A Perfect Couple

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This is an unusual story about a love that transcends sex until, by accident, it becomes clear it need not. Bisexuality is an important component of the story. If that is not your cup of tea, you might want to skip the story. If you cannot handle a woman having sex with a man other than her husband, even for a “good” cause, then please skip this story!

Warning: For those readers of Literotica who enjoy a story that is a sexy version of what could otherwise be a Disney story, this is not one of those. At least it has a happy ending. It is also a bit longer than is usual for my stories. You are forewarned.

This is a long story, and it contains group sex scenes.

**************

Everyone said we were good together. We made a cute couple. We were like a formula, you know the kind: Attractive woman, 5’4″ with a decent looking guy, 5’11” tall, four years older, the same religion, the same politics, the same taste in music, openly affectionate, and the same taste in men.

Technically, of course, we had different taste in men. I liked smart, open minded men with an interest in the arts. They could be engineers, scientists, businessmen, bus drivers, policemen, anything, I didn’t care, as long as they were smart, and they indulged me in my obsession with the arts. Keith was like that; he was perfect, he adored me, and he looked after me. He showered me with love. He made a good income. The only issue was that when it came to sex, he preferred men.

This was a problem in Indiana. Indiana was getting better every year, but it still had a long way to go. Keith was a prominent guy, and his career would have suffered a severe blow, possibly a fatal blow, if it became known he was gay. I had hoped for a long time that he was at least bisexual, not that it would have helped vis à vis his career. Unfortunately for my sex life, however, it seemed more and more to be the case, as time went on, that he was gay, pure and simple.

Keith liked men who flirted with danger, were covered with tattoos, and who wore lots of body jewelry. He also, for some reason, liked bland, banal looking, overweight businessmen who wore long, brightly colored ties. One such man in particular was Don.

I was okay with it. As long as we had sex often enough to get me pregnant and have two children together, I could be his cover, and if he wanted a few sordid, illicit affairs with some other men, as long as he didn’t rub it in my face and was careful about AIDS, Herpes, and the like, we could enjoy each other in every other way than sex. I loved the man with all my heart, and he adored me, and so what if we rarely had sex? When we did, it was fairly pathetic, anyway.

*************

Maybe I should explain. My Mom always said, “Go back to the beginning,” so that’s what I’ll do, more or less. My cousin from New York was out to visit us for the summer. Her parents “wanted her to get some fresh air,” both Nicole and I were told. Nicole and I have the same birthday, and we’re soulmates, and when she got to Indiana to visit, she was 18 years, plus two weeks old, just like me. It was a really hot day, and we were out in the barn, where there’s a fan, trying to stay cool.

Naturally enough we got to talking about boys. “You got a boyfriend?” Nicole asked.

Nicole knew already that I’m one of those girls who always has to have a boyfriend. Nicole says it stems from some fundamental insecurity of mine. Whatever. She’s right though, I suppose. I needed to know, at all times, that there was a boy I could count on. “Yes, Mike is my boyfriend,” I said.

“I thought it was Steve?” Nicole asked.

“That was last month. I seem to have no trouble attracting boys, but…”

“Well Susanna, you’re pretty and you’ve got a hot body. I’d kill to have boobs like yours,” Nicole said.

“Yeah, I attract boys all right, but they don’t seem to want to stay around,” I said.

“Really? That’s hard to believe! A hottie like you, cousin?” Nicole exclaimed.

A long discussion ensued. Finally, Nicole summed it up, “So let me get this straight. All you let the boys do is kiss you and feel you up??”

“Naked. They get to feel me up while I’m naked! Also, I give them hand jobs. They squirt on my boobs. Isn’t that enough?” I asked.

“No blowjobs?”

“No, that’s gross. They get off with hand jobs and they seem happy. They also like seeing me naked and playing with my tits and my pussy. Isn’t that enough?”

“In a word, hardly. Look, you’ve got pigs here on your farm.”

“It’s primarily a pig farm, Nicole,” I replied.

“You know how they make piglets?”

“Very funny, bitch,” I said.

“Ever seen them do it?” Nicole asked.

“You mean give birth? Yeah, of course. It’s gross,” I said, deliberately not understanding.

“No, dumbass. I meant have you ever seen them…”

“Fuck?” I finished for her. “Yeah, of course. By the way, sows don’t moan. They just stand there and take it. When they’re in heat, of course. Don’t try to have illegal bahis sex with a sow when she’s not in heat!”

“What happens?” Nicole asked.

