Roller Coaster Ride Ch. 01

The adults in this long, multi-chapter story are immoral, amoral, oversexed, clueless, swingers, and sometimes cuckolds; don't expect any heroes or saints - this is about messed up, mixed up sinners. If that ain't your cup of tea, just cruise on by. Don't read it and be offended; you have been warned.

No one under 18 is involved in sex in this entire story, parts of which could go in Loving Wives, Novels, Nonconsent/Reluctance, First Time, Mature, Anal, and other sections of Lit, but the theme is a year of exploration with others, so it's here in Group Sex -- Orgies, Swingers, and Others.

Long stories require some character development; this chapter is an introduction to some of the main characters.

December 19: Men Plan, the Gods Laugh

Football season in Texas is long, tiring, stressful, and hard on coaches and their wives. We certainly deserved a big night out now that it was finally over, albeit prematurely. Prematurely because anything less than a state championship for this young but talented team would be disappointing, and we came up two wins short.

Sure we were 21-point underdogs to the two-time defending state champions and lost by a missed extra point, but when the head coach got home from the state AAAA semi-final game he found a "For Sale" sign in his yard and a U-Haul brochure in his mailbox.

Fourteen wins for the first time in school history against only one loss did not earn us much goodwill, I guess.

It was going to be a long offseason, even for us assistant coaches, and it's hard to hide in a small town; especially when you're married to a townie, like I am. A few days after the game I'd come down off my season-long adrenaline high, and the letdown started. We spent a couple of hours each afternoon during our normal practice time washing, folding, inventorying, and putting things up, and that fueled my depression about not facing the challenge of preparing for the state championship game. Most of the other varsity coaches were headed to Houston for the game, but I opted out. I needed a break, and I needed to refocus on something besides that damn loss.

My wife of 4 years read the signs, and on Thursday she pressed her boob against me arm and whispered in my ear that our two young sons were going to stay with her mom and dad Saturday night and Sunday "so we can go out and blow off some steam! The Continentals are playing at the fairgrounds dancehall two counties over, and we're going dancing! You know how I love their music! I'm so excited!!"

Her obvious excitement and the insinuation behind being kids-free for two days brought me out of my funk. Envisioning her rockin' and rollin' to the oldies and classic rock for which the Continentals are famous relieved my anxiety, and the thought of holding her tight, curvy body against me as we slow dance gave me a jolt in my crotch.

Unlike me, she is a gifted dancer with a natural sense of rhythm, and the ability to translate the music in her movements. She converted those gifts into a college scholarship, and with a year of training she became the center showgirl and featured dancer on the chorus line of showgirls that made up the hottest dance team any college has, bar none.

She absolutely loves to dance, and nothing turns her on more. Grooving to good music with a big crowd of admirers watching her every move is the best conceivable foreplay, and I'm already daydreaming about the possibilities!

Me? I'm pretty good at most Country and Western dances and slow dances of all type, but rock and roll isn't my forte. Where I'm from, it was C&W all the time, except when we were at The Coast, and then it was surf music and other old-school rock and roll.

The only downer is wondering who will be at a dance featuring music going all the way back to the roots of Rock and Roll in the 1950s? It would seem folks that actually lived during the heyday of rock would be the audience, although my lovely wife and I love it. My concern is: how do you get wild and crazy when everyone else is over 60?

Katy laughed at my concern and assured me the Continentals have a huge following of people our age and even younger, so it won't all be old fogeys. Of course, I don't really care much as long as it puts her in the mood, which has been tough to achieve lately. Actually, that's true for both of us: with demanding jobs, kids, and the intense focus required for coaching in the playoffs, time and energy for true love-making had been relatively scarce.

Looking back, there was probably more to my funk than just losing a football game. She was 25 and I was 26, but we lived like old folks, and had almost since we got married. Any witnesses to our courtship would be shocked by the life we were living now, but there were any number of contributing factors.

Getting pregnant within two weeks of getting married, and then doing it again nine months after our first son was born, combined with both of us teaching in my wife's home town and me coaching three sports, certainly had an inhibiting effect on our sex life.

