look on her face. Her breathing was a bit forced.
When it occurred to me that no one was going to say anything, and also to draw some of the attention away from my wife’s boob, I said “Guys, look, you just won the STATE CHAMPIONSHIP! Let’s just focus on that for the time being, eh?”
That broke the embarrassed tension and wrenched the three teamates’ gazes away from Milley. There were smiles all around and the mood returned to one of celebration. “Now get the hell out of here so my wife and I can finish getting dressed. Speaking of which, Mil, where’s your coat?”
“It’s still in the gym, I hope,” she replied, “right behind the bench. Would one of you boys – excuse me – champions be willing to get it for me?” She asked this with one of her patented knee-bucklers.
I thought they would injure themselves trying to fit through the door simultaneously. At once, it seems, they realized they were still in their towels and I realized that, my attention being so centered on Milley and her near topless predicament, I had been unaware of the three swollen dicks they had been sporting just under those towels six feet from her. That might have explained her odd look, and strange breathing of a minute ago, as well as her silent non-response to Andy’s truncated apology.
I knew that I needed to let Mil tell me whatever it was she had to say about ‘out there’ in her own time, so I proceeded to get dressed. When I got to putting on my shirt, I considered giving it to her so she would be less exposed, but then decided that her coat would be cover enough and that I needed my shirt for myself, as I had come to the game in just my sport jacket and no coat, crazy for winter in northern Vermont, and March is very definitely winter there.
A few minutes later, Jason brought Mil’s coat to the office and she thanked him sweetly, though when he waited, no doubt to see if she would take off my jacket (which she was now clutching closed with one hand) in order to don the coat, she gave him a smile that said “nice try”, waiting for him to leave before making the switch.
As I was to ride the bus back to our town and the party no doubt waiting for us at the gym and as Mil had driven our car to the game, we arranged that she would swing home, change into something less comfortable, as it were, and meet us at the school.
The bus ride home was as you would expect. Spirits were through the roof, as was the volume. Rick, my assistant, and I rode in the front of the bus, allowing language and horseplay that we ordinarily would not. The last missed shot which could have sunk us was relived from each and every perspective, Micha’s monster jam to end the first half was rapidly becoming legendary. Andy’s eye was a discoloration of honor in a blissful face.
Our fans, who included, I swear, two thirds of the town’s population, had beat us home and set up an impromptu party in the gym and our entrance was greeted with the kind of welcome usually reserved for war heroes. It was, actually, a touching experience, as the guys could not and did not miss the fact that when they went off into the big world they would do so with the dreams and best wishes of the small community who had watched them and helped them grow up from little kids. Neither was that lost on Micha’s and Dorra’s folks, who, I could see, felt vindicated in their decision to yank their boys out of the big down country school where they would have received more exposure to the better basketball colleges.
Milley’s team had put together a little dance routine for the boys, which was pretty suggestive, certainly for our rural town, though it got quite the ovation, due to everyone’s high spirits. After the dance, they all came over to me and playfully crowded around, pretending to seduce me with exaggerated looks and sounds and facial touching, much to everyone’s amusement, drawing an inevitable protest from my wife, who was laughing hardest of all.
As it turned out, that protest was the reason for the whole joke, because, at a signal from Jen, they all ran to a nearby table and each grabbed a pre-placed towel and dr*ped it over her. Mil turned deep red, her jaw on her chest, and, when I looked at the guys, some of whom had the same expression as Milley and some, the underclassmen, just looked confused, I saw Jason absolutely cracking up. Now I knew that he had evidently mentioned at least some of the shower room events to Jen when he went to fetch Milley’s coat. Jason and I would have a chat, as soon as possible, I concluded.
The party lasted till about dark, after which Millicent and I went to dinner at a restaurant in St. Johnsbury where we could finally have a quiet time to ourselves. I was determined to let Milley tell me what had transpired back at the Aud’s shower room in her own time. Our conversation, therefore, was more about how drained we were from the day, how amazing the game had been and how badly we felt for the opposing players and their families. Mil said she knew just how they felt, as her brother’s football team had lost the state D2 championship game in Maine his junior year. Then she got a strange look on her face, as though deep in thought, and remained silent for a long time. At the end of that pause, during which she seemed to have forgotten completely that I was even at the table with her, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “They felt my tits.”
I was surprised, of course, by what she had said, but even more surprised by the immediate, crystal clear image that formed in my mind of a hand squeezing Milley’s breast through her soaked tee while she laughed “hey!” Most of all I was surprised by the lurch caused in my stomach by the sheer eroticism of that image and of her words.
“Who?”
Mil looked away for a second or two, apparently torn between wanting to discontinue the conversation and realizing that now she could hardly do that. When she looked back into my eyes there was a mixture of emotions I found hard to identify, but which included concern bordering on fear or apology. “Pete.”
“Pete?” I echoed, “Pete WHO?” I had suspected Jason or Dorra or maybe even Andy. Or all three. “Who the hell is Pete? . . . . And who else? You said ‘they’.”
She looked at me like I was the crazy one. Then, her face blushing a deep red as she said it, “Pete and Max.” I thought she would cry.
“Pete and Max?” I repeated. I was beginning to feel like a parrot. “Like as in Max your . . . “ I stopped just too late, afraid to suggest that her brother had felt Milley up, but doing it anyway. I just didn’t know any other Maxes. I could see by her look of mortification that it had been, in fact, her brother and his buddy Pete. I was utterly gobsmacked, not to mention confused.
