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1. We Arrive in Montana

It was Wednesday afternoon, July 1, and my wife and I were on the second leg of our flight between Salt Lake City and Butte, Montana, when she surprised me by whispering something very surprising in my ear.

“Cal, how would you like me to do a little sexual adventuring while we’re in Butte?”

We were flying to this small Montana city because I had a job interview the next morning at a university of Montana branch there. I’d recently completed my doctorate and was trying to get hired, in a difficult market, as a professor of social sciences. I was rehearsing in my mind the points I’d emphasize in my interviews the next morning and the outline of the presentation I’d have to make in the afternoon, a mock lecture to show how I might perform in the classroom, when Nancy broke into my train of thought with her offer.

“What did you have in mind?” I whispered back to her. (We had to whisper because an old woman was sitting next to her in a window seat. I had an aisle seat and Nancy was sitting in the middle.)

“I don’t know. Maybe I could flirt with some guys, or maybe I could put on a short skirt and forget wear panties. That’s always a crowd pleaser. Or maybe, if the right guy is available, you’d like me to watch me actually have sex with him. Are you ready for that again? We haven’t done anything like it since last November in Reno.” Her mouth was right up against my right ear and I could feel her warm breath in it.

“You know I would. So long as we can avoid the problem we had in Reno. You know, that guy Tom almost raping you?”

“Well, let’s face it. Actual rape wasn’t close to happening. We just need to use ordinary caution, I think. If anything is going to happen, though, we’ll need to locate a place for me to get picked up,” she said. “A bar, probably. Didn’t you say Montana was a hard-drinking, red-neck state?”

“Actually, I don’t know. That’s just what Paul [a friend of mine in Berkeley] told me. But there are bound to be plenty of horny guys around. All we need to worry about is you connecting up with guys who might end up in my classes, if I get the job. So you might want to look for somebody too dumb to go to college.”

“But you said ‘guys.’ Would you like to see me with more than one guy?” She flicked my ear with her tongue, sending a tingle down my spine.

I laughed quietly, trying not to attract the attention of the old lady. “It seems to end up that way anyway. Why should this time be any different?”

Nancy slapped my arm in mock outrage, “Now don’t be rude!” She paused a bit then continued whispering. “It’s not that I’m insatiable, you know. It’s just that having a scene with several guys at once makes it so I don’t have to put up with one guy thinking he can develop some kind of a relationship with me. When I’m with several guys, they know I’m into the sex not them.”

“Is that the only advantage?”

She kissed me on the cheek and resumed whispering in my ear, “Of course not. You know that being with several guys is very, very exciting. Partially, it’s because I’m so vain. I love it when two or more guys are into me. And I mean that literally. [She laughed quietly at the too-obvious pun.] Being the center of male attention like that really gets my juices flowing.”

Damn! Whispering to me about having sex with other guys, my beautiful, horny wife had given me a full-blown hard-on. I had to put a blanket over my lap. She caressed my erection under the blanket with her left hand, devilishly enjoying the effect she was having on me. After a few minutes of this, though, she apologized. “That must be uncomfortable. Sorry to do that to you. Let’s pick this up again when we get to the motel.”

And did we ever! As soon as we landed, located the car the college had rented for me, drove a mile or so to the motel, and checked into our room, we spent almost a full hour having very hot sex. As we fucked, I kept asking her what she wanted other strange guys to do to her. As she told me, I’d do these things to her. She finally had a gigantic orgasm as I was fucking her dog-style and telling her to imagine another guy sticking his big cock in her mouth.

Then she sucked my cock until I came, in multiple spurts, into her pretty mouth.

Tired from our trip and the energetic fucking, we crashed on one of the queen-sized beds for about an hour. Finally, at about 4:00 p.m., we got up and put our clothes on. We hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at home in Berkeley, and both of us were quite hungry.

We went to a restaurant adjoining the motel and had a rather mediocre early dinner. About thirty minutes later we returned to our room to make plans for the evening. Nancy decided to “suit up,” that is, put on something to stimulate male interest in her.