We rarely went anywhere except to school, church, and family and civic events, and only drank at the parties that the coaches took turns hosting after home games. Unfortunately, the buzz had generally worn off by the time the party ended, and all we wanted was blessed sleep. Contrast that to our courtship and it's no wonder our old friends asked if we had taken vows and lived in a monastery now.

The lone exception since we moved here was a costume Halloween party this fall. It was at the country home of a couple we went to church with, and the couples were almost all in their twenties and thirties, with a few in their early forties. That was one of the few times we'd had alcoholic beverages -- she couldn't drink while pregnant or nursing, and I didn't because she couldn't. Not knowing many of the people before that night gave me an opportunity to meet and get to know a bunch of people Katy knew well, so I was a social butterfly all night. We both danced with others, moved from group to group on our own, and periodically checked in with the other.

That being the first time since our courting days that we had partied, I got to see Katy work the crowd as a married woman rather than a single one, and it was impressive. She talked to everyone, got teased and flirted with and returned the favors, but kept her distance. At least she kept her distance until right before we left; she and an old high school crush had disappeared and his wife was looking for him pretty seriously. They came back in looking a bit nervous: their story was that they "were just looking at the full moon and talking", and she stuck to it even after we left. Did I buy it? Nah -- my Spidey sense says they both looked too nervous.

This weekend, however, had real promise; after all, it was her idea, and we were doing the thing she loves -- dancing to the band and music with which she grew up. She claimed it was all for me, but it was her type of setting, so maybe the sexy vixen I married would magically reappear. Maybe I'd remember how to turn her burners on again. And maybe if we went dancing in a town a couple of counties over, without watchful eyes, we could relax and rediscover our passion. We used to be able to light up the sky and burn up the bed, but that had largely faded to treasured memories, except on those rare and fleeting occasions when the stars aligned.

The lack of sex wasn't about looks: I get looks from women and girls of all ages, and anyone you ask about her will exclaim that she is absolutely gorgeous. Some of her friends say she's prettier now than in high school and college. I can't comment on high school, but maturity has been very good to her in all the right places. We're both in even better shape than when we got married, due to rigorous exercise regimens, careful eating, and the lack of partying. That wasn't entirely by choice: there simply hadn't been opportunities to get loose and let our hair down - until she planned this excursion.

I helped referee the freshman boys' basketball game on Friday, but still got home at 6:30. Our eldest son jumped up from the floor where his mom was reading to him and his baby brother, ran to greet me, and launched himself into my arms. He was an exuberant little boy, joy filled and outgoing -- at lot like his mom when we met. He never met a stranger, and charmed everyone -- again, a lot like his mom. Little brother was charming too, for a 14 month-old, but more reserved. Both were beautiful children, also like their mom.

Supper was waiting on the stove, so we ate and I got on the floor to wrestle and play with them. Time to calm down, their Mom warns at 7:40, so I read a book to both of them while she changes. We tucked them in at eight, and both went to sleep instantly.

She yawned and looked tired, so I volunteered to wash the dishes. By the time I got through and got to the bedroom she was out like a light. I simply stared at her for a couple of minutes in the dark, the light from outside silhouetting her beautiful face and gleaming in her golden hair; she looked like a sleeping angel. I bent and gently kissed her forehead, then beat down my base urges knowing how badly she needs her sleep.

I wonder how the hell I ever ended up with someone so completely gorgeous. "You badly outkicked your coverage" my college coaches and teammates stated emphatically, and every member of the staff here said the same thing, at least a couple of times and in several ways. I didn't resent it because I knew it was true.

I took a quick shower, slipped on some shorts, and got in on the far side of the bed so I wouldn't awaken her. Surprisingly, I also went to sleep immediately, and dreamed sweet dreams.

Saturday, December 20:

1A -- Katy's Plan Comes to Fruition

Well, until the baby awoke about six. I walked into their room to beaming smiles, grabbed them up, and took them down to let them play while I fixed breakfast. We were quiet, but at eight I looked up from my spot on the floor at a vision of tousled hair, sleepy eyes, and white lingerie on the stairs. "Why didn't you wake me up? What time is it?" the vision asked.

