I walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom. I was naked after my shower. My wife, Jenny, still dressed, was sitting on the edge of the queen-sized bed. “Sit down beside me, Bob,” she said, patting the bed. I sat down.

“I want you to fuck Ethel,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. She kissed me on the cheek.

“What!” I exclaimed, pulling my face away and staring at her. Ethel had been Jenny’s best friend for fifty years. Earlier that day, we had attended the funeral of Ethel’s husband and now we were spending the night in her house.

“I want you to fuck Ethel,” Jenny repeated herself. “She has been a recluse for two years while taking care of her sick husband. She would like to resume life, to find romance and happiness but she’s frightened and insecure. She needs an ego boost. Heaven knows, her sex life was a failure even before her husband got cancer. And now, she’s sixty years old and has no romantic prospects.”

“I’m also sixty and maybe I’m not up for this.”

“Since when? Don’t feign reluctance. I’ve seen you looking at her breasts.”

“Big old things. She’s got a freckle on her right tit.”

“You shithead!” Jenny smiled when she said that.

I laughed. “You asked for it.” Ethel was in fact buxom. She was of average height and built like a fire plug. Big tits, a thick waist, a protruding stomach and broad hips. She had a beautiful face: large blue eyes, rosy cheeks and dimples, and white shining teeth. Jenny is her opposite. She’s tall and willowy.

Both of them are grandmothers.

I continued. “Are you serious? You really want me to fuck her? Does she want me to fuck her?”

“Yes and yes. I talked with her about getting her romantic life resumed. She hasn’t had sex for years. She needs confidence that she can perform in bed. Most of all, she wants to have some fun – for a change. You can help."

“She could help herself if she lost 20 pounds.”

“Don’t you dare criticize her weight! She has been stressed beyond belief for two years. She knows she is overweight. She’s starting a diet tomorrow.”

“So I’m supposed to make her feel good about herself?”

“Yes. She really, really needs to get laid in a no-stress situation. For her mental health. I told her you are fantastic. Don’t let me down.”

“So, what do I do? Just waltz down to her room with my swinging dick in my hand and tell her that my wife told me to fuck her?”

“She’s expecting you. Before you go, Bob, here’s one thing you need to know. She can’t cum with just a cock inside her. She needs her clit stimulated by hand or mouth.”

“How do you know that?”

“We talked about her problem while we were still in high school.”

“She was fucking in high school? You were the sex expert who advised her?’

“You’ll never know.” She winked at me. “Anyway, she needs an orgasm so give her one or more.”

“You’re all right with this? You won’t regret offering your husband to your friend?”

“You and I have never worried much about an occasional one-night stand.”

"I haven’t fucked anybody but you for twenty years.” That was true. In the early years of our marriage, we had both been a bit carefree about matters of the bedroom.

“Oh? You’ll have to tell me about that time twenty years ago.” She laughed. “If Ethel were thirty years younger I would be worried that you would fall in love with her. She was lovely. You and Ethel are the two people in this world that I love the most. I want her to be happy.” She looked down at my crotch. “Moreover, you’re getting hard already. You want to do this.”

I tweaked one of her tits. “Yeah, I admit that it sounds like fun. A bit of strange for my cock. She is sexy – or rather used to be sexy. But I don’t have a rubber.”

“You don’t need one.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Yeah, I am. Also, I suggest you put on a pair of boxer shorts. Your dick is scary big. You don’t want to alarm her by walking into her room naked.”

I stood up and rustled around in our suitcase and found a pair of boxer shorts and pulled them on. Jenny stood up and took me in her arms and kissed me passionately and we clung to each other for a long moment. I love my wife.

“One more thing,” she said as she pushed me away. “You’ll need lubricant.”

“You know that?”

“All old women are dry.” Jenny picked up her purse and reached into it and came out with a small tube of K-Y jelly. She handed it to me. “Go! Before I change my mind. Spend the night. Don’t just fuck her and leave. Make her feel wanted and sexy.”

I hid the tube of jelly in my hand and walked the twenty steps down the hall to Ethel’s bedroom. She had married well in the financial sense of that word. The house was large and luxurious. Jenny and I had a more modest home. I knocked on the bedroom door.

“Come in,” she said. I entered. Two lamps gave subdued light to the room. Ethel was standing beside her bed. She was wearing a nightgown that revealed voluminous cleavage and reached only to her knees. The brown of her nipples was visible through the sheer cloth. Her stomach was round and full and stretched against the thin fabric of the night gown. She tried to smile at me, but it came out crooked and forced.