On our flights, she’d worn what she was wearing now: a pair of jeans (marvelously tight of course to show off that excellent ass of hers), a white top, and sandals. As she started to unpack her bag, I took off my clothes and went into the bathroom to shower. Just after I stepped into the shower, Nancy surprised me by pulling the curtain apart and stepping into the shower behind me.

“I’ll unpack after we shower,” she said.

We had a very good time soaping and rinsing off one another’s bodies. She concentrated on washing my cock and balls, and soon I had another hard-on. Standing behind her and holding her firm, slippery breasts, I tried awkwardly to stick it into her from the back. Unfortunately, since she’s only 5′ 4″ and I’m almost 6′ 1″, it didn’t work out.

Laughing at my effort, she asked, “Can you wait till later to do that, Cal? I didn’t know you’d be ready to go again so soon.”

I told her I’d save it for later. Then we toweled each other off (taking the usual obscene liberties with one another) and returned to the room to get dressed.

Since it was pretty warm, I put on a short-sleeved shirt, a pair of trousers, and a pair of sneakers. Then I sat down on a bed to watch Nancy get dressed.

Still stark naked, she was taking her time removing items from her bag and hanging them in the closet or putting them in one of the drawers. I especially enjoyed watching her gorgeous body as she bent over her open bag with her ass toward me. When she bent forward like this, I could make out her cunt lips and just a hint of her tight little asshole.

At 115 pounds, my wife is on the slim side. Her breasts, with their light-pink and usually erect nipples, are rather small. She owns maybe two bras, which are 33-B, I think. Of course, she almost never wears one.

Nancy’s best feature, besides her very pretty face and shoulder length blonde hair, is her velvety swatch of reddish-blonde pubic hair, which she trims on the top and sides so she can wear a bikini bottom. I love the feel of her hair against my nose when I eat her cunt.

I consider myself the luckiest husband in the world. I’ll never quite understand why she agreed to marry me.

Finally, she decided on what she’d wear. She put her white button-down shirt back on, without a bra, of course, and stepped into a short denim skirt that came down to the middle of her thighs. Then she put her sandals back on.

Then, seemingly as an afterthought, she reached into the drawer where she’d put some of her things and took out a tiny pair of thong panties that I’d never seen before. As she held them in her hand, I could see that they consisted of strings and a very small white panel. They were more like a g-string than a pair of panties.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “When did you get that little tiny thing?”

“Yesterday. They’re not very decent, but they count as underwear, I guess.”

She hiked up her skirt and stepped into her g-string panties. Then, smiling at me, she pulled her skirt down and smoothed it against her thighs. “There, I’m almost ready to go. Now I’m a proper young lady.”

I watched her put her hair back in a pony tail and reapply her make-up. When she turned to face me, she looked younger and hotter than ever.

“Damn! No one would ever know you’re thirty years old, Nancy. You look like a fucking teenager,” I said.

She fell into the role: “Oh, sir, what a shocking thing to say to an innocent young thing like me!”

“I’ll show you shocking,” I said, standing up and walking to where she stood. I put my arms around her and kissed her deeply. As we kissed, I ran my hands up under her skirt and caressed her ass cheeks, which were completely bare. I felt with my fingers until I found the thin string running up the crack of her ass.

“That sure doesn’t cover much,” I said.

“Just be careful with that string, Cal. Don’t pull on it like that. It’s not very strong and not meant to be stretched.”

I gave her ass a little pat and released her. We couldn’t spend all evening fooling around. Besides, it was almost 6:00 o’clock and we had some exploring to do.

2. We Head Uptown

Butte is a pretty hilly city. Where we were staying, in the flat area below the hills, was a not very interesting stretch of motels, fast-food places, and malls. But as we drove to the uptown area, old Butte, we were impressed by the numerous old brick buildings and houses, some of them well maintained and others seemingly abandoned. Uptown Butte is nothing if not picturesque.

The college, which specializes in mining and technical programs, was on its own little hill. Nancy and I parked the car and walked around for a while. It looked like a pretty nice place to work, though it was smaller than I’d imagined it. Since it’s summer, there weren’t very many people around.

Finally, at about 7:30, we headed back to uptown, reparked the car, and did a little more walking around. Since we’d eaten just a few hours earlier, we weren’t very hungry. But we wandered into a rather large bar that served hors d’oeuvres and each of us enjoyed a beer and a snack.