“Can we leave?” Milley suddenly stood up and put on her coat to go. It was obviously not the time or rather not the place to continue this conversation and so for the third time that day I found myself imagining my picture pretty wife getting her gorgeous breasts felt by others (plural) and for the second time having to wait to hear the rest of the story.
When we reached the car, Millicent asked me to listen to everything she had to say before commenting, as it would be difficult for her to tell her story. Of course I agreed.
“Do you remember that time at Art and Emily’s when I told you about the time that Max and Pete and Gordy all caught me coming out of the bathroom nude?” I nodded. “Well, do you remember how I told you that I overheard Pete, you know, getting off in the bathroom and how he was saying my name? Again I nodded. Here Milley paused. . . “that wasn’t all. Could you drive? This is kind of weird with you looking at me.” I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Well, it wasn’t really like I just overheard my name and scooted away. I actually went out in the hall in just my robe, hoping Pete or Gordy would accidentally see me when it fell open.” I could sense her looking at me. “I wanted them to see my boobs.” I knew she was watching for my reaction, which I kept to a minimum, watching my driving and listening. “In fact, Pete did just that on his way to the bathroom, which is probably why he was jerking off in there and saying my name. And I didn’t just happen to hear him. I was listening at the door.” Another pause, another look. “And I wasn’t just listening, either. I was touching myself, my nipples. I was so turned on that I didn’t hear Max coming up the hallway until he was right next to me. ‘Jesus CHRIST’, he said, ‘What the hell. . . ?’ I sort of screamed because I was so shocked and because I was humiliated. I heard Pete mutter something like he thought he’d been caught masturbating and he flushed the toilet real quick. When Pete opened the door –it seemed like immediately- and saw my robe wide open, I pushed Max aside and ran into my bedroom.”
After a short pause I asked, “Is there more?”, not sure if the story was complete.
“Oh, yeah.” Mil took a deep breath and continued. “A couple of days later, after school, I was in the kitchen before mom got home from her library job. I was getting some cookie batter together when Max and Pete came in, looking through the fridge. I’m pretty sure they’d been smoking pot. I didn’t want to look at them because it was the first time I’d seen Pete since the bathroom episode, but Max asked me what I was doing. I told him I was making goodies. ‘Let’s see ‘um’ said Pete. I told him they weren’t ready and he responded that they sure looked ready the other day, which cracked up Max. I’m pretty sure I blushed. ‘Yeah, said Max, let’s see ‘um’ and they laughed like the stoners they were. I called them assholes and told them they’d better not tell anyone about it. That was funny, too. “
“Then Max said I should show Pete what he’d missed and I replied that he hadn’t missed anything, in fact he’d seen them twice, unless I missed my guess. ‘Yeah, replied Max but not the part where you were pulling on your puffies, listening at the door’.” That made me cry from embarrassment, partly because now Pete knew I’d been spying and partly because he was describing my nipples to Pete, who was right there looking at me. Pete was pretty nice about it, though and told me that I should be proud of being so pretty and that he wouldn’t tell anyone at school, which horrified me more since I hadn’t even thought of that. ‘In fact,’ Pete said, ‘ I think you are the sexiest girl around.
“I was still pretty shook up but feeling a little better when Max said, “How about it?’
‘How about wh . . . NO!’ I said, ‘why should I? Beside, you guys said you wouldn’t tell anyone.’ “
“ ‘Pete did, not me. I’ll tell all sorts of people. Mom and Dad first and . . . ‘ “
“ ‘YOU FUCK!,’ I screamed at him, feeling panicky and trapped. ‘Don’t do that, please.’ “
“ ‘Lose the shirt, Mil,’ Max told me, ‘it’s not that big a deal. Just let us look at them for a minute or two, maybe touch them to make them swell up and Pete will get to see what the fuss is about. Besides, it’s not like we don’t know you get a little turned on by it, right?’ “
“Pete said, ‘I’d hate for you to think of me as a jerk, so if you’ll hate me forever it’s not worth it, but it would truly be a treat if you do.’ ”
“I was really confused and upset by then, it was like good cop bad cop. Finally I said ‘All right. But only Pete. He was nicer than you were, Max, you asshole. You have to leave the room.’ ”
“ ‘I’m not goin’ anywhere, what with these cookies being done. I’ll take them out of the oven while you take Pete into the bathroom and let him see your boobs.’ ”
“So I led Pete into the bathroom. I won’t lie, I was feeling a little excited myself by the idea by then. When we got in there I took off my shirt, I had no bra on, and just stood there showing my nipples to my brother’s friend, my arms at my side. I never saw anyone so happy, I think. He looked so cute, just staring and swallowing and smiling. He looked at me with a look of gratitude and lust and concern that made me actually smile. He gave me a questioning, pleading look and nodded his head towards my breasts. I knew what he wanted, so I started touching my nipples like I do, you know, very lightly with just the tip of one finger, which made me almost faint. Pete was so nice, he caught me as I started to sway and helped me sit down on the side of the tub and gave me my shirt to put back on.”
She paused at this point, and just when I was thinking about asking some questions she resumed. “After that sometimes when Pete was over and he and Max were high they would come in my room and I would have to show them. I know,” she said before I could respond, “I know I didn’t really have to, but it seemed like I had crossed some line when I went in the bathroom with Pete, sort of at Max’s directions. Plus, I guess, it was pretty erotic, just showing my tits while they stared. . . .” here she seemed to be reliving those afternoons .”. . . . Plus, sometimes I smoked a little with them. That’s when I let them feel them. Oh God, Brett, to this day I feel like I’m gonna lose it when I think of them both touching my nipples and squeezing my tits and pulling on them and. . . .oh fuck.” She sounded like maybe she was coming as she spoke, though I couldn’t tell for sure.