I stepped forward and took her in my arms. She was lightly perfumed and smelling of soap. I held her head against my chest and patted her back and put the tube of lubricant down on an end table beside the bed. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I know I’m not very sexy anymore.” She had the look of a faded beauty, a beaten-down, over-weight woman.

I raised her chin and kissed her on the lips. What to say? Compliment her. “I’ve dreamed of being with you. In the bedroom. Just the two of us.”

“That’s nice for you to say. I’ve always envied you and Jenny. You’re so comfortable with each other. My marriage was never that way. I don’t miss him. I’m ready to get on with my life. Is that bad of me?”

“You took care of your husband when he needed it. That’s huge in your favor as a person.” My instinct, sparse though it was in matters of the heart, told me to be careful. She was fragile. Take it easy or this could be a disaster.

“I’m frightened. I don’t know what to do.”

I kissed her on the forehead. “Why don’t we start the rest of your life right now. Lie down on your bed and I’ll massage your back. We can talk while you relax.” Ethel was as tight as a guitar string.

She pulled away from my arms and lay down on the bed on her stomach, her head on a pillow. Her night gown rode up over her buttocks. She made an attempt, mostly unsuccessful, to pull it down. I straddled her, sitting on her legs, and I leaned forward and put my hands on her shoulders. My cock, hard as a rock, was against her ass.

I began massaging her shoulders, moving down to her back, feeling the satin cloth of her night gown. I poked my fingers beneath the fabric to feel bare skin and ran my hands up and down her flank, passing over the bulges of her breasts which were flattened out on the mattress. She didn’t complain, but sucked in air with deep breaths. I moved my hands to her lower back, pressing against her spine and letting my fingers roam.

She began to talk, almost compulsively, and I acknowledged her occasionally with a “hmm” or “that’s interesting.” I eased myself down her legs a few inches. Her buttocks were mostly uncovered and I began to massage her butt cheeks. She froze up for a second and quit talking and then relaxed and began her monologue again.

“Spread your legs and I’ll massage them,” I said. She did and I sat between her spread legs and began rubbing them from bottom toward the top. With her legs spread and the night gown hiked-up around her waist, her pussy lips were visible. If she realized that, she didn’t try to cover herself.

“Turn over and I’ll do your feet.” She turned over and pulled her night gown down to cover herself and slipped a strap back over her shoulder as her breasts were falling out of the top of her gown. I picked up one of her feet to massage it and the gown rode upwards, exposing all of her pussy.

I am no expert at massages, but I felt her muscles relax as I worked, finishing her feet and moving my hands upwards. I massaged her calf muscles and moved my hands up to her knees and higher and higher. I leaned over her and pressed down hard on her groin with one hand atop the other. I felt the hair covering her pussy. She groaned and sucked in her breath.

“Did that hurt? Did you like it?” I asked her.

“I liked it.”

“Let’s take that gown off.” I reached down and pulled her to a sitting position and eased the gown over her head and tossed it across the room. Ethel’s tits were large and pendulous, hanging loosely down her chest. Her nipples were flat. Her stomach loomed up in a mound between her tits and her pussy. I lay down beside her and worked my boxer shorts off over my feet and dropped them by the side of the bed. I was hard. We lay side by side, my hands ranging up and down her body, over and between her massive tits, across the squishy flesh of her abdomen and down to the hair in her crotch. I inserted my finger in her.

She gasped.

“Did that hurt?”

“A little. But I like it.”

I reached over to the end table and picked up the tube of jelly and squeezed some out on a finger. “This will fix you,” I said. I inserted a greasy finger into her vagina and rubbed it around and stroked up and down her vaginal walls.

She responded to my finger, moving her hips in rhythm with my finger. “Yes,” she said, “that’s good.”

My cock was at full extension now, quivering at the opportunity to be inside her. I rubbed it up and down her hip as I stroked her with my finger. I added a second finger to the first. She was bouncing up and down on the bed, hunching to take my fingers deeper inside her. “What do I do now?” I asked myself. “My wife said she won’t cum from a cock inside her. I need to play with her. Make her cum with my hand and maybe my mouth. Then I’ll fuck her. Maybe I can prove Jenny wrong.”