Then we split up for a while to check out a few more bars. We agreed to meet back at the car at around 9:00 if nothing promising turned up. We had our cell phones with us to keep in touch, whatever happened. The three places I went into were pretty depressing. The few customers they had were pretty old and, some of them, pretty seedy. I was just leaving one of them when Nancy called me.

“I think I found a place that might be interesting,” she said. “It’s some kind of Irish bar. At least the name is Irish. And it’s full of guys around our age. As soon as I went in and sat down at the bar, two of them offered to buy me a drink. It’s just a short walk from the car. Come over and check it out.”

Then she added something we’d talked about earlier. “I think I might try the Wronged Wife Out for Revenge gag. I’ll see where it leads. But I might need your help to spur things in the right direction.”

She gave me the name of the bar and its location. In fifteen minutes, my cock already tingling with anticipation, I was there.

The supposedly Irish bar was fairly small, with a long bar and a pool table at the rear. I saw Nancy at once, seated near the middle of the bar engaged in conversation with two guys sitting in the two stools just to her right. She had turned her body to face them, so her back was to me as I entered. I walked past her and the two guys she was talking to to sit down at the end of the bar in one of three seats facing the front door. In other words, the bar had an L shape and I was sitting at the short part of the L in the rear.

As I walked past Nancy on the way to my seat, I noticed something else. Her skirt had ridden pretty far up her thighs, and she was sitting with her legs slightly spread. I couldn’t tell at a glance exactly how much she was showing the guys, but they had to be seeing at least a lot of leg.

Sitting where I was, about fifteen feet away, I found myself looking almost directly into Nancy’s face. All I could see of her new friends, at first, was the backs of their heads. I noticed that the guy closest to her had pulled his stool slightly back from the bar to permit his friend a chance to talk to my wife more easily. His friend, of course, also had a more direct view up her skirt which, because the bar was in the way, I was denied.

The bartender brought me a beer. I began nursing it slowly while trying to overhear the conversation my wife was having. Because they were facing away from me, I couldn’t hear much of what the guys were saying. But Nancy (for my benefit I’m sure) raised her voice a little to make it possible for me to hear at least some of her end of the conversation. There was quite a lot of loud talk among the pool players just behind me, so it was still hard to hear everything.

She seemed to be answering questions the two guys were asking her. I heard her mention flying into Butte earlier in the day and having to stay the night at a motel. She then mentioned its name, the Best Western, and said some guy who worked there had driven her uptown. Then she said something about having to call a cab later.

This was followed by several minutes of the two guys apparently talking about Butte and what a great place it was. As they talked, Nancy sat listening and sipping at a glass of red wine they’d no doubt bought for her. She was looking into their eyes intently, as though absorbed in what they were saying.

Her gorgeous blues eyes (and her lovely, unfettered breasts moving beneath her blouse) were obviously working their magic on them.

I gradually managed to see enough of her two new friends’ faces to be able to describe them. The one closest to her was short and a little chubby, about forty, and had a reddish beard and moustache. The one sitting closest to me seemed younger, in his early thirties maybe, and in pretty good shape. He was on the verge of being handsome.

Over the next thirty minutes, I was able to make out bits and pieces of Nancy’s Wronged Wife Out for Revenge act. I heard her mention being separated from her husband (“a cheating bastard”) and needing to find a job now that she was on her own.

The clear message, in other words, was that she was available and vulnerable.

I decided, finally, to introduce myself into the situation. I picked up my beer and walked around to where she was sitting. She looked up from her two friends and smiled at me as I approached.

I said: “I thought I recognized you. Didn’t you fly up from Salt Lake City on the same flight I was on?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered. “I remember you. What are you doing in Butte?”

The two guys with her looked at me ambiguously. They didn’t exactly resent me, but they weren’t exactly friendly, either.

I gave my cover story. “I’m up here for two days consulting with the local power company. I’m from Austin, Texas. Where did you come from?”

“Salt Lake City. I came to Butte on a whim, I guess. I just separated from my husband and wanted to get out of town. An old friend of mine lives here, so I thought I’d drop in on her. Trouble is, she’ll be out of town for the next week. So I just found a motel. I guess I didn’t plan any of this very well.”