I drove along in quiet astonishment, as my wife revealed to me a part of her past that I had never imagined and as she seemed to become almost a different person in the telling. While, as I said, Milley is no prude, she certainly didn’t act like this except once in a great while in bed, and then only after considerable teasing and foreplay. She was always in control, often having to behave cooler than she might, lest some guy get the wrong impression as he gawked. I now saw her as a teenager, not at all in control, letting her brother and his friend ‘make her’ expose herself to their scrutiny and even their fondling and touching.
“AND SOMETIMES THEY SQUIRTED ON MY BREASTS! ! !” Milley almost shouted, as though that statement was the culmination of a long, difficult process of purgation, an emotional cathartic admission, combined, incredibly enough with a gut wrenching orgasm, which she was certainly having right there in the seat next to me. I looked over to see my beautiful wife twisting her nipples and lurching back and forth in the seat with tears running down her cheeks and her mouth wide open, as though she was as amazed as I was by both the confession and its powerfull results.
As it happens, we were just about to enter the village in the center of our town as all this happened, so I pulled off the road where the town plowed a wide spot for the school buses. Millicent took a minute or more to calm down physically and several minutes to calm down emotionally to the point where I felt comfortable saying anything, during which time I held her hand in mine. When finally she seemed able to look me in the eye she seemed to be looking for my response. I didn’t know whether to comfort her or whether to tell her how turned on the whole thing had made me. I did, however, sense that it was important that I make the right choice.
“Honey, I . . . . “ I tried to formulate the right words. I wanted to tell her that she need not worry that I would be shocked and disapproving. I wanted to tell her that my leg was literally slimy with penis juice from my arousal at the images she had put into my head. I wanted to tell her that seeing her out of control was the most exciting thing I could imagine, that she was beautiful, that she needn’t have kept that bottled up for so long. I wanted to tell her how much I wished at that moment that we were alone in our house so I could enfold her in my arms and she could enfold me in her cunt. Instead, I just smiled at her and kissed her teary cheeks. Mil responded with a huge sigh of relief (no doubt of several kinds), a knee buckling smile and a truly passionate make out kiss right there alongside the main road through town, under the street lamp as it lit the gently falling snow.
“So are you wierded out?” Milley asked after a few kisses.
“More like amazed,” I replied. “Actually, I have to confess it makes my heart pound to picture you getting ogled and touched – and letting it happen.”
“It doesn’t make you mad?”
“Of course not. For that matter I didn’t even know you then. What you did with them has nothing to do with me. Maybe the brother thing is a little strange, but then I can remember trying to spy on my sister once or twice. Things happen, Mil. Actually, when you first said what you said in the restaurant, I thought you were going to tell me the guys had felt you up in the shower earlier.”
“Brett, that’s just the thing, When . . . . !”
Whatever she was going to say was blasted from our consciousness in an instant, as suddenly a human form fell, as if from nowhere across the hood of our car. Shocked as we were, we could immediately recognize the face of Andy, for all intents and purposes unconscious, though apparently trying to say something in the general direction of where we sat looking out the windshield. Aside from the fact that he was drunk beyond description, the first thing we noticed was that he was shirtless in the fifteen degree March night light snow. I thought I might have seen another form in the shadow of the nearby town shed, possibly also shirtless but not approaching. By the time we reached him Andy was sliding off the car’s hood and he sort of oozed through my grip despite Milley’s attempts to help. Watching his naked torso fall onto the snow made me shiver empathetically, though it seemed not to even register to the sloshed Andy. I looked off to the town shed to see if I could find someone to assist us but saw no one. Andy was babbling semi-coherently. I could make out the word ‘sorry’ and what sounded like ‘fucked up’ and maybe ‘Jen’s man’ and, most plainly “Champions!”
“Let’s drag him,” I suggested, as we both understood immediately that we had to get Andy into our car and the sooner the better. This turned out to be more difficult than one might imagine, as he was incapable of even remaining rigid enough to get a good grip. I moved the car to a position where Andy was abreast of the back seat door and I wound up dragging him by his wrists into the backseat as Mil lifted at the backs of his knees.
When he was finally in the car and the doors shut (and locked), we turned up the heat full blast while Mil put my jacket over his now shivering form. “What now?” Milley asked, as I started to drive off.
“Well, we can’t bring him to his house like this,” I thought out loud, “I wonder where Jen is? I would have expected them to be together tonight.”
Just then I saw the other form half running, half staggering from behind the town salt shed, attempting a comical escape. Escape! Jason (and it was Jason) could not have escaped from his socks, by the look of him, though he was far beyond being able to understand that. It took little effort to catch up to him, though convincing him that he had been caught was a little trickier. Finally I said, “We have Andy!”, in a way that suggested a hostage situation, the only solution to which was Jason’s unconditional surrender. He had his jacket on and Andy’s in his hand as he stood as still as he could.
“Listen, Jason, you fucking nitwit,” I said, “are there any more of you guys out here trying to freeze to death?”
“Nah,” said Jason, and then, evidently the ridiculousness of the situation dropped on his brain and he started to laugh which ended in a cough, which in turn led to a few dry heaves. “Fuck!”
“Where’s Jen?” I asked him twice. That seemed to sober him ever so slightly, so that he looked up at me with eyes wide from his kneeling position, which was the result of the dry heaves.
