Don Jetman

Beginnings - Part 2 by Don Jetman A decade passed. We weren't exactly the "little white picket fence" couple, although L. played the "good little wife" to perfection. We climbed the management ladder together, worked long hours, and outwardly enjoyed our professional successes. But inside, a disquieting empty spot was growing. Where were the excesses? Is this all there is? The scene in L.'s dorm room really never left my head. Feelings from that night began to fill the evolving empty spot. Finally, one night, in bed, after taking her out to celebrate her birthday, I asked for her fantasies. The wine at dinner had greased the wheels, both for me to ask, and for her to answer. Of course, I told her mine as well - to watch another man have sex with her. We began to role-play during foreplay, often with her pretending I was an old musician friend she had secretly fantasized about for years. Then, at a friend's party, we met Dave. He and L. hit it off immediately, and some candid talk between he and I led to more role-playing with L. in bed that night. "Would you like to fuck him?" I asked, never expecting her answer. Her answer was, "Yes, I think I would." We invited him to our home, and he's been L.'s favorite lover ever since. But that's another story. After ten years of hiding our fantasies, L. finally became less reluctant to talk about her "virginal" past. She knew I loved to hear the sordid details, and eventually came clean about her college days. She rarely drinks, but when she does, I never fail to be surprised. I bought some Sangria and made L. a batch her favorite drink, Sangria, cranberry juice, and sprite, with a twist of lemon. Too sweet for me, but I thought it might get her talking. It did. She started taking about college, and I brought up Paul. And as I poured more drinks, the revelations began to pour out of her. She confessed that she actually fucked three guys while in college, but not until after we had sex. She claimed that after we "did it" a few times, she needed it sometimes when I was away, and it was "convenient" for her to get it from these three guys she hung out with. She just started spilling out the gory details while she played with my dick. Paul was the quiet, smart one. Into philosophy, science, and computers. A physics major. She told me they'd go on these romantic dates, picnics under the stars at night, dinner at nice restauranrs, chick flicks, all that stuff. She liked the attention he gave her, and that he took his time during sex, usually in a remote outdoor location after one of their picnics. He did her science homework, wrote her computer programs, and she paid him with sex. Or so it seemed to me when she told me. Her story was that when she wanted sex with someone most like me, he was her first choice. I'm not sure I was flattered. Brad was a jock, with all the muscles and outgoing personality that you'd expect. He was less in tune with her, and always took her to sports events and those cheap little sub and pizza places near campus. She said he was really funny and fun to be around, and always wanted sex. She claimed he would cum and be ready again almost right away. He was the first guy who made her sore the next day, not because he was big, but because she always knew they would fuck more than once every night they went out. She told me that some nights, after I was gone for a while, that she just needed that, to have a guy with a such great body give it to her two or three times in one night. "I'm not proud of it," she told me. "But sometimes I just got so horny, and when I started thinking of his body, I just couldn't keep from calling him. I knew he'd alway say yes. I felt guilty for using him, but he always said he didn't mind. All we wanted was the sex. He loved doing it. He was an animal." Gulp. Brad often took her to a few frat parties. She hated them, mostly because she didn't drink much, and to a sober person they were just drunken chaos. She admitted she stopped going after one night when he convinced her to drink some of the "community punch" the frat guys had made. Since everyone seemed to be drinking it, she thought it would be ok. To make a long night a short story, she ended up fucking him in an upstairs bedroom at the frat house. When they were done, she looked across the room, and there sat two other couples, watching. She claims not to remember too much about the night, but told me even after she saw them, she just laid there under him, looking back at them. She remembers feeling a rush when she realized they