The Learning Curve

The two people are known to us and have asked us to write this story for them. They want to let others know that if you focus on exactly what you want, and are patient, it can happen. We have obviously changed names and one or two other details to protect their identity.

There is more which we are allowed to tell if readers would like it. We needed your feedback: tell us what you like about the story (if you do) and what it does for you. If there is the right response, we will work on the sequel.

Meanwhile, this is THE LEARNING CURVE

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We had fucked for nearly an hour and it had been good. It always was. We knew how to make it last.

Melissa came three times. First with my mouth, our favorite warm-up routine. Then it was my turn. Mel turned on to her knees ready to be mounted doggy fashion. My cock slipped in easily. With each withdrawal my glistening shaft showed the moisture she always generates so easily. When we were ready to move on, she needed only a little assistance from her fingers to take her over the top.

The finale might seem surprising: Mel on her back ready to be taken in the missionary position. The problem for most men, I suspect, is that they work up speed quite quickly, and when they do that it is easy to lose control and everything is over in no time. And that leaves the other half in need of help in order not to be disappointed; at worst, that can mean d-i-y.

Not for us. I am forty-seven and Mel is five years younger. We started from a good base in both having strong sex drives. But we have worked at getting better. We talk about what works, experiment, encourage each other. Since Karen, our daughter, left for Australia and New Zealand on her gap year, we’ve had more opportunity.

So on this occasion, we dropped easily into our tried and tested method. Mel drew her knees up and opened wide. I knelt between them, hooked my arms into the crook of her knees and eased my cock into her open cunt, then held it there while she enjoyed the pressure and I acclimatized to the warm wetness.

From that point, everything depends on understanding and co-operation: vary the speed - slow-quick-slow-rest-start again; vary the thrust, inch-by-inch insinuation followed by a spell of fierce full-length driving; vary the angle - wide open for depth of penetration, knees higher and closer together for grip; and plenty of talking. Mel is blessed with a prominent clitoris so I make sure there is plenty of friction, especially when she lets me know she is ready to let go.

Simultaneous orgasm is a bit of a myth in our experience. Sometimes it happens but that’s luck. We try to get Mel off first. That way she doesn’t need her fingers while I am doing my best with a detumescing member. This time we were really in harmony. After she suggested she was ready, I managed to ride her for some minutes with increasing tempo and power, sensing the build-up in my balls but still in control, until her arse rose off the bed and the moans became a cry and I knew she had made it. A few more thrusts and I started to empty myself into her.

So after an hour we were ready for a rest. It was a Tuesday afternoon. Mel had no commitments until a five o'clock staff meeting at the college where she is Head of the Modern Languages department. I had told my secretary I would be with a client (I have a small financial services company) and didn’t want to take calls on my mobile. This happens occasionally when Mel is free; I think my secretary believes I have a mistress. In a sense, I do. She just happens to be my ultra sexy wife.

While recuperating, Mel likes to roll on to her right side, while I curl into her back, my cock nestling in the crack of her arse. Usually, I cup her tits with my left hand, but on this occasion she took it and guided it between her legs where her groin was still slick with oozing moisture.

I was half dozing when she said, “When we were really getting going just now ...”

“Yes?”

“You said, suppose - “

I remembered but said nothing.

“You said, suppose this was Geoff.”

Geoff is my squash partner and best friend. I said, “I wasn’t serious.”

“I know. You said it because you wondered if it might help. It’s the kind of thing we are good at, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think any man wants to imagine his wife being fucked by his best friend.”

“Or even see it?” Mel asked quietly.

Then I remembered. We had recently watched a video called One Flew Over the Cuckold’s Nest, and that was what she was getting at. A blonde being vigorously shafted while her husband wanked and took photographs. I felt I needed to squash this line of thought. “Not what you are suggesting, is it?”

“Absolutely not. But suppose - “

She left the the thought hanging, but I didn’t know where it was leading. “Suppose - what?”