Nancy had turned around on her stool to face me. Leaning back against the bar slightly, she crossed and uncrossed her legs, giving me a quick glimpse of the tiny white panel that barely covered her cunt. No doubt, her two new friends had been treated to similar views.

Becoming more animated, she went on to describe how messed up she’d been since discovering that her husband had been screwing, for the past six months, two different women where he worked. It was a pretty convincing story, I thought. Then she added the part I liked best.

“My husband just laughed at me when I confronted him. He said I was too conventional, too hung up, to understand his need to have sex with other women. That bastard! I’d really like to show him!”

She twisted her body (throwing her legs open briefly and showing me her crotch) and picked up the half-full glass of wine (her second glass) behind her on the bar. She quickly downed it.

“What do you mean by you’d really like to show him?” I asked. Her two new friends listened intently for her answer.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something to make him realize I’m not just a conventional housewife. But maybe I’d better get a cab back to my motel. This place is a little loud. I’m getting a headache.”

The bartender (who’d been lurking) overheard her and offered to call one for her. But the younger of the two guys told him not to bother. He said he’d drive her wherever she needed to go.

But first he needed to call his roommate, who was using his truck for something. He stood up and walked quickly out the front door to make the call. While he was doing this, Nancy introduced me to the guy with the beard.

“This is Danny and the guy who went out front is Wayne. And my name is Nancy. What’s yours?”

I shook hands with Danny and Nancy and gave my name. Danny looked older up close than he’d looked from fifteen feet away. He was probably in his fifties. He said he’d grown up in Butte and had worked mainly in construction.

As the three of us chatted, I stood in front of Nancy, with Danny sitting just to the right. From my angle, looking down on her, I was treated to several more fleeting views of her crotch. Once, when she swiveled her body slightly toward Danny and briefly uncrossed her legs, I’m sure he got a nice view, too. Watching my wife tease a totally strange guy like this was causing my cock to stiffen.

A few minutes later, Wayne returned to say that his friend would be here in about five minutes. He was somewhere in the neighborhood. We exchanged names, a little too formally.

Wayne and I continued to stand facing Nancy while Danny remained in his seat. Conversation was a little awkward until Nancy suddenly reached into her purse, which was sitting on the bar, and took out her little digital camera.

She held it out to me. “Cal, would you mind taking a shot of me sitting on a bar stool? I’d like to show it to that asshole husband of mine. He’d never believe it.”

I knew how to use our camera, of course, but I pretended to need a minute to figure it out. Meanwhile, Nancy sat beaming at me with her back to the bar and her legs crossed.

“Ready?” I asked, aiming the camera at her.

She said she was. I backed up a few feet, to make sure I got her gorgeous legs in the shot, and pressed the button. Alerted by the flash, the bartender looked at me as though he disapproved. Probably there was a policy against taking photos in the bar.

“Let’s take another one,” said Nancy enthusiastically. “Would you guys pose with me in a shot?” She made it clear that she meant Wayne and Danny. A little reluctantly, they moved up to stand on either side of her stool.

“Come on, you guys!” she said. “Stand closer. Put your arms around my shoulders. If you don’t want my S.O.B. husband to see your faces, I’ll black them out.”

“Hell, I don’t give a shit what he sees,” said Wayne.

They pressed against her from both sides and placed their arms over her shoulders as requested. I snapped the shot, my wife smiling and the two guys looking rather serious. The flash caused the bartender to frown at me. I quickly handed the camera back to Nancy to show him we were done abusing his hospitality.

Just a few minutes later, a young guy who looked like a surfer (tan, long blond hair, wearing a muscle shirt) entered the bar and walked up to where we were standing. “I’m parked just up the street,” he said to Wayne.

“OK, Nancy,” said Wayne, “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Nancy said, “I guess I’m ready. I think I’d like another drink at the bar in my motel before I turn in. Any of you guys feel like joining me?” As she issued this invitation, she smiled knowingly at me.

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “It’s getting sort of late.”

“He means his wife would kill him if he did,” said Wayne, laughing.

Nancy threw her arms around Danny and hugged him. “At last, a faithful husband. Good for you, Danny!”

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