The Tipping Point

The Tipping Point [part 1 of 5]
By: Van Horne

Author's note: All rights reserved by the author, 2005. This story may not be reposted to any other commercial or noncommercial Web site, and may not be reproduced for profit or commercial use, or made available to any for whom its possession would be illegal or inappropriate, particularly minors. If you are not 18 or over, or if you are not of legal age in any state or province for the reading of erotic material, please stop reading immediately. This story is for adults only.

The inspiration for the story was a recent caller to a TV program called "Sex with Sue"; this caller had been quite happily married for some years, but had practically no libido - she had sex only because it gave her husband pleasure.

*****

It was like whoever or whatever designed my body forgot some of the software. I mean, I knew all about the fact that other people thought about sex all the time, and got horny, and had daydreams and fantasies and sexy plans for the end of the evening, the weekend, the vacation.

Me? When it came to downtime, I liked the down-home pleasures. When it came to parties, I liked the social aspect. The good food, the jokes, the conversation, the friendship. For dating, I liked the quiet times, the caring, the gifts, the excitement of being seen with a cute boy when all my friends had their own cute boys.

I soon learned that my friends were on a different planet. They talked all the time about daring stuff, and going to first or second base, and how badly tempted they were to do this or do that. I just thought it was, well, amusing. Sort of like they had an animal side at times, a side that I just didn't have.

I did my share of saying NO and pushing hands away. When a boy was really nice, I would let him go far enough that he would think I was normal. That was my biggest fear, to tell the truth - that my friends would think that it was ME who was weird. And I was afraid the guys would start talking about me as some kind of twisted sister, the ice queen, the frigid bitch.

I met Bobby in my second year at University. The nicest, most gentle, most gentlemanly guy I'd ever met. Great to talk to, lots of jokes, and wild stories about everyone but himself. Like me, he hardly did anything wild, but heard and saw lots of wild and crazy stuff that happened to his buddies. At the end of our dates, Bobby was a bit like the other guys, but not as desperate. He wanted to touch, explore, and all that stuff. So... I let him. It felt nice.

A year later, on the anniversary of our first date, I let him go all the way. It hurt a lot. I was as tough a virgin as they come. I can honestly say I hadn't even played with myself in all those years. It was Bobby's first time too, and he felt kind of guilty about hurting me, but afterwards he was obviously on Cloud Nine. About the fourth time we did it, I felt pretty good. I think I had an orgasm, and said to myself, "Thank God - I'm normal".

Bobby and I both got business degrees, and planned to start our own little marketing outfit. After we got married of course, which we did the summer after graduation. We got a nice little company going, and decided not to have kids. We had a great house on a ravine lot, a swimming pool, and good friends, though I must say they were a little too wild at times.

Because we were all young and, mostly, pretty good-looking, the talk just as often as not would turn to sex. I knew from all the stories and jokes and the magazines I read that my sex life wasn't anything like theirs. I didn't see why I should do anything about it. Bobby seemed perfectly happy, and I didn't really think I was missing anything. I didn't need the animal side. I didn't need to go crazy, to talk about going crazy, to tell stories about how I'd almost gone insane for the male stripper at a bachelorette party or for Russell Crowe with his shirt off or the hunky pool cleaner, etc. etc.

About seven years into the marriage, Bobby started getting a little kinky in bed. I mean, he wasn't into tying me up or forcing me to wear hooker's lingerie or anything like that. He just wanted to talk about sexy things while we were having sex. I'd be on my back, as usual, and his mouth would be close to my ear as he was about to come. I'd help him get to his climax by moving my hips, feeling good, liking the fact that I was making HIM feel good. Sometimes I'd feel a kind of extra pressure, like something was about to bust wide open. My heart would race, and then I'd feel Bobby splash me with his little Mr. Happy, and I'd have what I thought was an orgasm.

As I was saying though, Bobby started saying things when he got close to cumming. He'd ask if I liked it when some other guy was dancing with me at the party. Did I let the guy cop a little feel of my sexy little body? Or Bobby would say he wanted to make it with me in the woods behind our house, and let some other couple see me naked. A bunch of times he said he wanted to be two guys, so that one Bobby could take me from the front and the other Bobby would be rubbing me all over from behind.

The first couple of times he did this I told him to stop being silly. Then I realized he really was into it, and that it helped him get to the end a lot faster than he usually did. So I went along with it. I knew it was the same simple thing a lot of other couples did. The stories were fantasies. They were sex aids, like keeping your body in good shape, and wearing sexy clothes. The only problem was that Bobby told me a couple of times, in all seriousness, that he thought it would be great if I really did flirt more at our parties. And by flirting, he didn't just mean engaging in a bit of racy talk. He said he thought it would be truly awesome if I got carried away somehow. Not going too far, maybe, but far enough that I let some other guy's hand stray, or gave a little tongue to some guy for a goodbye kiss, and stuff like that.

