In this new routine, Clare left messages on my flat answering machine for me or Sarah to call her back, wherever she may be. With it now free of charge, we made full use of it, as there were never any questions asked by Nigel, the company's owner. He told me to use it, knowing I was working too many hours and that it was going to take a while before the new employees were to come online.

Speaking to Clare on the phone every night wasn’t ideal, as I would rather have seen her in the flesh. But at least the three of us remained in touch, and of course, there were always our weekends...

Then there were my parents. The first time they both came over to see my now-furnished flat, Sarah and I greeted them. There was a tour, a cup of tea, and then a chat before they left. It seemed they were now satisfied that I had done the right thing. No one brought up Clare or explained why they had already converted my old bedroom at my parent's house into a dining room.

With the factory where I worked now close to where I lived, I chose to normally walk the ten-minute distance. On my return journey, I would knock on the downstairs flat front door. It became another routine as I wanted to introduce myself to the downstairs tenant. However, despite the letting agent telling me the apartment was occupied, there was never any answer, and I came to assume the occupiers were on a very long holiday.

As for Sarah and me, we spent every evening, apart from Wednesdays, snuggling up together in my flat. Most of the time, we were simply enjoying each other's company and getting to know each other, perhaps even more than we did in Crete.

Once again, Sarah told me that our future could perhaps include Clare. But she just needed time—maybe even a lot of time to adjust. She reminded me that living in a village wasn’t always great, as everyone knew each other’s business.

There was no doubt that both Clare and Crete had energised Sarah. She was still beautiful, warm, and caring, but now she was completely open about the way she felt—there were now no secrets between us as a couple. I was not complaining, but she seemed always horny, and it felt like every time we were alone in the apartment together, she wanted sex with me.

By Friday of the second week, we had managed to have sex in all of the rooms, including the stairs and the landing. With a giggle, Sarah was pushing to do it inside the front porch as well as on the balcony.

As you could see from the road, I vetoed the porch, but the landing remained open for discussion. I left it with a grin and a “we will see.” These were the very same three words that Sarah often used when she didn’t want to commit to something I suggested. 

And there was Sarah’s changing style of clothes. Her Crete dresses were soon joined by a draw full of sexy lingerie, which I hoped she would wear for me.

When I asked, she said, “Who else would it be for?” But then she gave me a cheeky look and a wicked grin, just to keep me unsure. With our new, agreed-upon, open relationship, I knew her question could have more than one answer.

There was one other thing...

Sarah proved herself right when she told Clare and me that she didn’t mind walking around in the nude. She bought herself a short, satin, pink kimono dressing gown with a floral pattern on it. In the evenings, when it was just the two of us, Sarah usually stripped off, showered, and changed into it.

I never once complained about having my beautiful blonde, eighteen-year-old girlfriend walking around in the near-nude. Even if she spent half her time deliberately teasing me, getting my cock yo-yo-ing up and down. 

However, during those first flat-renting weeks, there was one thing she regularly brought up: when was I going to purchase an adult contact magazine?

*****

It was with some trepidation that I entered the newsagents in a shady part of a large local town. To get there, I had driven southwest for thirty minutes, well away from the forest, the city, and where I lived and worked. I did not want the chance to bump into anyone that I might know. 

It only took a quick look up at the magazine rack’s top shelf and a scan along the line of adult publications to confirm that they sold exactly what I was looking for. I reached up, and my sweaty hand grabbed one copy of both quarterly adult contact magazines that sat there. With a brief look from the Asian man behind the counter, I paid the five pounds I owed, and he discreetly placed them into a brown paper bag.

With no immediate urge to look at them, I tucked them into my bedside drawer. I thought it would be best if Sarah and I read them together on Friday night when she'd be staying over.

This was a big step for us and our relationship. We needed to talk about what Sarah wanted to do. I was still uncertain. Crete had been more spontaneous—a mixture of being away from home, the holiday atmosphere, and even the alcohol we had consumed. It felt real here at home, and this time we were actively planning to share Sarah with another woman.

We may have dipped our toes into the water in Crete, but sharing someone you love was not easy, and I knew we needed to set some rules and continue our newfound excellent communication. But above all, I needed to make sure there was no possibility I would be sharing Sarah's heart with anyone except perhaps Clare.

I knew that before we went through those magazines, we needed to talk.

*****

It was Friday night, and our earlier talk with Clare confirmed that she was going with Brenda to Rainbows; it was the city’s best-known lesbian bar.

After the phone call, Sarah and I retired to our bedroom. She dressed in her pink kimono, me naked, each of us carrying our second glass of wine.

Sarah thought we were about to have sex, and she was right, but just a little later than she anticipated as first, we needed to talk.

I pulled out the brown paper bag from the bedside table and showed Sarah the two adult contact magazines. The first one was bright yellow and titled Adult Contact UK. The second one was red and titled Experience. They both had scantily dressed models on the front cover. 

Sarah looked at me and grinned. “Two... David, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, far from it,” I light-heartedly replied, thinking how nervous I had been going into the shop yesterday. I only planned to do that once!