“She runs away,” I said.

“A lot like us girls,” Nicole laughed.

“You know, a boar can fuck 15 to 18 sows in a single day. I’ve seen it,” I said.

“Did you count them? You pervert! Okay,” Nicole said. “So you know what fucking is, and you’ve seen it, too,” she said.

“This IS a farm in Indiana you know,” I said. “Farm girls may be innocent, but we’re sure not ignorant.”

“Well, returning to human sex, if you fuck your boyfriend, he’ll stay around a lot longer!” Nicole said.

“Is that what you New York girls do?” I asked, sneering.

“All day long, and all night long. Welcome to the 21st century, Susanna. Not like that’s all you need to do. You need to fuck them, for sure, but you need to do more,” Nicole said.

“You shitting me? Fucking’s not enough?” I was just a bit incredulous.

“You’ve got to like it. At the least you’ve got to pretend to like it. You’ve got to moan, tell him he’s great, the best ever, and tell him how much you need him to fuck your brains out. You should tell him that you can’t get enough,” Nicole said.

“You do all that?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. All that and more. Sometimes I think I should get an Academy Award, or something,” Nicole said. “Anyway, I don’t have boobs like yours. I’ve got to do something. With your boobs and ass, maybe you don’t have to try so hard. But fucking is a must if you want – what’s his name?”

“Mike.”

“Yeah, fuck Mike as much as he wants, maybe more than he wants, and he’ll be yours for quite a while, as long as you keep fucking him. Pretend you like it, you live for it, he’s the best ever, you can never get enough of his wonderful cock, and he’ll stay for the whole summer and your entire senior year,” Nicole said. “When are you next seeing him? Tonight?”

“No, Friday. We’re going to the movies over in Kokomo,” I said.

“Oooh! The big city!” Nicole said. “Hey!” she uttered as her face filled with the hay I threw at her.

“Fucking New York snob!” I said.

“Tell you what, you innocent bumpkin, get me a date and we can double, and we can fuck both men Friday night. Okay?” Nicole said. “You a virgin?”

“Almost,” I said.

“Susanna, being a virgin is an either/or type thing. It’s binary. I’ll put it this way: Has a boy fucked you? And by fuck, I mean penetrated you with his cock, even if only for a few seconds?”

“You’re really covering all the bases. What are you, training to be a lawyer or something? Or is this just big city talk?” I said.

“Virgin or not?” Nicole said.

“Not,” I said.

“Who was it?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Come on, Susanna! I’ve only been out here one earlier time, and I barely know any of the boys. Give me a name!” Nicole said.

“No,” I replied.

“Was it Steve? This new guy Mike? Who?” Nicole asked.

“No, it wasn’t Steve nor Mike. There was only one guy, once, and it was long ago,” I said.

“Long ago??” Nicole asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I know him, don’t I? That’s why you won’t say. Come on girl, now you HAVE to tell me!” Nicole said.

“Total secrecy? You can’t tell anyone?” I asked.

“Cross my heart,” Nicole said, and she made the gesture.

“Cousin Dave,” I whispered.

“You vixen bitch! He picked you over me? I’ve been lusting after his hot body since I was 13! Damn you and your boobs and your bubble butt, Susanna. Well, now I’ll just redouble my efforts. ‘Course, you have another advantage beside your smoking hot body, since you live closer to Chicago. How’d it happen?”

I was so relieved by Nicole’s positive and pseudo jealous reaction, or at least I think it was pseudo, that I opened up. “Dave’s family was out here visiting, and Dave and I came out to watch the pigs, since some of the sows were in heat. This one boar was busy on his fourth sow in a row, when I said, kind of philosophically, ‘You know, pigs don’t kiss, and boars don’t feel up the sows. They just get right to business.’ Dave said, ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ and he pulled me to himself perfectly and kissed me gently on the mouth. I instantly got tingles down there.”

“And?” Nicole asked.

“You want the blow by blow?” I asked. Nicole gave me the duh-uh look. “Well, everyone had gone to church except Dave and me, and we went out to watch the pigs, uh you know…”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, exactly. It was really hot out, so I wore a halter top and no bra, and short shorts. Daisy Dukes, we call them,” I said, and I got another look from Nicole. Apparently she knew what Daisy Dukes were. “Once we started kissing, Dave slipped a hand under my halter top, and before long it was tossed aside. Dave wanted to know the color of my panties. I giggled and said pink, but he didn’t trust me and said they were probably white granny undies. That led to the removal of my short shorts.”