“Oh man, oh shit man, she’s. . . she’s in some de . …eep shit,” Jason replied, a tone of awe in his now hiccupping voice. “She’s fu .. . . . fucked! Sorry,” he seemed to remember whom he was speaking to.
“Where IS she, Jason?”
“She’s home, I guess. Her folks caught her drinking and stuff with me and Andy, but him and me we go. . . . ot away.”
I thought for a minute about what to do, looking over at Mil who apparently was doing the same thing while Jason swayed precipitously. “Jason, JASON”, he registered and looked at me- all three of me, “Jason, listen up! You need to go home, can you go home like this?”
Jason giggled.
“Jason, listen to me, can you go home like this? Will your parents freak out?”
“Th’allready know” he shouted, unaware of his volume. “I CALLED’um”, he fumbled for his cell. “They tole me to get my ass HOME!”, a thing so stupendously funny to his inebriated brain that he felt compelled to fall backward into a snow bank and laugh until another untimely hiccup brought on another bout of sickness.
Milly and I looked at one another, shook our heads while we chuckled, and proceeded to help Jason to his feet, then to the car. Whereupon we realized that Andy was passed out occupying the entire back seat.
“Here,” said Milly, “sit in the front with me, Jason”.
“You sh. . . ure,” hiccupped Jason, “after y’know, what happened ‘n’all”
I could hear Mil cuss under her breath at the big drunk. “Just shut up and sit there, fer fuck’s sake”
“WHOA! Miz COACH!” and Jason was giggling like a kid.
Maybe it was being suddenly tired from the big day, or being annoyed with Jason and Andy for getting so wasted or even being tired of all the secrecy and Millicent’s odd behavior, but whatever the reason I felt like finding out what all had happened in the shower room and maybe doing a little teasing.
“So, JASON…”, I said as we were driving, “what DID happen n’all” and when he didn’t immediately respond added “like in the locker room?”
“Oh f-fuck – sorry” he said, “nuthin’ really, I mean it was all juss f. . fun, pretty much. . .”
“What kind of fun?” I knew something had happened between Mil and the guys in the shower and was at once tired of wondering and was feeling kind of turned on by the idea –and also a little turned on by Milly’s silent agony of embarrassment which I could sense. “I couldn’t help but notice that you guys got her under the shower and got her tee shirt all soaked”.
“Awwww man,” groaned Jason, obviously remembering what had no doubt been one of the most erotic moments of his young life. Probably THE most.
“They copped some feels, alright?” said Milly rather quietly. Then after a moment’s pause “They felt me up.”
“Jus let me out here,” implored Jason, “we’re a-amoss there anyway.”
“It’s just another mile, Jason,” I replied. “so you felt up my wife, did you? Did she just let you do that?” I asked, genuinely curious while also teasing.
“Brett!” said Mil, but simultaneously Jason said, as if in wonder “Kinda”
“Wow!” I said to both of them. And we rode the rest of the way in silence, each of us lost in thoughts and feelings. When we reached Jason’s house I put my hand on his shoulder and said quite earnestly, “You will never say anything about this to anyone, will you?” I waited until his reply that he would never NEVER breathe a w. . . . ord of it, then let go of his shoulder and wished him good luck with his parents. Jason’s dad met him halfway from the car to the door, sounding gruff, but his wave and smile to us told us that under the disapproval was an understanding of the special circumstances leading to Jason’s condition. After all, most eighteen year olds have some slip ups along the way, his attitude seemed to convey.
We drove in silence for a bit before Milly said, “so, now you know”.
“Know what?” I asked innocently, teasingly.
“You bastard, you know what.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “You know what happened in the shower.”
“Only sort of and only partly,” I responded. “I still want to hear it from you, though. For example, who felt you up and how much and where, exactly?”
“Oh, Jesus, Brett, as far as I know they all got their big hands under my tee, which, thanks to you, they could see through anyway.”
“Why thanks to me?” I protested innocently.
“You started it all by giving me the big wet body hug when I handed you your towel!” she was smiling as she spoke, “after that my boobs were totally obvious and every one of those guys was looking at them as he came for his towel.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, “they were pretty awesome. Looked like you were having fun, too.”
“Oh my god, Brett, I was so turned on I almost took the damn thing off. I mean it. I swear I thought Andy was going to suck on them when he came back for his second towel.”
“Would you have let him?” I asked, incredulously.
Mil did not answer right away. Eventually I looked over at her for her answer and could see sincerity in her face. “No, not right then and there.”
“But if somehow you had been alone or with just him and me?”
Her answer was a quiet but unmistakable. “Uh huh.”
It took a moment for me to fully register what that answer meant, but when I finally got my head around the fact that my loving wife Milly had basically told me she would let Andy suck her tits, not just in fantasy but actually, if the circumstances were right, it made my heart go boom in my chest. My mind immediately pictured that scene in splendid erotic detail focusing not on the image of her breast, but on the mental image of her face, eyes closed, brow furrowed slightly, not in control of her behavior, awash in sexual submission. I looked over at her and saw very nearly that same look on her face right then, as she no doubt was imagining the same scenario.
“So was that all?” I asked.
“Was what . . . oh, uh, no. Kinda. No,” she finally admitted. “Oh, Brett, fuck, I’m getting all worked up now. It’s just. . . they were. . . . “ She just sort of faded out on me until eventually I prodded her.
They were what? Feeling your tits under your tee shirt?”
