RETIREMENT–PART 1

CHAPTER 1

I was secretly thrilled when my firm announced they would be re-structuring. Those who agreed to retire early would be paid handsomely–given a golden parachute. As Executive Vice President for Mergers and Acquisitions I’d been under incredible stress since the recession of 2008. My doctors were sure I’d have huge ulcers if it continued. Even taking Nexium did me no good. I was chewing a bottle of Tums or more every week. There was only one solution—retire and eliminate the stress completely or face an early death. In the end I was given $2.5 million—my annual salary before my bonus, usually in excess of $3 million–spread over five years, with as much as an additional $50,000 a year in matching funds for my 401(k). I would have made the investments anyway, but I appreciated the incentive.

The truth was that I would have retired even without the incentive. I had earned millions and we lived relatively frugally, saving and investing every year until we now had more than thirty-five million in stocks, bonds, and mutual funds. I was 57, and I was ready to relax.

My wife Sandra was a CPA and Chief Financial Officer for a major manufacturer of electrical equipment. She was also given a substantial retirement package. After working for more than thirty years we were retired.

We lived in exclusive Sands Point on the north shore of Nassau County, Long Island. Our large property overlooked Long Island Sound with the Sands Point Golf Club almost next door. Sandra and I had taken the same Long Island RR train from Great Neck into the city every day for work for more than twenty-five years. We would separate with a kiss in Jamaica, Queens—Sandra en route to Long Island City, me to Manhattan. Now the house was for sale and we were looking to leave the area. Our property taxes alone were more than many young couples could earn in a year. We had bought the house more than thirty years ago for the then staggering sum of $450,000. Now we expected to get well more than a million and a half for it. Surprisingly, it sold quickly. The agent told us that the market for “high end” homes had never suffered. The rich were rich, even through recessions.

We relocated to another exclusive community in western North Carolina near Asheville where the weather was better and the taxes were one-tenth what they had been back in Long Island. Sandra and I had visited the Biltmore Estate about ten years ago and we fell in love with the area. Now we would be there to live full-time except when we traveled–something we really enjoyed.

We found a beautiful home, made all the nicer because it was a foreclosure—the builder had gone bankrupt. It had been listed originally for $1,200,000; we bought it for $480,000 with no mortgage, moving in a month later. We were busily unpacking when our doorbell rang. Sandra answered the door, greeting a couple who were our neighbors. “Hi, we’re Frank and Janet. We live two doors down.”

“I’m Sandra and my husband is Robert,” she replied.

“Bob,” I said, approaching the trio and shaking hands with Frank. Sandra was always formal whereas I was usually much less so. We chatted for a while until they invited us to a welcoming party on Saturday night. I was looking forward to meeting our neighbors so we readily agreed before returning to the rigors of moving—unpacking dozens of boxes, stacking dishes in the kitchen cabinets, and placing our private library onto the bookshelves. It was tedious work, but we had plenty of time, after all we were retired.

Saturday evening we walked down the block to the party, a bottle of fine wine in my hand. Frank greeted us at the door. He was a trifle taller than me—I’m six feet three—with a full head of light brown hair that was just turning gray. His shoulders were broad, suggesting a history of involvement in athletics. I learned later that he’d been a tight end in high school and college before wrecking his knee. Now he was restricted to golf and another sport I learned about once we had returned home later that evening. Janet was about five feet eight inches and I guessed about 140 pounds. She was a little chubby, but she was, after all, 52 while Frank was 56. She had a decent body for a woman her age, but not as good as Sandra’s in my opinion. Sandra was five feet nine and thinner than Janet at 135 pounds. Her body was slender, but her breasts were large—C-cups—and still quite firm.

We met many of our new neighbors and I was invited to play golf with several. I was pleased to learn that I was a much lower handicap than Frank despite his brawn. I thought he might hit the ball longer than me, but length is only important if you hit it straight. I thought my short game—pitching and chipping from close in—would be far superior plus I was an excellent putter. All in all I thought we had a great time.

Sandra and I were back home around one and undressing for bed when she really began to talk about the party in earnest. We had just gotten into bed and she was stroking my cock to hardness when she commented, “I bet you’ll never guess what I learned tonight.”

“You’re right. I have no idea.”

“Frank and Janet are swingers!”

“That’s nice. How on Earth did that ever come up?”

“Frank told me and then Janet confirmed it. They’d like to swing with us.”

“WHAT? I can’t believe that. We just met them.”

“Just the same, they want to. I think it might be interesting.”

“You ARE kidding, aren’t you?”

“No, silly. It’s not like cheating. It’s only sex, not love, besides we’d both know about it. We’d both be involved. They asked me about next Saturday night.”

“I don’t believe we’re actually having this discussion. You didn’t agree, did you?”

“Yes, I did. I think it might be fun. It will certainly be different. We’ve been in a bit of a rut recently. We can use a spark in our love life.”

“How could you commit us without even asking me?”