“Suppose it wasn’t another man - “

“You mean you watching me with another woman?”

“No. Definitely not that. But suppose it was me - with another woman?”

If I had wanted to conceal my reaction, my cock let me down. Mel felt it hardening against her arse, and had her answer. But I needed to know a bit more. “A game, you mean? A new scenario?” We had several that served us well.

Mel waited a while before saying, “No. For real. It’s meant to be a big turn-on for men, isn’t it? Watching two women. And afterwards you might get to to fuck us both, one after the other. Me second.”

I admit I was aroused and pressed my cock harder against her. But when I started to move my fingers into her folds, she stopped me. She said, “From all I read, many more women than you might think are bi - or interested in finding out.”

“And you?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. But it would have to be that way - so you could watch and then have something yourself.”

When I didn’t reply, she pressed her arse against me, pushed my fingers into her cunt to show me she was ready to start again. But not until she said, “Can we think about it? Talk about it later? It wouldn’t be easy to organise.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Do you have someone in mind?”

“No.”

“OK. But if you think it would be good, let’s try.”

“I think I’d like to. But right now I can think of something else I’d like to try. Can you get in from there?”

I raised her left leg, released my cock from her buttocks and fed it into her.

“Now fuck me,” said Mel. “Hard”

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Waiting for Mel to return, I raided her knicker drawer and chose a pair in scarlet silk - from another of our games. I settled to watch the early evening news, knowing it would be read by a woman who often appeared in our fantasy sessions. I wrapped them round my cock and began slowly stroking, wondering if our earlier conversation had any relevance.

That was how Mel found me when she came home. Taking in the situation immediately, she kissed me on the forehead, kicked off her shoes and unzipped her skirt. I made room for her beside me on the sofa, and watched with pleasure as her fingers, sliding inside the waistband of the black knickers she had worn to the meeting, began their sensual movement.

“You OK?” she asked.

“I’m good. Not long started. Can you catch up?”

“I’m trying. Should have thought of this - after what we said. You knew it would be her.”

“Yes, I was picturing her bent over the desk, fucking her from behind.. We can talk about it later.”

“You hard?”

“Yes, very, now you’re here. You wet?”

“Of course.”

With eyes on the screen we grew silent, concentrating on our handiwork. Soon Mel was breathing very quickly. I was surprised she seemed almost ready. Until I heard her say, “Would be good if she was the one.”

“You still want to find out - about yourself - don’t you?”

“Yes, and I want you to be there when it happens.” She glanced down to where my hand and the silk knickers were working their magic. “Come for me now. I’m ready.”

So many images were in my mind as my wanking began the drive for ejaculation. This time I made it before Mel, but not by much. She came quite noisily. Then, easing back, she said, “Can I see?”

I removed the knickers and showed her the spreading stain.

“Good,” she said, slipping off the pair she was wearing and handing them to me. I held them to my face inhaling the evidence that it had been good for her, too.

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Half-an-hour later we were in the shower together. Usually, this was how we cooled down after a steamy escapade. But not this time. I was watching soapy water run off Mel’s tits when she said, “I know it’s not long since - but, I mean, could you do me again? Now?”

When I hesitated momentarily, she went on, “I can suck you if that would help.” But already we knew it wouldn’t be necessary. Her hand was on my cock and it was getting harder by the second.

Needing no further encouragement, she turned to face the wall, braced herself with both arms and widened her legs. The water sprayed over us as I bent a little at the knees for position, took my cock in my hand, stroked it a few times unnecessarily and then probed. Whether she was still wet from earlier or freshly aroused, I couldn’t tell but entry wasn’t a problem.

Mel pushed back, I gave her what she wanted. Not a marathon this time. Maybe a dozen thrusts but all deep and firm, Mel gasping, wanting more. I can repeat - it’s hasn’t been achieved naturally, more as a conscious joint exercise to make the most of what we know we can do well. That night I doubt there was much left for her to have but I felt the contractions in my shaft as I gave her what was there, while she took one hand off the wall to bring herself to orgasm one last time before collapsing to her knees.

