Anything But Typical

During that glorious summer, Susan and I had scratched the primal itch on the Catholic campus near her home, at my house on one of our rare visits there on the living room floor, with that episode starting with her demonstrating her new found flexibility gained in a yoga class with me assisting by pushing down on her back, and ending with me having deep penetrating intercourse with her legs locked behind her head. We had our really peak experience in the condo pool one evening when in spite of the chance of being observed or perhaps to Susan because of it, I fucked her aided by the buoyancy provided by the water and she had a thirty minute sustained orgasm. She then finished me orally with me in the shallow end and her on the edge, receiving my ejaculation so far back in the throat that she did not even know I came. We even visited my grandparents' house which I rarely entered-some would consider it an abandoned property, I prefer to think of it as dormant, awaiting a return to former opulence. Susan could not believe my family had a maid's quarters, a reliquary of a bygone time when even the middle class, a hell of a long way from millionaires, had live in staff. She was amazed at my grandfather's smoking jacket, too small and tattered for me to wear. We had sex on my grandmother's red velvet bed that can only be described as bordello bright. One afternoon, while driving across town to the One Hundred Oaks Mall, Susan asked me if I would see anything wrong if she had sex with an older woman with matronly breasts. She was introducing me to her infatuation with Dolly Parton. She was also broaching a lesbian tendency she possesses which she may or may not have acted on during our relationship. I asked her outright as we drove if she wanted to have sex with women and she candidly, earnestly, hissed, "Yes." Taking this as an invitation to explore every man's erotic fantasy and thinking I had her approval, I put an ad in the newspaper she had found me in for a woman to join us. I had a shockingly high number of responses, but Susan seemed mortified and angry when I shared this information with Susan whose blessing I thought I had. Of course, I did not attempt to independently pursue any of these bisexual chicks. I thought I had misconstrued her desires, but one night we decided to attend a play because a high school classmate of mine was in it. She had enjoyed some success in Hollywood, even appearing in a series. Her performance was good, the play was entertaining, and at the end of the show, Susan, who had spent the earlier part of the day auditioning for Dollywood and was wearing a tank top and tight leather miniskirt, wanted to go get some alcohol at a store downtown and continue the party. The liquor store is right next to a strip club/adult bookstore and suddenly Susan wanted to go in there. We browsed dildos, vibrators, and porno magazines and ended up visiting the strippers in the labyrinthine club down below. Susan was obviously excited by the sinuous movements of the other women. I excused myself briefly to use the restroom and when I came back, she was talking to an ordinary looking, small middle aged white man in a short sleeve oxford shirt with a beard and glasses. She must have smelled money though as she had not approached one of the salesmen in suits who didn't have a pot to piss in, but one of the publishers of the Tennessean, an editor, and large shareholder in Gannett. I did not like the idea that she was in close conversation with a man in a strip bar, but he was engaging and non-threatening enough and a coreligionist, but he did say he wanted a threesome with us which was a total no go for me although Susan offered herself to him for money and he declined her inflated price. Susan saw the displeasure I evinced at her trying to whore herself. She was then approached by a couple of Mexicans who thought she worked at the club. I disabused them of this with, "No-mi mujer" turning out my rusty high school Spanish, "No puta, mi mujer." They understood and left. Susan was still enthralled with the strippers, and maybe somewhat to placate me but I think now more for herself, bought us a private dance from a mousy brunette with large breasts. She fed me the dancer's breasts and nipples as they ground on each other with me beside her on the small couch. The stripper wanted to know if we would be around at four a.m. when she got off work because she wanted to go home with us with no charge for the service. I did not bring up the offer with Susan because I was almost certain she would accept it and I was afraid of what we might catch. We left at two-thirty in the morning and Susan fucked me like an animal at the condo, her intensity unmatched in all the time I was with her. The weird scene of the whole night revealed what Susan really wanted to be when she dropped her inhibitions.