were watching, even though she was partly shocked, and pissed at Brad. She got dressed (again feeling partly humiliated and partly turned on as they just sat and watched her put her clothes on), and left. She called her girlfriend to pick her up. The Brad saga has another darker chapter. She later told me that he liked to fuck in public - they did it all over campus in the wee hours. One night he took her in the middle of one of the tennis courts - stripped her down to her socks and fucked her, completely out in the open. L. found out later, through a girlfriend that went with one of his frat brothers, that he had been given that very task during his final pledge week - to fuck L. in a place where they all could watch. Supposedly, quite a few of the frat guys secretly watched them from behind some bushes nearby. She was mortified when she found out, but thinks that may be why she has this urge to do it public to this day. Her girlfriend told her that the frat requested L. specifically. She was that hot. My god, I'm glad I didn't know at the time. To think much of the campus knew at the time makes me a little queasy to this day. But, feeling the way I do now, I'd have given anything to have been there watching as well! Nick was pre-law. A pretty boy, tall, slim, and came from a family of lawyers. Very rich. He drove a new Cadillac (pretty strange for a college kid), and L. and he used to fuck in the back seat. She liked this guy the most because he was going to be an attorney, and she loves attorneys (ugh!). She said this was the first time any guy brought out the submissive in her. He liked to talk during sex, which was new to L. He'd tell her stuff like, "You love my cock, don't you!" "Beg me to fuck you harder!" "You're my little slut, aren't you!" She told me it shocked her the first time, but almost right away it turned her on. She said she had to be in the mood, but when she was, he was the best of the three. He started making her strip in front of him, tying her hands during sex, and making her go out on dates without her bra or panties (which explains why she started going braless after we started dating). He pawed her in public, and eventually they started having sex in public places, which L. loved. She told me that she could have fallen for this guy, but he told her to her face that he was on track for bigger and better things - law school, and then a position in his family's Philadelphia law firm. He told her he loved to fuck her, but that he would eventually marry money, a woman of similar background. She said she jokingly told him, "You make me sound like a slut." He told her, "And you like it, don't you?" She told him she did. So, the entire time I was dating her, she was fucking these guys when I wasn't around. Guess I had an idea she might have been doing more than she let on, but all three of them? I'd show up on campus, go to her room, and they'd be there, chatting in the hall, or sharing pizza in her room with a few of her girlfriends. I'd take L. out, and we'd meet them at a concert, drunk, swaggering, giving me those shit-eating grins, eyeing her like a tasty snack. Of course, I wasn't blind, or stupid. I'd get suspiscious, even a little annoyed at the way they acted around her, so familiar, so many things implied when they talked to her, right there in front of me. She said I was silly, that they were just friends. Then she'd give me that dazzling little-girl smile and put her hand in my pants. She loved that I was jealous. She always told me so, while she was jerking me off. I hated it - and I loved it. L. claims at other times, they behaved like her brothers. Just having fun, protecting her, paying her way. They went out together often, just the four of them. Just buddies. But "fuck-buddies" came to my mind pretty quickly. Had they all had sex together? Absolutely not, according to L. They all knew, but they liked her one-on-one, no other guys present. Homophobia ruled in those days. When I asked her about the submissive sex, she said after she graduated, she was ashamed she had done those things, even if they were still exciting to her. So she decided never to tell anyone she liked it, and hoped it would just go away. All the years we were married in between, she hid it well. Never said a word. Until Dave came along and opened her up. He flipped the switch, and it just came pouring out of her. She told me it's one of the reasons she felt comfortable coming clean about her college days. It did explain how all her submissive fantasies started. Thanks to Nick.

