Andie
by Robert Paul


The brilliant idea Bruce had was for he and Andie to start swinging with other married couples. Fairness, openness and true love were the keywords of his argument. And when some son of a bitch named Kevin sank his mouth between his wife's legs in front of the whole goddamned party, he found little solace in that philosophy. He watched helplessly--that mouth buried between her thighs and hands stroking her breasts. Andie laid bare her excitement to the group, nipples erect, a scarlet flush spreading across her skin. Grabbing his hair, she thrust against his face as his tongue licked her folds and clit.

On it went, the minutes like hours. Around the room the gawkers watched with admiration and envy as Andie bucked and thrust and sang an elegy of excitement. When she finally exploded in a shrill scream, the room broke into wild cheers and applause. Some congratulate him on having such a vibrant wife. One guy seemed to have tears in his eyes. "What a woman," he told Bruce. "What a woman." When Kevin finally removed his face from between her legs, her swollen labia and dark hair tinged in a creamy wetness stood out as a final testament to her vitality.

Three months later there was little Bruce could do in shaking that picture from his mind. Andie defined a man's sexual prowess by his ability to bring a woman to orgasm using his mouth. Consistently Bruce never failed in this regard. For him, making Andie climax during oral sex was a validating act, solidifying his role as husband and lover. The problem wasn't so much having his own sexual prowess devalued by watching another man do the same. The matter was complicated by his wife's lack of acknowledgment. Throughout that exhibition, Andie never once looked his way. Determined to fuck and do it right before his very eyes, she might have looked his way or cast him a sly grin or a wink to acknowledge his existence. Other women would smile at their husbands, touching them innocently, even kissing them, throughout the night. Not Andie. At the parties Bruce became just another man, one more thing she could screw. Was it too much to ask for a little recognition? Did she have to be so flagrant in satisfying her urges?

Fairness.

Openness.

True love.

Andie drove the ninety-miles back home up the coastal highway, her wry grin lit up in the glow of the dashboard lights. Outside, the wind slapped against their car and curtains of rain weaved in and out of the headlight beams. Pressed against a cool window, the torment in Bruce's head found little relief. A rain drop wavered outside his window, being pulled along until it snapped loose and disappeared into the night. Lucky rain drop.

Tonight was to have been his night, his moment of glory.

Bruce never considered himself gay by any definition of the word. Still he wanted to have sex with another man. For Bruce, nothing could bring the same kind of excruciating orgasm as anal sex, that slow building pressure, winding itself like a coiled spring until it unraveled with fierce power. And if anal sex felt so great with his wife, then why not with another man? From behind there was no face to face, just hands on hips and thrust away.

Once the idea crept into his mind there was no shaking it loose. It was not a fantasy he went out of his way to confide, either. Not in the sexual atmosphere of the parties. Not even to his unabashed wife. But when he let slip his homoerotic desire, Andie was excited and offered to help.

"I know a guy at the parties you could make love to."

"Have sex with," he corrected her. "No touching and kissing. Just in and out." After looking at her with restrained curiosity, he asked, "Who do you know?"

"Matt, Jill's husband," she revealed. "Thanks to her, I know a few things about his fantasies. We'll just give Matt what he wants in exchange for what you want."

"So what does he want?"

"To watch another woman go down on Jill," she said matter-of-factly. "And Jill wants to watch Matt with another man. They just haven't found someone to accommodate them. Until now."

He eyed his wife with caution. "So who's going to do it with Jill?" And with that, she confirmed his intuition with a smile. "You're kidding."

"Why not?" she shrugged. "It'll be something new."

"You're willing to do that for me?"

"Why not?"

The car swerved and Bruce snapped to attention. No longer on the main highway, they made their way up a small winding road. In the glare of the headlights he saw a sign for a scenic ocean viewpoint. Andie quickly pulled in and turned off the car. The pelting rain onthe roof and windshields replaced the hum of the engine.

"I need you," she demanded from the darkness. "Now. On the hood."

"It's raining like hell out there," he complained.

She was undeterred. "I'm already wet."