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Supper was quiet and reflective, mostly small talk about the day’s other activities. It was not until we had settled down with a glass of wine, my hand stroking her thigh through her skirt though not suggestively, that she said, “Just now, in the shower. I want you to know what that was about.”

“Did it need to be about anything? You wanted to fuck - that’s always good.”

“Of course, but I’ve been dealing with what we talked about earlier. Looking round the table at out staff meeting, I began wondering about the other women. How would it be with one of them? Was it something I could do?’

“And was it?”

“I don’t know. The chemistry would have to be right. Not just for me and whoever, but you, as well.”

“I know. I think that’s important, too.”

“But driving home, I had pictures in my mind, as though I had already decided. And then when we did ourselves with that woman on the news, I felt the attraction again. But I know, too, where my priorities are. Whatever happens, or doesn’t happen in that way, I will always need a cock. Your cock. Because I don’t believe there is anyone better. That’s why I needed to be fucked in the shower.”

“You didn’t need to tell me, but thanks all the same.”

Mel was quiet for a while. The she said, “But it hasn’t gone away, has it? The idea that we might try to find out?”

To be truthful, it was a possibility that interested us both, and because of the way we are, we decided to see what could be done about it. Where to start? We didn’t want someone butch with tattoos and a strap-on. There was a pretty science teacher at Mel’s college who was openly gay - didn’t flaunt it, but didn’t hide it either. She was in a long-term relationship; her partner occasionally picked her up at the end of the day and that would renew speculation about who did what to whom and how often, but that was all.

In any case, we didn’t want someone that close to home, someone we might subsequently bump into in the supermarket. We needed to protect ourselves, too.

Trawling the internet was the obvious route but it didn’t get us anywhere. One night, after another frustrating fishing expedition, we confronted the problem. No sensible woman (and that was a pre-requisite for us) was going to agree to meet on her own a couple of complete strangers and hope that she would hit it off with one and be fucked afterwards by the other.

So what next? We agreed to put the bi-curious thing on the back burner and hope something might happen that we could’t quite foresee. We still enjoyed the role the newsreader played in our fantasy but that was no reason to abandon our ambition to spice things up a little in any way we found interesting. Analysing it, we saw that the idea of another woman sprang from the belief that another party would add to the excitement.

We discussed dogging but there seemed to be more minuses than pluses. But we sensed the possibilities in being watched. So it came about that one day I picked up Mel from college and we went to the cinema.

Our theory that at five in the afternoon the place wouldn’t be packed was correct. We had chosen the least popular title at the multiplex and there were barely two dozen people there. We took seats in the back row and discovered, once our eyes were accustomed to the semi-darkness, that we had it to ourselves. Better still, a youngish man, returning from a trip to the gents, soon moved into the row, leaving a couple of spaces but close enough.

Mel nudged me and I nodded approval. She opened the top three buttons of her blouse and I slipped my hand inside. The movement was picked up by the young man and his hand went to his lap. We had struck lucky first time. Mel, pretending to be unaware of his attention, widened her legs and let her skirt ride up. When she took my hand from her tits and guided it to her inner thighs, the man’s response was to unzip himself. He glanced at Mel and smiled. She nodded and smiled back to indicate it was OK with us if he wanted to play with himself.

Hardly able to believe we were getting what we came for, Mel opened my zip. It need only brief fondling by cool, clever fingers and I was hard. Then, just as she bent her head to begin, there was a change in the light levels. The door opened and an elderly couple entered - and took the first seats they came to in the back row.

By the time my cock was back in hiding the young man had left his seat and disappeared. Game over with no winners. We left soon afterwards. I drove us to a remote corner of the car park and Mel completed the job she had hardly begun inside but it was poor compensation.

Plan B - which we had hoped not to need because we were uncertain about what it would offer - was a porn cinema. There wouldn’t be any prudish spoilsports there, but what would there be. Mel wasn’t prepared to go on the off chance but she was willing for me to investigate.