“Simple…I’m sure you can fuck Janet in the ass. It’ll probably be your only opportunity. You know I’m not going to do it. Now, be quiet and kiss me. Then I’ll jerk you off. I’m too tired to fuck tonight…maybe tomorrow, or you can eat me to a couple of orgasms. I know how much you enjoy that. Now lie back.” She ran her talented hands over my throbbing cock. All this talk about sex had gotten me excited even though I had no real interest in anyone other than my wife. My cock throbbed as she ran her hands up and down my shaft. I lay back on the pillow, my eyes unable to focus until I felt my balls contract…and Sandra let go.

“Why? Why did you do that?”

“You know how much I love to tease you. Don’t worry I’ll finish you this time. I promise.” She leaned up to kiss me, her tongue flicking into my mouth as I massaged her firm heavy breasts. She broke the kiss. “Please don’t. I’ll just be frustrated and so will you. I already told you all you’re getting tonight is a hand-job. Tomorrow—we’ll see. I’ll probably be horny by then.” She gave me a quick peck and returned to my cock, this time leaning down to lick the head and drive me crazy with lust. Her hands were sliding up and down at a rapid rate when I grunted and came at last. My ejaculate shot high into the air, landing on my belly. Five times my cock erupted; I was shot when it was over. Sandra wiped me down with a wash cloth before dropping it onto my slippers at the side of the bed. We fell asleep soon thereafter.

CHAPTER 2

The week passed quickly. I tried to talk Sandra out of the Saturday night swinging, but I wasn’t successful. We’d had an adventurous sex life since we had married in our mid-twenties, more than thirty years ago. We tried almost everything, usually with Sandra leading. She tended to be dominant when it came to sex. I wasn’t really submissive, but I wasn’t as daring as she was. She enjoyed practicing bondage on me and we’d had many tease and denial sessions usually lasting an entire weekend before fucking like crazy all Sunday night. I almost always gave her orgasm after orgasm during those wonderful weekends until she had difficulty standing and walking, but she was always able to fuck wildly when they were done.

She ended one attempt to dissuade her with a simple statement, “What do you always say, Robert? You won’t know if you like it until you try it. And, you should know, I’m going even if you don’t.”

“Yeah, I’ve said that, but usually about some new kind of food. I wasn’t talking about sex with almost total strangers.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to change your position now just because you’re uncomfortable. You might like it; if you don’t we won’t do it again. Is that okay?” I could see that I wasn’t going to get what I wanted so I agreed. I could survive one evening—I hoped—and I wasn’t about to let my wife go there alone. We barely knew these people.

Once again, we walked down to meet Frank and Janet. I brought another bottle of wine, unsure what the protocol was for…I didn’t even know what to call it. Sandra rang the bell and Janet answered. I could see that she was ready for a good time. She was wearing an almost transparent blouse and no bra. I could see her heavy breasts—bigger than I had thought and bigger than Sandra’s, for sure. Her skirt barely covered her ass and when she bent over it was obvious that she had omitted panties, as well. On her feet she wore shiny black “Fuck Me” pumps with the longest heels I’d ever seen. She was an eyeful, of that I was certain.

Janet latched onto my arm as she led us into the living room. Frank was lounging on the couch wearing nothing but a robe that was barely covering his crotch. Obviously, he had high expectations, too. I could have slugged him when he hugged and kissed Sandra, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Worse, she welcomed his advances, sitting closely next to him, her hand on his bare leg. I sat in an armchair, thinking that would be safe, but Janet simply sat in my lap, her hand resting on my crotch. Next she started to nibble on my ear.

Only my promises to Sandra prevented me from decking the two of them, grabbing Sandra by the hand and getting the fuck out of there. Instead, I turned my face into Janet’s for our first kiss. I had to admit—it wasn’t bad. She gave me plenty of tongue as she pressed her plump lips into mine. Instinctively, I reached for her breast, sliding my hand under her blouse to tweak her hard nipple. Her hand reached out for my cock, alternatively squeezing and stroking. I heard Frank laughing, “Way to go, Bob. She loves having her tits mauled. Next thing you know she’ll be sucking you right here in front of us. Janet is such a slut, not that Sandra’s far behind her. Are all those stories she told us true? Those tease and denial sessions? The bondage? Excuse us; I just have to find out how kinky she really is.” I saw him rise from the couch pulling Sandra with him. Seconds later they had disappeared down the hall, I assumed to one of the bedrooms.

I continued kissing and groping Janet until she broke the kiss. “C’mon, lover I hear you want to fuck my ass. I’m looking forward to it. It’s one of my favorite things, you know.” She led me in a different direction. Their house was a split ranch with the master bedroom on one side of the living room and kitchen and the other bedrooms opposite. I was surprised when she led me to the master. Seconds later I was naked and she was disrobing. She pulled me into the shower by my hard throbbing cock. It was one of those new ones with multiple sprinklers on three walls and more than big enough for two. She turned on the water and we washed each other, spending an inordinate amount of time on each other’s genitals. My cock was stiffer than stiff. It felt like solid steel. I turned the shower off and led her out to dry off. Again, we dried each other getting more and more familiar with each other’s body.

I thought we were pretty dry when she fell to her knees and began to lick my cock. “I like your cock, Bob. It’s a good size, much bigger than average, but not as big as Frank’s. He always splits me in two when he fucks my ass. I think I’ll be able to handle you much more easily. Shall we?” She hopped up and led me to the bed. It was already turned down. We lay in the middle where we continued to kiss and grope each other.