All around Bruce the wind drove the rain through his clothes. A faint incandescent glow from a nearby lamppost illuminated Andie as lay waiting with her skirt pulled up. Pulling down his pants, he mounted his desperate wife. Her legs swept around him, her low-heeled pumps dug into the small of his back. Even with the profound pleasure of each thrust Bruce's mind wandered.

Had it been too much in wishing for a little awkwardness from his unabashed wife? Surely some selfloathing and cringing with each taste she took of Jill wasn't out of the question. Making love to another woman wasn't her fantasy to begin with. And while she fumbled about, maybe the sight of her husband's cock inside a man might prove to her that he could be just as gregarious and wild.

Andie lived up to no one's expectations. Any nervousness was quickly betrayed by her intrepid nature. He watched his wife kiss another woman--small, fragile pecks, each growing longer and more passionate, until she and Jill clasped one another and rolled around the bed like horny teenagers. He saw Andie's hand between her legs, her fingers pushing through to the soft flesh. An unavoidable gasp escaped Jill's throat and her hips began to rock up and down against the caress of Andie's fingers. Then anointing her with kisses as she made her way down, Andie nestled between her thighs and set her mouth to work.

Over an awed hush of two husbands, Andie's tongue could be heard gently lapping her cunt, tasting that fragrance unique to her own. And when she curiously looked up to see Jill's reaction, Bruce painfully noticed the wet excitement moistening her mouth and chin.

Right then the reality of what was happening hit him with brute force. His own wife was fucking another woman, so well in fact, he feared that Jill might actually climax, an actuality he had dismissed as improbable. It wasn't their fantasy.

Bruce could see it, undeniably, in her face, the way Jill's expression undulated as her mouth fought to shut in the mounting pleasure trying to escape her throat.

He couldn't watch. At the critical moment he forced his eyes away, only to have her cries mushroom in his ears.

I'm coming!

Andie's cry was frightfully loud, an agonizing moan. Her fingers clutched his back,digging into his skin through his shirt. When she ceased, Bruce quickly dismounted and hauled up his wet pants. Andie made no attempt to sit up. She continued laying half naked across the hood of the car as the rain bathed her in a cold shower.

"This feels great!" she shouted over the wind. "Laying out in the rain!"

Bruce said nothing and retreated against the side of the car to shield himself from the chilling wind. He glanced over at her, seeing the rain pelt her thighs, how her black mat of hair stood in contrast to her fair skin. She was a picture any man would pull off the wall and cling to with possessive greed. Then her eyes met his and he looked away.

"Did you come?" she asked.

"No," he said. "But it's OK. I'm fine."

Andie sat up and took his hand, pulling him around to face her. "I want you to come inside of me."

A gust of wind hit Bruce from behind, shoving him towards her. "I'm getting cold," he complained.

"How can you be cold? I'm so hot right now!" Standing up, she kicked off her shoes and started flinging off her clothes until she was naked.

With her arms out stretched to the black heavens Andie let the rain pour down over her skin. She let out a joyous yell then ran through the torrent to the lamp pole. Grabbing it, she twirled herself around it like an exotic dancer, arching her back, her long hair hanging down as her legs wrapped themselves tight around the pole. With a hop, skip and a jump, she made her way back. "Take off your clothes and get naked with me."

He shook his head. "It's almost two in the morning. We need to get home--"

"After what we did tonight? Who cares! Let's celebrate!" Andie threw her arms around him and kissed him with great passion. He could only think of that mouth between Jill's legs, another painful image seared into his brain.

"I couldn't believe I made her come," she gushed with pride. "I didn't know if I could. I didn't know if she would. But I could feel her getting wet, all over my face. I did it just like you, the way you eat me. I tasted everything you tasted, felt every part you feel. Then watching you and Matt-- God!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the faint shell of light from the lamp post. "Come on. I want to go listen to the ocean waves!" With his hand in her tight grip, Bruce found himself dragged into the darkness of the coastal storm.

Yards away from the safety of the light, he felt a small stone wall separating the parking lot from the ocean surf below. Beyond the wall lay a black abyss shrouding a panoramic view of a tempestuous ocean. Enormous cannon-like explosions could be heardover the roar of wind. The whole scene scared the living hell out of Bruce.