Beginnings - Part 1 by Don Jetman L. was my girl, a fresh-faced college senior, nine years my junior. It was Saturday night, and she had persuaded me to hang out in her dorm to meet some of her friends. Music poured into the long hallway, a different song coming from each open door. I'm not sure how many of her friends I met, a dozen or more most likely, as they wandered in and out of her room where we sat on her bed, listening to Billy Joel on her tiny stereo. Most were girls - young, exuberant, sexy, and a little stoned or drunk. They visited just long enough to give me the once-over, giggling and wiggling, getting a kick out of teasing me in front of L. But L. didn't mind - they were like sisters to her, and she knew it was all in fun. I met a few guys as well. They seemed to know L. as well as her sisters, and I had flashes of jealousy now and then when they shared an inside joke I didn't get. They were all so damned young. As the hours passed, the alcohol and pot took their inevitable toll. The halls grew quiet, candles replaced the harsh overhead lights, and people began to crash in any convenient room, sprawled contentedly on floors and beds, their conversations more serious, more candid. L.'s guests slowly dwindled until only three of us were left. L. and Paul shared the same major and a few classes, and were deep into a discussion on the fine points of a recent chapter of abnormal psychology. Yawn. My degree was in chemistry, and the psych talk left me teetering on the edge of a coma. Of course, I had consumed my share of the available recreational goodies, and was somewhere between a buzz and spiritual fulfillment. I'm not sure when the talk turned to sex. It had something to do with psychology, as I remember. Maybe. Paul held that men and women were basically different, that men were hard-wired hunters, sexual predators with an instinct to spread their seed. L. was into her feminist period at the time, and argued that women weren't hard-wired to be cowering baby-makers. Or something like that. I was amused when she told him women are as sexual as men. I was her first lover. We had done it less than 20 times. So, I guess I snorted. Or harrumphed. Whatever it was, she got the message. And she didn't like it much. "So, you don't think I'm sexual?" she said. Her eyes were fiery. I knew when I was being baited. "I think you're very sexy," I answered, now recognizing that damage control would require resources I couldn't muster at the time. "I said 'sexual', not sexy," she repeated. I was stoned and a little drunk. I took just a bit too long to answer. Hell, I wasn't sure she was all that sexual. She had been pretty innocent during the time we had dated. A virgin when we met. But I did think she was sexy. The first time I saw her. Yum. "You honestly believe I don't think about having sex with other guys? That I might never be tempted to do it?" I was stunned. Paul was grinning. I stammered something like, "Um I, uh don't know..." "What would you think if I took off my clothes right here, right now, and had sex with Paul?" I grinned, snorted, and shook my head. "Oh please," I told her. "Sure. Right." It was a mistake. She stood up, and without a word, walked across the room to where Paul lay in her roommate's bed, propped up against the wall, still grinning. She began to undress. I still remember how she did it. Each step. First, the button at the front of her jeans, then the zipper, drawing it down, opening a V that showed the smooth skin of her belly and the top of her pink panties. She tugged the jeans over her hips, hooking her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties, pulling them along with her jeans until she was naked from the waist down. She stepped out of them and stopped, looking straight at Paul, waiting for his reaction, as if to say, "Do you think I'm sexual? Do you want to fuck me?" Her back was to me, and her ass was magnificent in the candle light. Paul stared. His eyes were fixed between her legs. I was jealous and angry. But I was also mesmerized. I knew I should do something, that I should put a stop to this. But I couldn't. I just stared. She played with the buttons at the neck of the knit top. Was she uncertain, or teasing him? The flickering candles threw shadows across the dimples just above her asscheeks. The last thing I wanted was for her to have sex with this guy, but at the same time, watching her, being in the same room with her as she stripped for him, was exciting in some strange way. It was just impossible that she was standing there half-naked in front of him. It seemed so easy for her to peel the top up over her head, so effortless to pull her arms from the sleeves and toss the tan ball of material into his lap. He just sat there, still staring at her, leaving her top softly rumpled over his erection. It was just as well. I didn't want her looking at the bulge in his pants. I didn't want her thinking about another guy's penis. But I knew she was. I hated it and loved it. But I couldn't explain it. I watched her fingers undo the hooks at the back of her bra, then slide the thin straps over her shoulders and let it fall away from her breasts. She squared her shoulders, pulling them back, arching her back just a little, a slap to my face for my arrogance. She knew that I would get it, that she was thrusting her small firm breasts at Paul, daring him to touch her. It was very odd. Beneath the waves of overwhelming shock and jealousy, I became aware of this faint ember of excitement, just a sliver of constant warmth that stayed with me, holding me to the bed, making me watch my naked girlfriend as she flaunted her body before a guy I had never met. It wasn't that I wanted them to have sex - I dreaded it. It was more like, deep inside where I was afraid to look, I was