“Maybe you should purchase the next one?” I then suggested, now sounding just like I was trying to get rid of her. 

“Yeah, right, I am sure you would go back again if I asked you to!”

I wasn’t so sure. I knew it would take time to forget that feeling of being watched when I bought them. That was the main reason I had purchased two.

There was also something else that was bothering me... We hadn’t yet told Clare of our plans to use an adult contact magazine to find an older woman for Sarah, to satisfy her desire to answer the ongoing question as to whether she was truly bisexual.

It was yet another secret we were keeping from Clare, just like Sarah’s payment for sex with Kurt. I didn't like that; we needed to discuss it, among other things. However, the main one was that I needed to be reassured that what we were doing was right for Sarah and us.

I just couldn’t forget Clare’s previous comments to me. She told me I was meant to be protecting Sarah, and perhaps more significantly, that Sarah wasn’t her.

Sometimes it felt like a conundrum. I wanted to keep both my girlfriends... as my girlfriends. However, Clare insisted she wanted to be out partying with other women, and now I found Sarah wanted to do something similar, though discretely.

Could I just say no? I questioned myself. I didn’t think so.

My gut instinct told me we must maintain sexual equilibrium if I wanted to keep both girlfriends. That is why I eventually purchased these adult magazines to help Sarah. Treat her as I did Clare, and I thought, at least we were further exploring Sarah’s sexuality together.

I reasoned that it was my other girlfriend, Clare, who was doing her own thing!

Sarah reached for a magazine, but I held it out of reach of her straining, outstretched hand.

"Look, Sarah,” I said. "I need to discuss a few questions with you, as I require some reassurance."

“Okay, what do you want to know?” She enthusiastically said, her eyes flicking between the magazines and me.

“First, what do you want to get out of this?”

Sarah giggled, “Several orgasms.”

I laughed.

She then added, “For me to have sex with another, older woman, silly.”

I told her that I needed a little more.

With a sigh, Sarah once again went through her sexual history, most of which I already knew. However, there was one thing that I did pick up on. When she was with Jerry, she told him that she wasn’t interested in dating boys her age and never had been. She preferred older men, Jerry’s age, or maybe girls.

I was taken aback when she revealed this to me, as I had assumed I was the first to be aware of Sarah being bisexual. I needed to clarify.

“Nothing happened, David. It was just before I discovered I was pregnant that Jerry suggested trying something like a threesome. It was only one quick conversation; remember our relationship was only sexual and completely clandestine.”

We looked at each other, I believed her, and I softly said, “I know it was a difficult time for you, Sarah, but can you explain, as I am not sure we should do this?”

While I wanted Sarah to explore her bisexual side, just like Clare was currently doing, I also needed to make sure she was ready for this. Though I was no doctor, I didn’t think her recent depression was an issue, as she seemed happier than ever, and of course, she also had me!

However, we had no idea whom we might meet, whether it would be a couple or a single lady, and then at some point, we would need to tell Clare.

That was something I was not looking forward to!

“David, I need this. Maybe Jerry manipulated me, but that is in my past. I have grown up, and I now know what I want. We both know what Clare is doing, and I want something similar; just a further taste... I wear my anklet!”

Those last words had me smiling. Sarah wearing an anklet was the agreed-upon symbol that we were now in an open relationship, and she always wore one when we were actively looking to sexually play with others. 

As for Jerry, there was no maybe; he had controlled Sarah. However, my girlfriend was right; that was in the past, and now we were looking towards the future together. We needed girlfriend equilibrium, so I passed Sarah the Adult Contact UK magazine while I thumbed through the equally packed, eighty-five-page Experience publication.

I scanned the pages and noticed that the front half of the magazine was just a couple of poorly written stories accompanied by mainly black-and-white photos of naked models. However, the second half of the magazine was far more interesting. It was called the Contact Bureau, and as its title suggested, it was full of people advertising themselves.

The first section was the biggest. It was made up of hundreds of couples with various codes and instructions as to what they were looking for. Among the written advertisements, there were many black-and-white photos, mostly of half-dressed or naked ladies with their faces obscured.

With the ages on the adverts, it surprised me that a high portion of the couples who advertised were in their twenties to early forties. I had expected the age demographic to be somewhat older, and it made me wonder how accurate these ads were. 

As I browsed through, I noticed that every advertisement had an age, a county location, and what they were looking for sexually. It was also pleasing to see that well over half the women had AC/DC in the advertisement, which meant they were bisexual and looking for another couple with a similar bisexual lady.

There were other sections too: men looking for women, couples, or other men. Surprisingly, there was an even larger section for women looking for men. It took me some time before it twigged; a lot of these were professional ladies, even though it said no fees.

Then I found what we were looking for—women seeking other women. It wasn’t the biggest section—only three pages, including half a dozen photos—but it was a start.

I noticed Sarah was fidgeting as she sat next to me. After a glance in my direction, she removed her kimono dressing gown and threw it on the floor.

As she did so, she said, “Hot,” as if that explained all.

I looked at her and grinned.

“What!” she exclaimed as she saw me grinning.