The cinema that fulfilled our criterion of not being on our doorstep was in a town thirty-odd miles away. I was surprised that I didn’t need to be a member: just paid my tenner and was waved in. There were screens in two rooms, both showing rather better quality films than I had expected. Not subtle, of course, lots of close-up penetration, noisy women taking large cocks, some anal.

Neither room was full but there was plenty of activity, mostly towards the rear in each case. Some twosomes, some voyeurs, a lot of wanking. The only problem, the only women to be seen were on the screen. The films were emphatically hetero but the watchers were undeniably gay.

I was beginning to get inviting looks from some of those with protruding cocks. Time to leave. But unwilling to admit to complete failure, I stopped on the way out to talk to the man at the counter who was also overseeing a display of magazines, videoa and sex aids.

“What’s the position with women here?” I asked.

“Depends. We don’t get many, but you can bring one if you want.”

“How would that work?”

 “Well, try coming on a Friday night lateish. Official closing time is ten-thirty. There’s a guy comes most weeks with his wife. If they are in, I close at ten-thirty, lock the door and no-one leaves until the end.”

“The end of what?”

“What do you think? If she’s in the mood, everyone gets a blow job. The ones she fancies get more. Everyone can watch, wank, whatever.”

“But just one woman?”

“Would be good to have more. Why don’t you bring yours? There’d be plenty for her.”

I reported back to Mel and we crossed another idea off the list.

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But it was Mel who made the suggestion that eventually produced results - though not without much trial and error.

We had been engaged in a particularly satisfactory session that included a new discovery. I had already come once and we were wondering about carrying on without a pause, something I can sometimes do. I was kneeling on the bed arranging cushions for Mel to lie on in a pose I knew would get me going. But I was taken by surprise when she slipped hand between my legs from behind and cradled my balls, moulding them gently. At the same time, she bent her head to circle my slightly distended arsehole with the tip of her tongue. In an instant my cock was rigid and demanding more.

What followed was a lengthy bout of sixty-nine, with more excellent work from Mel’s tongue, and then - at her request - a hard, fast fuck.

It was while we were that Mel raised the question of what next. “In the end,” she said, “what we’ve been looking for is someone who will be there but won’t be joining in. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that what’s called a voyeur?”

“I guess so.”

“And aren’t there plenty of men out there in that category?”

It was obvious, really, but I think it was important that Mel was the one who raised it,; it indicated she would be comfortable with it in the right circumstances.

So it was back to the internet. We would still have strict no-go areas but at least we went about in a more methodical way. We set ourselves up with a new e-mail address to be used only in this connection. We bought a pay-as-you-go mobile for phase two.

Next we found a promising site and signed up with fictitious names. We posted two photos of Mel in her underwear, neither showing her face. From the back she was shown kneeling so that the knicker fabric was stretched invitingly across her taut buttocks. From the front, a lacy bra did nothing to conceal the hardness of erect nipples, while her hand was suggestively inside the waistband of her knickers.

Fortunately, the website acted as a firewall, so that responses were diverted before reaching our new e-mail address. Fortunately, because there were plenty of them, just as Mel had suggested. The problem was identifying the interesting ones.

A whole lot of them said they were exactly what we were looking for, understood about no participation, but would be keen to join in if invited. So that eliminated them. There were those who were only willing to get their cocks out and wank if they could be assured they would see us doing anal. Some sent photos of their cock. Other pictures showed them shooting on to their other half’s knickers.

We exchanged e-mails with maybe a dozen hopefuls, I met three and rejected them all. We both agreed to meet Simon, who seemed the most interesting, but as soon as he walked into the bar for our rendezvous, Mel took one look at his t-shirt, jeans and baseball cap and we were left with the job of breaking it to him gently that he would see nothing.

Two or three remained for consideration but we were beginning to think the problem was ours: we were too choosy, making the whole project impossible.