“Now illegal bahis siteleri I was just in panties, and we were kissing and his hands were all over my breasts. Dave told me he loved me, and I told him I loved him, too, and then his hands pushed my panties aside and discovered a nice, wet pussy lay behind them. He fingered me and it felt so nice I didn’t object when he just took off my panties, saying they were ‘In the way.'”

“I wanted to see his equipment, too, and I told him that, and he undressed. Now we were as naked as the pigs, and the boar had moved on to sow number five. I said, ‘Wow, that boar is a real stud,’ and just then Dave’s cock sprang out into view, and I said, ‘And so are you, cousin!’ That pleased Dave no end.”

“We resumed kissing, and Dave resumed fingering me, and I tentatively reached for his penis, and played with it a little. It was fun! I was leading back rather awkwardly, so when Dave pushed me gently to lie down, I was glad to take the burden off my back. When he parted my legs, I thought it was so that he could finger me better. When he climbed up on top of me, however, I knew what he had in mind.”

” ‘Want to pretend you’re a boar and I’m a sow in heat?’ I asked him. He smiled and I moved to my hands and knees. He took me from behind, and I squealed like a pig when he entered me. He reached in and grabbed a boob while he broke my hymen and fucked me silly. I think he had planned to pull out and shoot on my back or something, but he lost control and shot his load inside me. That’s when I lost it and ran upstairs and tried to wash it all out in the bathtub.

“When I came back out after my bath, I was dressed, but Dave was still naked and he was hard again. He wanted a round two, but I knew the families would be back from church at any minute. Dave wanted to take the risk, but I wisely said no, and that was smart because five minutes later they showed up and Dave had just enough time to run inside and begin a shower.”

I finished by saying, “I was inexperienced of course, and afterwards terrified of pregnancy, but I had a little smile on my face for days afterward, and never even minded my brothers teasing me.”

“Maybe I should try out some of your brothers,” Nicole said.

“That’s not funny. It’s just gross. Joe is only 15 and the others are younger! Wait for Cousin Dave,” I said. “I guess you’re not a virgin?”

Nicole laughed. “Oh honey, far, far from it!”

“Is that why your parents sent you here to the middle of nowhere on a pig farm? Because you’re a slut?” I asked.

“Yeah, that and the drugs. Wanna light up?” Nicole said.

That’s how I began fucking all my boyfriends. I actually enjoyed the sex, and Nicole convinced me that’s what all the girls do anyway, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Mike was my boyfriend the whole summer and he was crushed when I dumped him halfway through my senior year. And yes, I fucked his successor (Doug), too.

I did the entire Nicole script. I moaned, I told the boys how wonderful they were, I begged for sex constantly, and I did whatever they wanted.

That summer Nicole tutored me on how to be a slut. I was a fast learner. By the end of the summer we had little mini orgies with our boyfriends. There was little I hadn’t done by the time school started up again. We even fucked in front of the pigs.

Nicole wanted to show the pigs how people fuck. The pigs couldn’t have cared less, but I arranged it so that we did it at meal time. They oinked a lot, thinking we had a slop bucket for them, and Nicole misinterpreted and thought the excitement was that she was being spit roasted by Mike and her boyfriend Dennis, the guy I had originally set her up with. The idea that pigs appreciated kinky human sex taught me how idiotic city folk can be sometimes. At least this country girl knew how to fuck. My cousin Dave had seen to that!

Mike was the one fucking Nicole as she blew Dennis, but I didn’t care. Nicole had also taught me to enjoy myself, but not to care. I did care a little, though. I was jealous.

It was fun watching Nicole get ravished. She truly was a consummate actress. She managed to moan loudly during the spit roast. She let Mike shoot inside her and she swallowed everything Dennis could unload in her mouth. Then she rolled in the mud just like a pig and shouted above the squeals of the hungry pigs, “You two men are great! Best I’ve ever had! Goddam you’re good! Your turn, Susanna.”

I actually enjoyed my turn, taking on two boys at once for the first time in my young life. I let Dennis have my pussy, since Mike had just enjoyed Nicole’s. It seemed only fair, and Dennis was thrilled to add me to his short list of conquests. Mike had the nerve to be jealous, though, even after he had just fucked the bejesus out of my cousin Nicole! I cured him of that by pointing out I had just given him my first ever blowjob (a small lie; he didn’t have to know about my cousin Dave, now did he?)