I took my fingers out of her vagina and began to play with her clitoris. Jenny and I called it the “love bump.” I ran my slippery fingers up and down her slit and massaged the love bump and now she was breathing hard. I kissed her on the lips and she threw her arms around me and pulled me close to her. I moved my mouth down to her tits and buried my face between them and then began licking her nipples. I sucked hard on a nipple and felt it grow in my mouth.

More than forty years of experience in bed -– 99 percent of it with Jenny -- came to the fore in my head. “When you don’t know what to say, say her name.”

I kissed her again and whispered, “Ethel, Ethel, Ethel,” in her ear. Then I moved my head downward, kissing her cheek, her neck, pausing to suck each of her nipples, and downward, running my tongue over the folds of belly fat. I paused with a wayward thought. “How am I going to lie on top of her to fuck her? Her stomach might get in the way and my cock might not reach her vagina. I’ve never fucked a fat woman. What is Plan B if the missionary position won’t work?”

I focused again on the matter at hand. “Ethel, Ethel.” My mouth moved into her bush and my tongue sought her love bump. She responded with an outburst that was almost a scream. Could Jenny, down the hall, hear that? “Just doing what you wanted me to do, Babe.” To my surprise, I was enjoying myself. I’ve always liked Ethel – and I hadn’t anticipated that she would be lively.

Now, her hand sought my cock and began to stroke it. “Don’t, don’t,” I said. “Not yet. I want to focus on you.” Moreover, I didn’t want to cum prematurely – and at my age you only have one shot. I was getting much too hot.

Then, with my mouth sucking her clitoris hard, she cummed with a shout that could be heard all around the house. She quaked uncontrollably, shaking in my arms as I clutched her by her hips and tried to keep my mouth on her clitoris. She shouted, “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” and then she collapsed, breathing hard, and her muscles slowly relaxed. “That was wonderful,” was all she said.

“It was a hell of an orgasm,” I said aloud. My cock was throbbing. Now, I wanted to fuck her – not because of my wife’s urging, but because of Ethel’s enthusiasm.

We lay side by side, both of us recovering from the exertion. She was wet with sweat. I rested for a couple of minutes and then turned toward her, putting a hand on one of her breasts and my lips against her cheek. She didn’t respond. I pulled my head back to look at her. She was breathing deeply and regularly. She had fallen asleep. She had a smile of contentment on her face.

“Oh, shit,” I said to myself. “Do I wake her? I need some relief also.” I turned away from her and lay again on my back. My cock was standing up straight. “Oh, well, best not to bother her. She’s happy and sleeping.” I put my hand around my cock and began to stroke it and quickly great streams of cum spurted out reaching as high as my neck. I reached over the side of the bed to the floor and picked up my boxer shorts and wiped the cum off my stomach and chest. Then, I went to sleep.

***

I woke up next morning with sunlight streaming through the windows. Ethel lay on her side, facing away from me. I curled around her, my flaccid cock resting against her fatty butt. She roused, as I hoped she would, turning back toward me. She was still smiling. I kissed her cheek.

“I went to sleep. You didn’t get to finish...” She paused and turned red in embarrassment before she continued...”to fuck me.”

“No. But I enjoyed you. You were great.”

“I’m sorry I went to sleep. I was exhausted after the funeral and all that. Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed. It was my pleasure.”

“But I want you to be satisfied. I want to be a real woman again. Fuck me. Now.”

“Are you sure you want to?” I wondered: can my cock recover after only eight hours of rest? It hadn’t been tested that way for many a year.

“Yes.”

“A quickie then,” I answered. “Morning is the time for quickies. Night time is for romance.”

“Fuck me.” Her hand sought my cock and began to stroke it. It rose to the friction, but only partially.

“Let’s hope this works,” I thought. I reached for the tube of lubricant and squeezed a good load on my cock, then rolled over on her, and used my hand to guide my still listless member inside her. A few strokes and I had a functional hard-on. I had worried that her protuberant belly would hinder my entrance into her. It didn’t. My dick was up to the challenge.

“I’d like to have it hard,” she said. She was getting assertive. Gaining confidence in her sexuality, I presumed.

“Hard and fast.” I began to stroke, feeling myself inside her, probing, my hands under her hips pulling her closer to me, her tits flopping up and down against my chest as she responded.

It didn’t take me long. I didn’t worry about trying to make her climax. I just sighed and let loose inside her.

“I felt that,” she said.

I rested on her for a couple of minutes until my cock went flaccid. Then, I stood up, my cock dripping lubricant, cum, and, perhaps, pussy juice on her. She had not moved since my climax, her legs spread, a smile on her face. She reached out a hand to feel me and caressed my balls. “I haven’t done that for a long time,” she said.