"Do you hear that?" Andie yelled. "You can hear the waves smashing on the rocks below. With a wind like this those waves must be enormous!"

"It's too dark!" he yelled. "It's not safe!"

"It's OK! There's a wall!" She took his arm and found his mouth with hers. "Make love to me!" she screamed. "Right here!"

He felt her tug at his pants but pulled her hands away. "Where are we going to do it?" he cried out. "On the ground? There's dirt and gravel--"

"Do it to me from behind," her voice shouted. "I'll grab the wall--"

"NO!" Bruce let go of her hands and backed away. "I'm not going near that wall. It's too--dark!"

"It's fine! You're not going to fall over!" She found his arm again and pulled but he angrily jerked it loose.

"If you want to act like you're insane then go ahead!," he snapped. "You're pretty good at that!"

There was no reply. Nor could he see her. For all he knew she had disappeared. Finally her voice roared out of the wind. "What's wrong with you?"

"You!" he screamed back. "You're what's wrong!"

"What did I do?"

"Too much!" he screeched, his face shrouded in darkness. With that, he spun around and marched back towards the car and tossed himself angrily back in his seat.

And he fumed. He kicked the dashboard, then elbowed the side of the door until the pain outgrew his anger.

The world had become a runaway train, dragging him along against his will. It was her infectious spirit spreading like an uncontained virus. Like when Matt began sucking on Bruce's cock without fair and tried fondling his testicles and rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. Or when it came time to do his business, Bruce found himself forced to mount Matt face to face, the guy's legs up and around his shoulders while their wives cheered them on. And when he wouldn't let Matt sodomize him in return, Jill and Andie badgered Bruce into bringing him off with his hand. All throughout, Andie masturbated vigorously while Jill sucked and fondled her breasts.

Fairness.

Openness.

True love.

Through his fogged window, Bruce watched the reason for his miserable state stroll naked out of the darkness. With a sweep of her hands, she brushed back her hair as if stepping out of the shower. He noticed how the wind-driven rain sprayed her breasts, arms, legs and stomach. He envied her power. Simply by existing, Andie aroused. She could toss aside her inhibitions and find joy at any moment.

Gathering her clothes, she unraveled them, shaking loose any dirt before pulling them back on. Except for her underwear. She threw them on his lap when she climbed behind the wheel but he made no attempt to move them.

"So what are you telling me?" she asked, wiping the rain out of her eyes. "What are you trying to say--because I don't understand."

"I don't want to share you anymore," he began to gush. "I'm tired of the parties. I want you, the person I married. You've changed. It's like I don't even know who you are anymore. It's like I don't exist to you when we go there. I just want it the way it was. Period. The way things were between us." The phrasing had none of the eloquence he so often rehearsed in his head but it was too late for rewording. He had spoke his peace.

Andie said nothing for a time. She just wiped away the water running down into her eyes. The two sat amidst an unnerving silence. Bruce kept his eyes forward, even glancing out in the black night.

"I'll make this simple and to the point," she finally spoke with calm deliberation. "You met me, you said you loved me, you married me. Then you wanted us to try making love to other people. Well, I realized right then I wasn't enough for you. And that hurt me. But I accepted your feelings. And you have to accept the same from me.

These parties have been the greatest experience of my life. I've discovered so much about myself. I made another woman have an orgasm. With my mouth. I kissed her. I touched her. I can still feel her on my mouth and taste her. I feel her in my finger tips. But it's not just the sexuality, either. Mentally, physically, spiritually... I feel validated."

She then stabbed at him with a sudden growl in her voice. "And I won't give that up. So if you want to stop--do it without me. But don't crush my heart to save your own." With that, Andie started the car and sent them roaring back towards the highway.

Bruce sat paralyzed, watching the windshield wipers frantically trying to fend off the wind driven rain. What could he say now? What could he possibly do to stop her?

A milepost marker gave him more bad news. 80 miles to go. It was going to be one hell of a long ride home.

* * * * *

Your critique of this work is appreciated.
Please e-mail the author.