She moaned at that. “That and more, honey, they were all NAKED!” For the second time that night Milley seemed on the edge of an orgasm. “They felt my tits and my hand wound up on a cock! Oh, god.” I waited for her to continue. “It was like Max and Pete all over again, I just felt and felt it. I just lost control and was jerking him and touching his balls. I don’t think the others saw, because they were all looking at my chest and we were kind of wrestling under the shower.” She paused for a moment, obviously reliving the moment. “Then one of them tried to take off my jeans but I yelled at him and he stopped.”
That explained the change in tone when I had heard her yelling “hey!” playfully and then seriously. But it didn’t explain whose prick my wife had had in her hand. “Whose penis were you touching?” I asked.
Her silence lasted forever. Finally she breathed, “Andy’s.”
For the rest of the ride home I remained silent, alternately imagining the scene in the shower, wondering how I should react, how I WAS reacting, what all had really gone on those many years ago with Milley’s brother and his friend, how Milley was doing with all of this, what would come of it all. It was only when we reached our house that I remembered that Andy was still passed out in the back seat and that we needed to deal with a completely inebriated eighteen year old young man and eventually with his parents.
As Mil, still forgetful of Andy’s being in the back, got out of the car, I glanced back to see how difficult getting him out of the car and to our door would be by myself. Looking back my heart almost stopped cold. Andy’s eyes were wide open! He must have heard everything we, and most importantly Milley, had just said. Whether in his condition he understood any of it was unknowable.
I got out of the car and went around to the passenger rear door and began pulling Andy’s inert form to a sitting position, from which I hoped I could get him out. “Come on, big guy,” I said while I pulled, “let’s get you in the house. Can you help?”
“Can I help what?” asked Milley, thinking I had addressed the question to her. “OH MY GOD!!!” she half shouted and half moaned when she realized that I was talking to Andy and that he had been in the back seat through all of what she had just confessed to me. “Oh my god. Brett! Is Andy. . . is he awake?”
My silence confirmed her worst fears. “Andy! Andy, can you help me get you out of the car?” I said loudly and clearly to him. “C’mon, Andy, we’re going inside, that’s it.”
He somehow lurched his own body out of the back seat and right past me, taking a couple of steps toward the house, which brought him almost face to face with Mil, at whom he stared, trying desperately to focus. “Miz Coach!” he managed, as though announcing her arrival at a ball. Milley’s look was one of real worry, lest the next thing Andy do would be to mention ‘it’.
Andy, however, was spent for the moment, the abrupt lunge and steps having sent his equilibrium spinning into orbit. Suddenly he fell backwards, stiff as a board, luckily into a melting snowbank, which saved him from likely injury. Immediately he sat back up and started vomiting into the driveway, soaking his pants and shirt with whatever had been left in his stomach. Mil and I both went to him and held him up until his sickness passed, then together we yarned him to a standing, or at least supportable upright position and propelled the three of ourselves houseward.
Once inside, we steered the threesome to the downstairs bathroom and sat Andy on the toilet seat while we looked at one another and tried to develop a plan of action. “We need to get him into the shower pronto,” I said, noticing that Andy was starting to shiver. “Turn on the water, hon.”
Milley started the hot water while I started to take off Andy’s shirt. “Wait!” said Mil, “let’s get him in there with his clothes on first. They are disgusting and that’s the best way to pre rinse them.”
As the inherent logic of that was clear, we each got under one arm and tried to fit him and us into the shower, which, luckily we had replaced with a large open shower just the previous summer. It even had two shower heads, both of which were running. Milley had changed after the game, of course, into a dress for dinner. The dress was as wet as if she had been swimming in it, my slacks and jacket were likewise completely drenched and Andy’s foul clothing was soaked through, though no longer revolting, when the phone rang.
Milley, thankful for an excuse to leave ran off to answer, though only after stripping off her waterlogged dress and shoes, so as not to ruin our wood flooring in the hallway. Andy’s eyes followed her slim, half naked body as she left the bathroom. I unbuttoned his shirt in order to take it off and with Andy helping (barely) got it off, dropping it onto the shower floor. His tee shirt was going to be more of a problem, I decided, and left it on. His shoes and socks were easier, once Andy could support himself by leaning against the shower wall.
“Brett,” said Milley, as she re-entered the bathroom, “that’s the Hollister’s on the phone, looking for Andy. I think you’d better talk to them.” As she was saying this, she saw what I had been doing and faltered, sensing that now she might have to get back in the shower with Andy while I dealt with his parents, if only to hold the drunken point guard upright.
Seeing the sense in what she had said, I went to get the phone, which luckily Milley had had the sense not to bring into the bathroom with her. “I guess you might need to help him”, I said as I left the swaying Andy to his own dubious devices. Like Mil before me, I stripped my drenched outer clothes before leaving the room and went to get the phone, desperately trying to figure out what exactly I was going to say to Andy’s parents.
Fortunately, Mr. Hollister did not dig too deeply when I said that we had ‘invited some of the team over’ (well, Andy WAS some of the team, I reasoned) for a little celebration and he even agreed that possibly it was a good idea that Andy spend the night. I had implied that some of the guys might have been ‘celebrating a little’ before they came over, which was true in general, if not in degree, and that I would hate to see anything happen to anyone on their way home. Please, I prayed, please do not offer to pick up Andy. For the second time that day my prayers were answered and Mr. Hollister neither offered to come pick Andy up, nor asked to speak to him, instead congratulating me and the team and then hung up.