The boys greeted her with huge smiles and leg hugs; I answered "Well hello, Sleeping Beauty. I was afraid we were going to have to come up and give you kisses to wake you". She posed with her hip out, beamed, and asked if she smelled her favorite breakfast: oatmeal and bacon. I nodded, and got an affectionate head rub as she walked past. I reached for her leg, but she sidestepped with a giggle and went into the kitchen to eat. We moved in there to be with mommy, and kept playing with cars, trucks, planes, space ships, and some random alien monsters.

After she finished breakfast I told her that she had the day off. The boys and I have our 'boys' day out' planned, so she should just pamper herself. She beamed, told me I was getting luckier and luckier, and called to confirm her beauty shop appointment.

"Talk about wasted money; you at a beauty shop. You can't improve perfection," I say with feeling. She leans over to replace the phone, and holds that pose just long enough that she catches me looking at her lovely legs and fantastic ass when she peers over her shoulder. We smile knowingly, and she goes back upstairs: me watching lustfully, the vision with extra waggle in her walk.

The boys and I had fun all day, including a short shopping trip to purchase more toys, which we had to play with as soon as we got home, and a short nap. Mommy was gone for a long time, but I told them she had to get her haircut, get a mani-pedi, and a massage because we were going to a party tonight. They asked if they were going too, but I assured them this was a party for old people, so they were going to their grandparents; that last part cured the hurt looks I was getting.

Katy snuck in through the back door, slipped upstairs, called out that she would be taking a bubble bath and getting ready for the next two hours. She warned me be ready to go by 5:30 because the dance started at 7:30 and she wanted a good table; I gave her a "Yes, Mam" and laughed at her forcefulness.

The boys and I played in the sunny back yard for a while. Like their mom they had smiles that conveyed their happiness, and laughs that revealed their joy. Their hair was a light blonde, wavy like their mom's childhood pictures, and they were handfuls -- just like her!

At 4:15, I iced down two six packs and took the boys over to see Granny and Grampa. As I pulled up I saw her dad and three of his friends sitting outside drinking a beer, preparing to cook burgers, and visiting. Yes, it was December in Texas, but that just meant the highs were only in the 70s and nights got down to 50, so outside was the place to be.

I took the boys straight inside, shying away from the men because I didn't want to catch hell about the game.

The ladies told me how handsome my boys were, and vowed that they looked like the perfect combination of my wife and me. I thanked them, said my goodbyes and tried to sneak back past the men, who called me over. Surprisingly, perhaps because they were older, wiser, and more fatalistic, they laughed at my discomfort and said not to feel bad, it just wasn't meant to be -- bad calls, bad bounces, and, in a game of inches, we came up a little short.

Besides, we were three touchdown underdogs and dang near won, in spite of our vaunted defense giving up 42 points! My spirits lifted, because as offensive coordinator it was my fourth down call that came up a few inches short -- at least according to the bad spot by the officials. The game film proved we made it, damn it, but there's no replay in high school football until you get to the finals, so here we are sitting at home while our opponent plays for the championship!

They handed me a beer and said to let the little lady have time to get dolled up; apparently they knew all about our plans, but by now probably half the town did; hard place to keep secrets.

I had two beers, laughed along with them as they shared their perspectives on local events, and went back to the house feeling upbeat, hopeful, and excited. The thought of my loving wife planning this night to renew our bond and jump-start our sex life made me anticipate her ethereal presence even more than usual.

A friend who has known her since childhood characterizes her as 'all sweetness and light', which she interprets as meaning she's a good person who shines radiantly and lights people and places up when she appears. I'm not sure what he means, but her interpretation is certainly correct.

Sure enough, when I walk in the stereo is playing Conway Twitty, her favorite kind of sexy music, and she comes down the stairs in the shortest, sexiest little dress I'd seen in 4 years, wearing heels with straps around the ankle. I stare, taken aback by the vision she presents in what appears to be a mini wedding dress! It was solid white satin covered with lace, with lace sleeves. The neckline exposes the top of her luscious breasts, dripping in the center to offer a tantalizing view of the bow in the midst of her dainty lace demi bra, which supports her boobs but doesn't fully hide her areoles when she leans forward. Her honey blonde hair cascading in waves across her bare shoulders further accentuates the swell of her breasts.