I became a legend in my high school, since -as I found canlı bahis siteleri out – boys talk. Everyone knew almost instantly that my cousin Nicole and I had both been spit roasted in front of our pigs, no less. I found out later, to even my surprise, that Nicole was lying about everything. She had faked her orgasms, and she told me the boys were pathetic compared to her men from the Bronx. “Those men know how to please a girl!” was her definitive remark about her Bronx lovers. I wondered how many men in the Bronx who had enjoyed their turns with Nicole? Maybe she exaggerated the numbers just a bit, too?

After that momentous summer, I had a boyfriend at all times my senior year, too. The thing is, by the time I turned 21 years old, I had never had an orgasm. Not even once. I had faked an enormous number of them, but I had never actually had one. I came to think that as for sex, I could take it or leave it. I kept it though, because I still needed to have – at all times – a man on my arm! Then along came Martin Davis, and he turned my world upside down. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

**********

Back to the perfect couple: Keith and myself.

I still wasn’t pregnant. That’s okay, I was only 24. I had a good ten to twelve years, even up to sixteen more years, to get pregnant, after all. I was in the kitchen making dinner when Keith came home with Don in tow. He had done that before on other Fridays, with other gay ‘friends,’ and we always exchanged pleasantries, and with Don I did the Hoosier Hospitality Thing and invited Don to stay for dinner. He accepted in a heartbeat. Don was a bit plump, and I inferred he liked to eat.

I liked Don. He was a charmer, and moreover he was a conversationalist. I guess I’m just one of those girls who loves American gay male culture. There’s a lot of us, you know. My husband Keith in contrast was a quiet man. Keith had thoughts all the time, no question, he just seemed always to prefer to keep them to himself. Don however talked up a storm, sprinkling his conversation with clever jokes, and he maintained a straight face as he told them, too.

Keith didn’t have to talk. You know how you read the mind of a cat by watching her ears and her body language? I could do that with Keith. I could listen to Keith’s face and body language and I would know his thoughts.

By the end of dinner, I was laughing so much due to Don’s chatter that my sides ached and I was even crying a little from excessive mirth. When I laugh, my chest jiggles and my boobs bounce around in my old, saggy bra, usually enough to get any man interested, but with two gay men at the table, who cares? Don then went into overdrive and began to imitate celebrities, perfectly mimicking both their voices and their gestures. I laughed so hard I almost peed in my panties. It was amazing fun.

The wine flowed easily, and Keith had already opened a third bottle. Add that to the whiskey sours Keith gave the three of us before dinner and the men were buzzed, and I, being a woman and moreover of little weight (not counting my breasts), was almost falling down drunk. It was around then that the storm stopped threatening and arrived with ferocity. It took down the power lines and our house became as dark as a tomb.

Living in Indiana, we were prepared. Keith used the flashlight app on his phone to make his way to the closet where we keep our emergency candles, and soon we had candlelight. Always prepared, I even had specially designed candle holders, so no wax dripped and the threat of accidental fire was minimized. We all pretended it was the time of our great grandparents, before electric lights. The evening took on a romantic quality.

“Doesn’t Susanna look beautiful in candlelight?” Keith bragged.

“Susanna looks beautiful in any kind of lighting,” Don added.

I blushed. “Thank you, boys. I think you like me because I feed you,” I said.

“Well, there is that, but seriously, Susanna, if I were one of those French painters, you know, Renoir, Degas, Matisse, I’d want to paint you,” Keith said.

“I’d love to draw your nude body, Susanna,” Don said.

“That’s right! Don studied studio art in college. He’s pretty good,” Keith said. “I’ve seen some of his paintings. I thought it was a line when he asked me up to see his paintings, but he really did have paintings!”

“I don’t like hearing about your affairs,” I said to my husband Keith. “You know that.”

“Sorry, babe. But seriously, do you want to pose for Don?” Keith asked.

“You mean nude??” I asked.

“He’s gay, Susanna. It would be for art, not because he’s a pervert who wants to see you nude,” Keith said, speaking more calmly than I had just done.

“I don’t want to apply pressure, but I’d love to draw you, Susanna. The human female body is a magical thing of beauty that has enthralled artists for millennia. You have a curvaceous, beautiful body, and you have the most enticing face. You’re an artist’s dream,” Don said.

I giggled. “You’re both drunk, and I’m plastered.”

“I do my best work when I’m drunk, except for when I’m high, of course,” Don said.

“Of course,” I giggled again. “Maybe you could just do my portrait? I’ve never posed for an artist, and certainly not nude!”

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