As I knew Andy to be in danger of early stage hypothermia, due to his jacketless sojourn in the snow and to his high alcohol levels, I zipped into the kitchen to heat up a bowl of soup and some coffee. All of this, including the phone call took no more than ten or fifteen minutes, and, having heard no calls for assistance from Mil, I figured things were in about as good shape as possible, considering the circumstances. I went back to the bathroom, announcing the coffee and soup as I entered.
I should have been prepared for what I saw, as I knew the situation when I left the bathroom to talk to Mr. Hollister, but I wasn’t. Andy (and presumably Milley) had gotten Andy’s tee shirt off and his pants were around his ankles, where my wife was kneeling and trying to pull the wet jeans over his feet. He seemed completely awake now, though only slightly more functional, except in one very obvious regard. His soaked, translucent briefs did just about nothing to hide the fact that his penis was totally erect, almost comically pushing the tops of his briefs away from his belly. Anyone standing in front of him could have seen right down between his sopping underwear and his abdomen, though no one was. Milley, for her part, was dressed in her skimpy underwear and nothing else, leaving what for me at that moment was a heartstopping amount of her body exposed to view. And he definitely was looking. Moreover, her efforts to pull Andy’s pants down and now off, combined with the fact that what little clothing either of them was wearing was soaked and therefore heavy, were causing her bra to ride very low on her breasts, virtually covering nothing but her nipples and areolas, and not all of the latter. In addition to the weight of her soaked bra, her exertions, and the fact that she was kneeling and bending over, the right strap kept slipping over her shoulder. Her efforts and position caused her breasts to hang down and wiggle as she pulled on Andy’s pants. Seeing my almost naked wife struggling with the almost naked Andy in the shower was so . . . . what?. . . . amazing that I forgot what I had come into the bathroom for and just stood watching.
When finally Mil had pulled the second pantleg over Andy’s heel and off, she paused to catch her breath, wiped the water from her eyes and stood up, for the first time, apparently, seeing Andy’s erection. Upon laying eyes on it, she stopped in mid-motion and stared, going pale and seemingly unaware of the fact that we were both looking at her. Her bra strap had fallen off again and I suspected that from Andy’s perspective being right next to her he could actually see part of, if not all of her nipple. Milley seemed unaware, or uncaring of that fact as she slowly tore her gaze from the sight of Andy’s prick and followed the path of his stomach and chest until she was looking straight into his eyes.
I don’t know how I knew, but I did know with near certainty that Mil was about to put her hand on Andy’s cock right then. Maybe it was her eyes, maybe it was her body position, but I am completely convinced that if I had not spoken at that moment, my wife would have taken the young man’s genitals into her hand and probably more. But speak I did.
“I, uh, some soup! Andy, we should get you something hot to drink. Honey. “
The sound of my voice snapped Mil out of her trance almost violently, as one can be thrown from a dream, jerking. Momentarily she looked confused. As her eyes and mind focused on me her expression changed to one of shock and embarrassment, almost distress. It was as if she had just come to from being unconscious and for the first time saw herself practically nude in the shower with an eighteen year old kid. It was at that moment that her bra cup lost its battle with the shower water and gravity and fell away from her breast, completely exposing it to Andy and myself. If you recall, when this story began I described Milley’s incredibly erotic nipples, the areolas of which when excited like now puffed out like a first stage of nipple erection and provided a swollen base for the jutting nipple itself. If her nipple had been filled with neon and turned on I don’t believe it could have been more obvious than it was at that moment. Instead of hurrying to pull it back up and cover her breast, Milley just turned and looked Andy in the eye (or more appropriately looked at Andy’s eye which was fixed on her uncovered breast) and smiled at him, in effect giving him tacit approval to ogle her. If I thought I could not be more astonished than I was by that, I was wrong. She next reached behind her and unclasped the bra and took it off, saying, “Obviously this isn’t doing much good.”
She spoke those words to Andy, who looked up at her face dumfounded, saw her smiling at him and smiled stupidly at her for a second or two before returning his full attention to her beautiful exposed tits.
I, meanwhile was rooted in place, watching my incredibly gorgeous wife standing mostly naked, inches from a young man, kid really, less than half her age, letting him stare openly at her bare chest. Milley was practically jutting her tits at Andy, all but daring him to touch them, suckle them. The look on her face left no doubt that she was hoping he would do just that and her engorged nipples could not have been more provocative. The sexual tension in the room was excruciating.
As far as I could tell, both Milley and Andy had forgotten that I was there. For that matter, I had mostly forgotten that I was there, so compelling was the scene before me. Andy could not seem to choose whether to gawk at my wife’s breasts or at her beautiful face, staring back at him with intense sexual intent, but finally settled on looking at her chest. I watched as Mil’s right hand rose to her own breast and she placed her fingertips around the edge of her protruding areola, as though she was going to pluck it or twist it off her breast and hand it to him. Her eyes never left his and never lost their odd intensity as she intentionally showed Andy her tender tips. Then I saw his hand come up and touch her other nipple, as lightly as one might touch a soap bubble. Milley smiled encouragement to him, even pushing that breast forward barely perceptively to increase the pressure of his fingertips. At that moment someone knocked at our door. Mil started, finally aware that the rest of the world still existed, including me. She looked over at me and I could see the progression of awareness, as she realized what she and Andy had just done and what I had just witnessed. Her look of arousal gave way to one of shock and then changed to one that had parts of anguish, fear and humiliation. She realized her hand was still on her nipple and quickly brought it to cover her mouth in astonishment. Looking at me, I could see her blush a deep red from her breasts to her scalp. She tried to speak but only got as far as “Honey . . . .” when she cast her eyes to the shower floor and then, clutching and covering herself, ran from the room.