When he was in the heat of passion, though, it was like he was telling me something else. Like, it would be fucking awesome to him if I got totally carried away. Like, if I let some guy get naked with me, or slip his hands inside my panties. As usual, I played along just enough to let it ride. I knew I just wasn't built for that kind of speed. Other people had gigabytes of that kind of software, and all I had was a few bits and bytes of an older, softer line.

Near the end of July, we threw a big poolside party. Bobby was leaving for a week-long sales trip the following day, a Thursday, and this was as good an excuse as any to get a gang together. It was the usual. Lots of good food, lots of wine and beer, laughter, good stories. Earlier that day, Bobby had convinced me to wear my hot-pink two-piece. In company, I always wore my black one-piece to cover up my 36C's, and I usually wore a light, mid-thigh cover over that. I was really nervous when the guests started to arrive. They were all going to think I was half-naked. That I wanted to look slutty. But they all changed right away into their own bathing suits, most of which were a lot more daring than mine, and so I started to relax. On top of that, I got a lot of comments on what great shape I was in. I even left off my wrap for an hour here, an hour there. No one could have known what I was feeling, not even Bobby. I felt I was really taking a walk on the wild side. In my own mind I felt practically naked, that I was being a very daring exhibitionist. I was doing all this for Bobby - it was never something I'd do on my own.

We had a great outdoor sound system, and as the twilight turned into night-time, and as the evening started to wear down, the couples tended to spend less time in circulating and networking and more time on the side of the patio we set up as the dance floor. There were lots of pleasant shenanigans. Couples were splitting up and cutting in on other couples, and there was joking about who Mrs. X or Mr. Y was going home with.

I was in the middle of a dance with Bobby, when a single guy from our main delivery service asked to cut in. Of all the guys at the party, I thought he was the cutest. Apart from Bobby of course. This guy, Jake Embree, was about 7 inches taller than Bobby, who was the same height as me. Jake was a lot more buff, too. He was the kind of guy that, when you looked at him, you had to think about his body, because he obviously wanted it that way. That's not to say he was vain, or that he didn't have anything to say. He told a good story, and knew some good jokes. He was also a great athlete, which he proved by winning the fancy dive competition an hour ago with a triple flip and rip entry.

Jake said, "Hey, Bobby. Stop hogging your wife." Bobby laughed, and gave my hand to Jake just as a long slow song started. I felt a sudden panic. It wasn't that I'd never danced with another guy. It was just that I'd taken off my wrap when I started my dance with Bobby, and now I felt even more naked in my hot-pink two-piece with a string tie at the back. I know, I was covered up a lot more than most of the other women on the floor, but I was different. I felt differently about this stuff.

Jake started off by talking about what a great party it had been, and how beautiful the night air was, and stuff like that. None of the goofy flirting that everyone else seemed to be into, and that helped me relax. Then something else happened.

I realized I had felt a bit panicky for another reason. It was something about Jake, some kind of electric force field coming out of his whole personality and his body. I'd read about this, and heard stories about it, but it was always something that happened to other women. When his hand curled round the muscles of my lower back, and put a very light pressure on them, to move me closer to him, I felt my skin light up. It was like he was applying some kind of neon magnetic heat pad, with a kind of tickle to it. As his hand moved over my back, or touched my sides, I was incredibly sensitive, half like being tickled, and half like something else, something that made me feel lively.

Part of me wanted to laugh, and part of me wanted to quit the dance floor on the spot. The pressure was making me dizzy. I rested my head on Jake's chest, his nipple inches from my mouth. I could see it harden under my breath, and I could feel my own breasts mash into his ribs, the fronts of our thighs brushing as we shuffled slowly from side to side. I felt a kind of pain in my groin, a light prickling pain, the kind you feel when your foot has fallen asleep and starts coming back to life. For a while I felt like I had to go to the washroom; a spring of something warm and wet seemed to be melting and trickling into me.

I was still moving with Jake when the song ended, and he said, "We better wait for the next song before we start dancing again."

"Oh," was all I could say, as if I was three sheets to the wind, and then we both laughed. The next song started up right away, and for a couple of seconds, before another couple blocked my view, I saw Bobby watching us from the far side of the pool, hoisting a beer to me with a big grin. The song must have been a popular one, because suddenly it seemed as if everyone left at the party was on the dance floor, and Jake and I were shuffled off to a back corner, just at a place where a few steps could lead a person round to the back side of the pool shed. Jake said with a soft smile, "I think I'm in heaven, Julie." I said, "Why's that?" And he said, "Well, call me corny, but... but it's a beautiful night, and in my arms I've got the most beautiful woman in town."

