This is a true account of how my wife and I began our current ‘Open marriage’ lifestyle. We realize that an open marriage is not right for everyone but it has worked out great of us. Although I have only been with three other women. Two of those were at a swing party we attended. Peggy has had over fifteen different lovers. She is currently involved with two other men and sees them both almost every week. Sometimes for only an afternoon quicky while other times spending the entire night with her lover. Anyway this is how we began.
Peggy and I have been happily married for eight years. Fortunately I have been somewhat successful in business and this has afforded us some of life luxuries. We own a condo on the beach and since my work involves a lot of travel I became a licenced pilot and purchased a 4 [ ...continue reading "Old Flame" ]
Chapter 2 : Los Angeles
[ The characters in this work are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead is purely coincidental. This story contains language and scenes of an adult nature that might offend certain people. If that's you then don't read it. ]
Michele removed her hand from the front of her panties with a start as she realized that the cockpit door had been opened. It was all right, it was only Rick returning from a trip to the head. The skipper was still taking a nap. Rick stretched, feeling the muscles of his spine crackle deliciously as he arched his back. He let out a groan as the tension was released, then slid into his seat behind Michele. Michele smiled inwardly at the groan. She had heard the same groans coming from Rick the night before as he had emptied his load deep into [ ...continue reading "Captain X (2)" ]
PROLOGUE: It has a mind of its own
Late winter 1982
The room was bathed in fanned rays of yellow light, the glare of the streetlight outside the window only partially shuttered out by the Venetian blinds. It wasn’t a terribly cluttered or fancy room; bunk bed at one end, desk at the other, two closets and chests of drawers, mirror, and bookshelves. The walls were grey cinderblock, and the floor was institutional brown tile, a choice of a practical rather than esthetic nature. But that wasn’t to say that the room had no character; far from it. It wasn’t easy for a lowly teenager to make a dent in the Establishment’s effort to create anonymous conformity, but it could be done. The center of the floor was covered by a huge Persian rug, and the walls were adorned with Roger Dean landscapes: here an ethereal stone staircase over a cloudy [ ...continue reading "PROLOGUE: It has a mind of its own "The Bandit"" ]