I let her feel my unresponsive cock and balls. When she pulled her hand away with a sigh, I took advantage of the opportunity. “I need to get back to Jenny. We have to drive home soon.”

“Yes, of course. Tell her how much I love her. Kiss me one more time.” I did, then picked up my cum-soaked boxer shorts from the floor and walked out the door, blowing her another kiss as I left.

Jenny was awake and still in bed. She looked at me as I walked through the door of our bedroom. “The conquering hero returns. How was it?”

“I’ve had worse,” I answered.

“Shithead!” She repeated her favorite insult.

“She was enthusiastic and I made her cum, so I think it worked.”

“Did you enjoy it?” There was a note of tension in her voice.

“Yes.” I looked down at her. She was stretched out on the bed under a sheet, her breasts exposed. After thirty-five years of marriage, couples have unspoken codes. One of our unspoken codes is that if Jenny goes to bed naked, she needs me. Not wants, needs. She usually wears a night-shirt to bed. She likes her shoulders covered for warmth – and her pubes uncovered for access. We’ve always had an excellent sex life, based on similar sexual desires and sex drives. Neither of us is kinky. We just like to fuck. And cuddle. I always respond to her needs – as she does mine. That’s a reason we’re still married.

I realized that she was having an attack of insecurity. She had loaned her husband to another woman, albeit her best friend. What would be the consequences of that? I needed to reassure her that I was the same man as I was before I fucked Ethel. That nothing had changed in our marriage.

I made a declaration. “You are the love of my life – and I want to make love to you right now to prove it. ”

This was going to be a challenge for my geriatric, overworked cock. Two ejaculations in eight hours and I was going to try for another – or at least give her one. I looked down at her. Her head was on a pillow, her lips parted, long, thick, brown hair, streaked with gray, spread in chaotic disorder all around her thin, wrinkled, but lovely face. Her naked tits were small and firm and her nipples were pointed and erect. “Maybe I should take a shower first,” I thought to myself. “I smell like sex.”

She dispelled my thought of cleaning up after my cum-soaked roll in the hay with Ethel. She said, “I want you now. Can you get hard?” She reached for my cock and stroked it. It was flaccid. “Maybe we should wait?” I saw the disappointment on her face when she said that.

“No, we should fuck now.” I pulled the sheet away, uncovering her whole body. Jenny is long and lean, four or five inches taller than Ethel. Her breasts are three times smaller, her pussy is twice tighter, and she has a flat, muscled stomach. She had shaved her pussy. That was another unspoken sign that she wanted me. Bare pussies turn me on.

I lay down on top of her and probed for her vagina. I would do my best to reassure her. Jenny and I had not always been faithful to each other. In the early years of our marriage, we had both had dalliances – it was exaggerating to call them affairs – with other partners. To ease our anxieties in those cases, we always reaffirmed our sex life with each other. We never ceased fucking each other as often and as well as ever. Now, I had to fuck her just as well as I usually did.

Of course, I could excuse myself because half an hour earlier I had cummed in Ethel, but the best thing would be to demonstrate to Jenny that my desire for her was not impacted. I tried to get hard and Jenny helped by wiggling beneath me, rocking her hips back and forth, and pushing hard on my hips with her hands to draw us closer. It worked. My cock expanded to almost full mast and slipped inside her.

Jenny cums easy and often and I wanted to cum with her. No fakery! Beneath me, she was more frantic than usual, grinding into me, keeping me hard with the force of her passion.

She was sweating and breathing hard when she announced, “I’m ready. Are you?”

“Go! I’m ready.” With that I pumped hard and fast and she pounded her pubic bone against my cock and we cummed together, her screaming in passion and then crying hard on my shoulder. Cumming is probably the wrong word because I had little of it still in me – but it felt good. I held her tightly for a long time until her tears subsided.

“Thank you. Thank you,” she said when she was finally able to speak. “Thank you for loving me. And thank you for helping Ethel regain her life.” She paused. “Take me home now. I want to go home. To get back to normality. Just you and me.”

“You’ll have to drive. I’m exhausted.” My mission accomplished with success, it was time for levity. “If you have any other friends who need my services, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“Shithead,” she said and kissed me.

***

This happened ten years ago. I’m still fucking Jenny – and I’m still fucking Ethel. But that’s another story.