curious to know if she would, and what it what it would be like to see them together. These weren't conscious thoughts, but looking back, they were there, whispering to me, nagging me, daring me to go someplace new and possibly very dangerous. Within seconds, Paul stood and took her in his arms. They kissed, deeply, for a long, long time. His hands roamed over her bare back, down to her ass, then up her belly to her breasts. She gasped when he touched her there. Her gasp hit me like a second slap. Yet, I watched, frozen there on her bed, unable to look away. They had stepped apart a few inches, still kissing, their hands busy between them. Paul continued to fondle her breasts and nipples while L. unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt and pants. Up until this point, I was certain that L. would never fuck him, that it was all an act to make her point. Now his shirt was open and his pants were around his knees. They moved closer. Her nipples grazed his bare chest. A second later their bodies were glued together, her breasts flattened against him, his hips grinding slowly into hers. They kissed harder, sucking and slobbering, attacking each others mouths. L.'s back was still turned toward me, and I was astonished to find how erotic her body looked - her back and waist twisting as she devoured his mouth, her asscheeks clenched into two tight, round balls of flesh as she pushed against him, her arms sensuously draped over his shoulders, fingers weaving through locks of his thick brown hair as she held him. It was a perspective I never got to see during sex, and the beauty of it pushed my jealousy to a back burner. But it was simmering just the same. This was my girl. MY girl. L.'s little moan suddenly turned this thing of beauty into something else altogether. It wasn't really a moan - more like a short, quiet, "nnnh". She shivered a little when she made it, and stopped kissing him. It was then I noticed her legs were parted slightly, and he was fingering her. He was inside my girl now, even if it was only a finger. I was freaking a little, but still paralyzed, unable to intervene. The final test was when she took his penis in her hands, moving her fingers lightly over the length of his erection. I saw but I didn't see. I believed, but I didn't believe. It was surreal, horrifying, and amazing. Totally over the top. She would never do this. Never. Never. They stood there, staring into each others eyes, masturbating each other. In spite of the periodic tremors and gasps, they seemed almost peaceful, as though they were alone in the world, simply enjoying the pleasure they gave each other. Beautiful, but disturbing, from where I sat. They seemed so at ease with each other I began to wonder how many times this had happened before, here in her room (in the very bed I sat on?). Maybe she wasn't MY girl after all. He froze for an instant, then let out two short grunts as he came in her hands. She just kept stroking him softly until he recovered somewhat, then she pressed her body against him again and kissed him fiercely. By this time she had more than delivered her point, but the final kiss was almost more than I could take. Was it just icing on the cake she was feeding me, or was it more? And if it was more, why would she rub my nose in it? She was a tease, but she wasn't cruel. As convincing as the kiss was, I was pretty sure she was relishing the final blow, a lesson about smugness I wouldn't soon forget. There was no doubt I would have to concede to her "sexuality", and to the revelation that there was a bold, adventurous, uninhibited side to L. that I never knew existed. My jealousy soon turned to humility. But, my god, what she done to prove her point... Reality came to Paul very quickly. He glanced at me, backed away from L., pulled up his pants, and headed for the door. Mumbling an embarrassed, garbled farewell to her, he shot me a second worried look, then closed the door behind him. L. turned toward me, her nakedness almost an assault. "So, do you think I'm sexual?" she asked me again. I stared the small shiny patch of semen on her belly. Her fingers on one hand were wet with it as well. I was speechless. "Well, I guess that's a 'yes' then," she told me, grinning. Touch‚. L. and I were married soon after her graduation. I had asked her for months after the incident whether she had been seeing Paul while we we're dating. The answer was always the same. "He's just a friend." She seemed convincing. But apparently there was a lot I didn't yet know about L. I wondered what other surprises she had in store for me in the future. Back then, I couldn't have begun to imagine. Not long ago, after her second session with her first lover, she admitted that she and Paul had played out the scene in her room more than once, both before and after that night. She told me they never fucked. To her that was too much like cheating. Go figure. But they did get naked and masturbate each other, on weekends when I wasn't able to visit, or when her roommate was out of town. There was no romantic involvement, just fun, convenient, physical sex. "So, you were just fuck-buddies," I'd said after she told me. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way," she objected. Then she looked at me and grinned. "Yeah, I guess we were."

Role played this many times with her favorite lover. He makes me stand behind her and hold her while he strips her and plays with her. Sometimes I have to strip her while he watches, then hand her over to him and follow him to our bed where he fucks her. He makes her tell him that she wants him instead of me, and I stand by and listen to her moan when she comes under him. All agreed-upon games we play. He's always plays an authority figure who has complete control over us. Our favorite game... Don