We both knew what my girlfriend wanted to do. It was one of Sarah’s most intimate secrets. She had admitted to me on several occasions that she masturbated all the time. Typically, she either watched herself in her full-length bedroom mirror or over the photos of the nude models in one of the adult magazines she borrowed from her parents.

I moved and sat facing Sarah, my torso between her outstretched legs, her bald and now slightly open pussy, facing me. I could see she was already wet.

“I think I will join you.”

They were words that caused Sarah to smile and drop her hand between her legs. 

I joked, "Don't cum on the magazine; I don't want any sticky pages." I wrapped my hand around my increasingly hardening cock and slowly started to fist it.

Sarah giggled at my comment but didn’t nudge me, as her eyes had already returned to her magazine’s pages.

Though I had seen Sarah masturbate before, we had never done it mutually, because, until tonight, I felt it was mainly a private thing to do.

My eyes never left my girlfriend as she slowly started to rub her nub, making slow rotations as she gently applied tiny amounts of circular pressure, then a quickening of her fingers before dipping them into her increasingly wet hole.

I gently stroked my cock as I watched Sarah, her pussy glistening and our hands, our fingers pleasuring our own bodies.

“Do you see anything you like?” I asked, my eyes still on my girlfriend's engorged opening.

“Ah,” she mumbled. Her eyes and mind were still on the pages.

I picked up my magazine and stared at its contents. The photos were now blurry, and the writing had no meaning as my mind remained with Sarah. All I wanted to do was watch my girlfriend masturbate and then for us to cum together. 

I once again took in Sarah; she was in her own little world. My eyes then dipped down to between my girlfriend's spread legs, and they bore into her engorged pussy, its inner pinkness there for all to see. Little droplets of moisture hung on the edges, its internal wetness producing faint slurping sounds as my girlfriend’s fingers swirled and then dipped into its sweetness.

I tightened the grip on my cock, my hand now pumping it harder, my mind now switching to the timing of my ejaculation, my eyes targeting its landing.

Small spasms rippled through Sarah’s body, and her skin turned a little red as she rubbed away, her hand now in a crescendo of movement. 

It felt energising—watching my girlfriend masturbating. Her legs were wide open, and the blood flowed to her ever-expanding hairless pussy, its wetness trickling downwards towards her rosebud.

The magazine dropped from Sarah’s hand, temporarily forgotten. Her eyes glazed, yet she looked at me, my cock pointing at her.

I pumped harder; I didn’t want to miss the end of our mutual masturbation show. I edged, then stroked, and my eyes found my target: Sarah’s tits. 

Her fingers slipped into her cunt. It was awash and now more of a ravenous hole. Below it was her brown, puckered opening, like the bed, which was soaked by the continuous stream of Sarah’s womanly essence.

She gurgled and then moaned louder, “Oh, fucckkk... Oh, fucckkk.”

My girlfriend’s body went rigid, her skin blushed, and her legs tried to close as she squeezed me.

She was cumming, and so was I.

With a final pull, my cock erupted, and my jism flew through the air. The first and largest squirt went the furthest; it landed on Sarah’s chest. The others that followed left a trail down her body; the last one was nothing but a dribble that joined my girlfriend's puddle as it pooled and then soaked into the bed. 

We sat there, panting, as we came down from our sexual high. Both of us were quite literally drained.

As we recovered, I asked. “Did you see anyone you liked?”

Sarah warmly smiled. “Those magazines are interesting, but I never had the chance to read that much.”

“You read enough,” I chuckled. 

“What got you so worked up... the photos?” I questioned.

“Yes, to start with. But there was something else.”

“What?” I quickly asked.

“You might not like it.”

I continued to look at the naked Sarah, wondering but also taking in her erotic sight. Her legs were still spread, her cunt was still wet, pink, and open, and her body was frosted with my drying sperm.

“It was the adverts, David. There were hundreds of women advertising themselves. Even though they said there were no fees, it was obvious that they were charging money in return for sex.”

I smiled. We both knew that being paid for sex was Sarah’s second biggest sexual fantasy. It came close to her first, being with another woman. 

“I noticed that too,” I said. “There were a lot of them advertising in my magazine, but why won’t I like that?” 

“Well, it just got me thinking... If I did it again for money, then I have got a little gold mine between my legs.”

I was unsure how to take that revelation. So I resorted to my normal failsafe: humour. I chuckled, “From here, it looks more like an open-cast pit.”

I then dived onto my naked girlfriend before she had time to react to my observation.

With the drying sperm all but forgotten, we rubbed our naked bodies together and giggled as Sarah desperately tried to nudge me. 

Our giggling turned to wrestling, then kissing, as my cock once again hardened. It wasn’t long before we were making love, my cock deep within Sarah’s gold mine.

We made love, and I once again reminded Sarah how much I loved her. Our copulation was slow and demonstrative.

However, in the back of my mind, I wondered how long it would be before Sarah asked me once again to get the gold anklet out.

And if she did, there was something even worse to consider...

What were we going to tell Clare?

Authors Note: All characters engaged in sexual acts are 18+ ©2024 wxt55uk. This story may not be reproduced in any manner without the express permission of the author.