I was torn between needing to answer the door and wanting to go to my wife to . . . what?. . . confront her? Comfort her? Fuck her? Maybe all three. I found myself going to the closet to get my robe and going to answer the door. It was Jen.
Jen was a bit of a mess also and looked worried and upset. She asked if Andy was at our house, adding that his parents had said he was. I asked Jen in and said he was in the shower and expected him to be out soon, sounding more confident than I was. Jen, as we had heard, had also been drinking, though was far less gone than her boyfriend. I offered her some coffee (already hot) and sat across from her in the living room as we drank our coffees and she told me the story of her night. Apparently her very conservative parents had found out that she had been drinking and had a fit, ordering her home pronto. When she got home things had gotten pretty wild and eventually she had just stormed out and gone looking for Andy, whose welfare she was concerned about. As she was relating her story I could hear footsteps in the hallway near the bathroom and thought I might have heard Milley’s voice talking quietly. No one came out into the living room, however, so when Jen had finished bringing me up to date I excused myself to check on Andy. I suspected that his shower episode had sobered him enough that he no longer needed minute to minute care, but also realized that he had no dry clothes to put on.
When I got to the bathroom, Andy was nowhere to be seen, so I continued down the hall to find him. As he was not in the spare room, I deduced that he must be in our room, the door of which was closed. I knocked lightly. “Hon? Andy?” I spoke through the door. After a brief pause Milley’s voice answered, “Yeah, Brett, I’m just getting Andy something to put on.”
“Good deal,” I answered, “Jen is here looking for him. We’re in the living room.”
“Okay,” anwered Mil, “we’ll just be a minute.”
Ten minutes of listening to Jen wondering aloud if she would ever be welcome in her house again later I was pretty sure I ought to go back and see what was keeping Milley and Andy. I excused myself again and started to get up, but Andy and then Mil appeared in the hall entrance to the living room. Andy, dressed in my sweats, was still pretty unsteady, though Jen rushed over and helped him negotiate the room to the sofa, where she sat with the youth. Milley sat in the other easy chair, about six feet from mine, never looking at me. She was dressed in her bathrobe. As Jen clearly wanted to talk to Andy, I suggested to Milley that we go into the kitchen to get some food together.
When we got into the kitchen, Milley had still not looked me in the eye, so I touched her upper arms lightly and said “Hon?”
Finally she looked up at me and that was when I saw it. There, on her right cheekbone, and also on her temple, were three little blops of semen!! Andy’s cum! She could tell that I had seen something by the look on my face, and, following my astonished gaze, raised her hand to her cheek and felt the drops of sperm. Tears filled her eyes and she said wretchedly, “Oh, Brett, I am so sorry! I don’t . . . , I . . Oh, honey!” She sobbed into my chest, her hands grabbing the sleeves of my robe.
Unsure of what to say or feel, I gently pulled her hands from my arms and said I would fix up the spare room for Jen and the sofa for Andy. Milley gathered herself enough to say that she would get the room ready, so I went made up the couch for Andy. We fully understood that they would likely both wind up in the spare room, but our position as coaches and adults and teachers (notwithstanding the fact that one of us had just been felt up and cum on by one of them) required at least the pretense of propriety.
Once Andy had gotten some soup and hot liquid into him Mil and I left them to their own devices and went to bed. Nothing was said about the obvious until the lights were out, when Milley, clearly on pins and needles, said “God, Brett, will you SAY something? Please!”
I truly could not answer. Every time I almost said something, it seemed to me that it would not say what I wanted. Truth was, I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what to feel. My wife had basically offered herself sexually to a young man less than half our age right in front of me. Earlier in the day she had been exposed and almost certainly groped in the shower by several young men, including Andy. Now I knew with certainty that Andy had cum near, with and partly on her in the seclusion of our bedroom. I knew I should be outraged and part of me was deeply disturbed by what I had seen and even more by what I had not. Another part of me simultaneously was erotically blown away by what I had seen and even more what I had not seen. The best response I could manage was “We’ll talk about it in the morning. This has been a long, long day.”
I could tell that Milly hardly slept all night from her tossing and, at times her crying. Once or twice she spooned with me, then seemed to lose confidence that I wanted that and rolled away. I lay awake myself for the majority of the night, and when I did doze off I would awake with a start, afraid that I would find her gone. In each of my dreams, Max, her brother, was prominent and in one she was being forced to do sexual things to him, though by what means was unclear.
Finally, when morning was barely lifting its lid, a timid knock on our door by Jen brought both Milley and myself out of our thoughts. Milley invited Jen into the room. She was dressed to leave and thanked us sincerely for our understanding of her predicament and for letting her stay the night. Then she left, telling us she was headed home to face the music.
Soon it was Andy’s turn to knock. I could feel Mil stiffen and look at me for guidance at the sound of his voice. I told him to come in, noticing that my wife pulled the blankets around her neck as he entered the room.
Ah, youth! Andy looked fresh as a daisy, in my borrowed sweat pants, despite having put his body through a near death experience the night before, though he looked definitely very nervous, if anything even more than Millicent. He did not even look at her. No one spoke for a good twenty seconds, as Andy’s mouth seemed to fail him on more than a couple of attempts.
Finally I asked if he was all right. He seemed immensely relieved to answer the least awkward of all the possible questions I might have asked him. Milley breathe out for the first time in a minute or more. But I was not done.