The dress is just tight enough to emphasize her tiny waist before flaring over her hips. The hem stopped, modestly, about 3 inches above her knees -- but the last 4 inches were see-through lace, like the sleeves. She's only 5'7", but her slender and shapely dancer's legs look impossibly long when on full display, and they were, indeed, on full display.

She steps off the stairs and pirouettes for me. "Ta da" she exclaims as she finishes her spin, and the skirt flares out, exposing even more leg and a brief glimpse of white lace panties. Lots of people were going to be treated to some very sweet eye candy tonight!

On the other hand, I could take her back to the bedroom and we could skip the foreplay -- I was certainly ready, and she looked like she was too.

I asked her to do it again; she smiled, turned 180, looked over her shoulder, and asked coquettishly asked, "How does my butt look in this dress?" I stared at the round mounds protruding under the satin and lace, but failed to answer.

She broke my trance: "So, that good? I was hoping you'd have that look. Now, where's my drink?"

I continued to gawk while she smirked. I finally managed "Honey, you look stunning!"

I took my eyes off her long enough to go into the kitchen and make her favorite drink, a Colorado Bulldog. I opened a beer for myself, and noticed she had followed me into the kitchen. She twirled again and asked, "So you think I look all right?" I'm sure my eyes and the lump in my jeans had already spoken, but I answered "No, you don't look alright - you look stunningly beautiful! Where did you get that little dress? I sure don't remember seeing that one in the shops downtown."

She laughed. "Not hardly! I found it in Austin weekend-before-last, while you were working on the game plan all day."

I said "I love the heels too, but you always say you don't like to wear heels when we go dancing -- is there a change in plans? Are we just going to finish our drinks, dance to Conway, and go back upstairs, I hope?"

She giggled and said "Down big boy! No, of course not -- I just want to look good for you tonight, and I know you love it when I wear heels with a short dress." I nodded, "Hell yes. Your legs look just phenomenal."

She leaned forward, giving me a good look at her new pride and joys -- her newly endowed "mommy titties", which had grown from a small B cup to full C after two babies. She said "You don't think this is too low cut do you?"

I quickly noted that that her nipples pressed against the satin. Yes, her lovely alabaster orbs were on display, and I could see her quarter-size pink areoles and make out the darker pink nipples, which were surprisingly erect. Enthusiastically, I replied "Oh. Hell. No! You look absolutely perfect!"

She posed, winked, and said "Well, big boy, if you like what you see now, treat me right and you'll really like what you get to see later." OK, this is some really good stuff; my level of anticipation, and my woody, soared.

I slipped up behind her as she took a drink, put my hands on her hips, and kissed her graceful neck. It was a loving kiss, and she purred. My lips worked higher, toward her ear, and I bit gently on her lobe. She purred again. I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, let my hands roam across her flat stomach, and pressed lightly against that magnificent butt with my swollen cock; she pressed back.

Then she caught herself and said "No more hanky-panky before the dance!" I kissed her cheek, turned her mouth to me, and gave her a kiss that showed my true feelings while my hand roamed across the lace and satin covering her luscious butt.

"Baby, I appreciate your response, but we need to go NOW!" she protested.

Had I heeded her demand... but I just picked her up, set her on the island, and kissed her even more passionately. She moaned a little as I ran my hands up under her little dress on the outside of her thighs. When I got to her panties I reached under them and squeezed both cheeks of her butt. She moaned into my mouth and sucked my tongue. I dropped to my knees and began kissing up the inside of her left leg until I finally reached her tiny panties, which matched her dress -- white satin and lace.

I moved to her right leg and repeated. She leaned back on her hands and made little noises with her eyes closed. When I got back to her panties I tugged on them, telling her we should take them off because they were getting wet. She moaned nooooo but raised her hips. I quickly pushed her dress behind her and up around her waist, pulling her panties down until they were hanging on her foot. She looked positively stunning, and my mouth returned to her legs.