When I replied, I stuttered a bit. It was just about the flirtiest thing I'd ever said to anyone other than my husband in my life, "Well, I have to admit, you, you're a long cool drink yourself, in a nice-looking bottle." Jake responded by brushing his lips along the top of my forehead, and squeezing me more closely. His thigh brushed against my mons, sending a shock wave through me from head to foot and back again. Instead of shocking me back to reality, though, I now did the wildest thing I'd ever done in my life. I touched my lips to Jake's little nipple, giving the hard bud the faintest squeeze between my lips. No one but Jake and me knew what had happened. I felt another shock as I felt his manhood rise against me, pressing up from his bathing shorts against my navel.

Jake said, "Now look what you made me do." I laughed, but at the same time I was frightened. What if someone saw him like that? Saw his hard on? I pressed closer to help him hide it, but that just seemed to make him bigger and harder. My mind was racing. I had to save face, but I was curious. Jake seemed to be enormous. Either that or he had a fat snake stuffed down that suit. Jake said, "We have a second problem. I think the string of your bra is undone. I'll keep the two ends pressed to your back, so no one notices." For the first time in my life, I had a genuinely wild fantasy - I had a sudden image of being at a party where everyone was naked, and Jake was dancing with me.

I said, thinking quickly, "Let's move closer to the shed. That's right. Another step this way, and... aha, no one can see us." We were behind the shed, but we were still dancing. Jake said, "I'm about to tie your top back on, but... just before I do..." He moved his lips close to mine, and I let him start a kiss. Again, I had that feeling of some kind of neon electric shockwaves pulsing through me. Then I did something totally shocking. I stepped back from Jake, so that my top dangled loosely over my breasts. It was an invitation, and Jake took it, running his electric hands up my ribs and onto the sides of my breasts, then softly brushing my nipples with his fingertips. I said, "Thanks. Thank-you for a wonderful dance." He touched me so sweetly, so gently, so sexily. I wanted it to go on, and on, but I came to. "I have to run now. Quick, tie me up." Jake just kept saying stuff like, "Wow. Outstanding. Tell Bobby I'm moving in." But I left him standing there with his ridiculously big hard on, and I went looking for Bobby.

In bed that night, for the first time, I couldn't wait for Bobby to get on top of me. I didn't even mind when he wanted to talk dirty. In fact, I wanted him to. What was getting into me?

Bobby said, "I saw you dancing with Jake. Did you let him cop a little feel?"

"Now, Bobby. You and your imagination."

"Well, did you?"

"Well... maybe." Hearing this, I could feel Bobby suddenly get a little harder, a little thicker. He said, "Did he sneak a little feel of your perfect little butt?"

"Mmmm. I think... maybe he did. Maybe he ran his hands under my bikini."

"Omigod, Julie. You are such a hot creature." I wanted Bobby to get to the point where he calls me his lovely little slut, because that's what I was feeling like, and I kept remembering how Jake's touching made my whole body feel like it was waking up from some kind of big sleep.

"That's not all he did."

"Omigod, Julie. There's more? Tell me." Bobby was pushing a little faster now, a bit erratic in his excitement.

"Well... He got a hard on from dancing with me, so we had to go behind the shed to hide it."

"Mmmm, you're so hot."

"Then he undid my string. He ran his hard hands over my soft breasts."

I was matching the thrusts of my own hips to Bobby's. I'd only done that in the past to get Bobby faster to his pleasure, but now for one of the first times in my life I was doing it without really thinking, just like an animal in heat. Bobby said, "Ohhh... you are such a lovely... little... slut!" Then I felt Bobby explode inside me, filling me with what seemed like the biggest number of hot splashes he'd ever given me. Something good kind of broke inside me, too, but...

I wasn't sure what it was. I felt as if there was a longer road to travel. Don't get me wrong - I felt as good as I'd ever felt after sex, but something told me I could be heading for bigger, wilder, better.

As he collapsed in pleasure beside me, Bobby asked, "You didn't really let old Jake run his hands over your naked breasts, did you?" I didn't know how to answer, and Bobby took that as a sign that something really did happen. "Omigosh," he said, "something really did go on between you and Jake."

"Hush up, baby. You go to sleep now."

"Hey, I won't push it, sweetheart. It's OK. I like the idea of you flirting. We all have a wild side." And then he fell asleep, trying to hold me. I spent the evening tossing and turning, imagining a scenario where everyone left the party except Jake, and he and I danced in the neon heat of electric touch until dawn.