“I want to know what happened in the bedroom last night,” I said, to the horror of both. “You first, Mill.”
She clearly wanted to die on the spot, but to her credit she tried to tell the story after only a single lengthy pause. “I, uh, well, . . .” then with a sudden resolve continued, “I heard you talking with Jen in the living room and after a while thought that maybe I had better check on Andy, you know, in the, uh. . .” then in a small voice “in the shower.”
I am sure all three of our minds flashed on the scene that had taken place in that shower earlier. I know my stomach did a flop inside me at the memory. I can only imagine what images went through each of their heads and what reactions they had to them. When I looked at Milley she was just turning her gaze away from Andy’s and blushing furiously.
I continued looking at her, making it clear that I expected more of an answer. I will admit to feeling some satisfaction at her discomfort. “Brett, really, do you really. .”
“YES, I really” I said. “You owe me an explanation. And a lot more, Milley. And you know why, don’t you?”
Milley was crying a little as she resumed, “. . . okay, well, I went in there to see if he was all right.” There she paused, as if that was the end of her part of the story.
“And was he?” I prodded, with a slightly derisive raising of my eyebrows.
“Coach, I. . . “ said Andy, hoping no doubt to ease Mill’s torture. I cut him off with a look. “Go on, Milley.” I said in a slightly less stern voice.
“Brett, . . .”
“Go on. I want to know what happened.”
Realizing that she did indeed owe me an explanation, Mill continued, “He was a lot better than when I had left.” With this, she quickly looked at Andy despite herself, blushing again.
I immediately looked at Andy and realized that he, too, was blushing. I knew something had happened right there and pressed my advantage. “Tell me! Something happened there and you are both remembering it. Don’t leave me out.”
“This is so embarassing , Brett,” said Milley. “You can imagine what it was, I am sure.” Her tone was pleading.
“I don’t want to imagine!” I was getting angry again. Then finally I realized what I was feeling. “What happened in the bathroom while I was talking with Jen? I am imagining the worst right now, so you might as well tell me.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Brett,” said Milley, now exasperated herself, “Andy was naked and hard and just looked so . . ., so needy. . . . so excited! So good.”
“Coach, I was jacking off,” Andy said. “and Milley just kind of helped me out.”
“How did she ‘help you out’?” I demanded. “Did she jerk you off?”
“She sort of, like, posed or something,” Andy offered somewhat weakly.
“Sort of like posed or something? What exactly does that mean? And what was Milley wearing while she ‘posed or something’?”
“I was nude, Brett,” admitted my wife.
“You went into the shower completely nude to help Andy, knowing that he was also nude?!”
“Yes” she did not look me in the eye.
“And how did you pose for him?”
“I don’t know, . . I just. . . “ I could see that she was picturing that scene in her mind as her voice trailed off. Looking at Andy, I could see my sweat pants tenting obscenely and knew that Mil would soon see that as well, if she hadn’t already. Andy’s eyes were looking off in space – at last night in the shower.
“Show me!” Both pair of eyes snapped to me, shocked. “Show me how you posed for Andy” and when Mil continued to stare at me, repeated “Show me!”
“What!? Now? Here?” she didn’t need to say the rest.
For my answer I pulled the covers off the bed, leaving Milley’s body, naked and aroused, completely exposed to Andy and myself.
Astonishingly, Mil made no move to cover up, instead she looked from me to Andy and then did something that shocked both Andy and me. She showed us. Looking directly into Andy’s eyes, she raised both hands and softly held both of her nipples, tender and pink, like one might hold a couple of large strawberries, as though she was going to pluck them from her breasts and offer them to the astonished young man. With her right hand she slowly slid the fingertips together, ending at the tips of her wildly swollen nipple and, after pausing right there for a moment, tugged gently, pulling her breast out slightly and removed her hand, leaving the distended nipple as a perfect testament to the stunning eroticism filling the room. Then she said a single word. “Here,” she said to Andy, both of them looking from one another’s eyes to the exposed tit.
For a moment it looked as though Andy was going to cross the six feet between them and touch my wife, but then he apparently remembered my presence and looked uncomfortable. I heard myself say “Go on Andy. She wants you to touch it.” Even a cursory glance showed that I spoke the truth. Milley was staring intently at Andy, breathing heavily and squeezing her left breast lewdly for him to see.
Finally Milley broke the frozen tableau and its unbearable tension which held all of us captive by reaching out her hand to Andy, as one might offer one’s hand to a child for walking. That one gesture allowed the anger and fear to rush out of the room as if from a punctured balloon. A calm smile washed across Andy’s face and, eyes never straying from Milley’s breast, he crossed the distance between them and softly touched her breast and nipple, then her other one, then both. All the while, Milley looked directly at me with a blissful look on her face. We smiled at each other, eyebrows raised in amazement. In a minute, two at the most, the mood in the room had gone from erotic anger to one of calm lust.
The next fifteen minutes I can remember only in surreal snapshots; Andy suckling on Millicent’s nipples, her hand finding his penis, fondling it, her face and mouth approaching me for a deep, warm long loving kiss, the sound of sexual contentment humming in her throat as both of us pleasured her. When finally the dreamlike series of events had played themselves out, Milley had two men’s sperm on and in her and had herself experienced two gutteral orgasms. When it was all over, there was, amazingly, no embarrassment or nervousness. Just a deep sharing feeling, a few chuckles, a goodbye hug from Andy for each of us and a feeling between Milley and me that a giant step we didn’t even know there was between us ha