The Real Housewives of McKinney.

I was asked a while back to write about the housewives of McKinney, Texas, an upscale bedroom community north of Dallas. I declined to write about the ladies, my close friends, out of fear that I might be discovered. I was assured that if I didn’t give their true names, no one would know. Still. I was hesitant to write anything because, you know, ladies talk.

Then one of our group members decided she would start chronicling our discussions, so to beat her to the punch, I decided I’d write down our stories, often retold with great excitement every Monday when we meet at a local Starbucks.

There are five of us, Jane, Roxanne, Emily, Joanne and me, who shall remain nameless, for now. We all met on-line in a social media group and over a period of several months, we had many great discussions, so someone suggested we meet up in person. When we got together, it was as though we were all, already, good friends, having chatted and posting notes to one another in a social media chat, for several months. We knew the names of each other’s husbands, and their quirks, and the names of our kids and the schools they attended.

****

Within three weeks of forming our little club, I had managed to get to know two of the ladies in our five-member club, very intimately and by pure happenstance. I had also managed to hook two of them up with my horn-dog, cheating ass husband. I rationalized that if he was going to cheat on me, I might as well have some say and choice in his sexual partners.

At our weekly meeting, I tried to pin Roxanne and Jane down on their sexual fantasies without disclosing any of mine or outing the others and my recent mischievousness. Roxanne deferred to Jane. Jane then told us about a trip she had taken to Mexico and her meetup with a cabana boy, while she was a freshman in college.
 

“Details, details, details,” I pleaded. Jane was a bit bashful and quickly changed the subject, which was a bit frustrating.

After our meet up, I called Jane and invited her to join me for lunch. I had to meet with Jane one on one, because she was an enigma.

I quickly figured out that Jane was probably a closet bi-sexual.

“So, let me ask you something,” she asked, as we sat and sipped on some wine I had broken open to go with our cheese and cracker plate that I had fixed us. “How did you pick the four of us for this little club?”

“I picked the four prettiest friends I knew,” I said.

“So, are you attracted to any of us?” Jane pressed.

“Probably so,” I wistfully acknowledged.

“Sexually attracted?” Jane pressed.

“I dunno,” I shot back. “I might be.”

“Do you think I’m sexually attractive?” Jane asked.

“Well,” I replied, “You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity.”

“Are you bi-sexual?” Jane pressed.

“If you’re asking whether or not I have a preference,” I replied, “No, I don’t. If you’re asking whether or not I have been with another woman, the answer is yes.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“I guess I am what you call, bi-curious,” Jane replied, hand-brushing her long blond locks across her soft shoulders.

“Have you been kissed by another woman?” I asked.

“No,” Jane replied. She thought for a second and then amended her answer to say she had been kissed by friends, but not in a sexual way.

The wine had done its job, and I was completely relaxed. All my inhibitions were totally gone.

I asked Jane if she wanted me to kiss her. She stared back at me, for the longest time, not knowing what to say or how to respond. Sensing I may have overstepped my boundaries, I quickly apologized and said, “I should learn to manage my manners.”

Jane chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “You caught me off guard.”

We finished off the snacks and the wine, chatting about the other girls in the club. Jane then confided that she really liked Joanne a lot.

“She is so hot!” Jane declared. I had to agree with her assessment.

“Do you want some more snacks and wine?” I asked.

“Yes,” Jane replied. She followed me to the kitchen. As I grabbed a second bottle of wine from the lower drawer of the refrigerator, I could feel Jane standing closer to me, than normal.

“Do you want to do the honors? I asked, handing Jane the bottle of wine. Our hands touched, briefly, but the momentary but accidental touch was magical.

“You know,” Jane said slowly as she punched in the wine screw, "When you asked me earlier, if I wanted to kiss you, I didn’t know how to respond.”

I apologized a second time.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jane replied. “I’d be honored to be kissed by you.”

Jane’s declaration caught me off guard.

“Are you bi?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Jane replied. “I’m more bi-curious, than anything.”

I knew that feeling. I told Jane about my first bi-sexual experience.

“Did you tell your husband?” Jane asked.

“Oh, hell no,” I told her. “He’d mess things up, that horn-dog. He’ll fuck anything that walks and probably a few things that crawl as well.”

“So why do you stay with him?” Jane pressed.

“He’s good in a pinch when I need him and he helps to pay the bills,” I replied. It was the same general feeling all the McKinney wives had about their spouses.

As we chatted, we took up seats on the couch in the living room, sitting side by side. I gently placed my hand on to Jane’s leg as we chatted, to gage her reaction and to reassure her I was not really a domineering person. Jane glanced down at my hand and then she placed her hand on top of mine, gently stroking my hand as we chatted.

“You know,” I said, noting her gentle and not-so-subtle hand movement, “if you keep messing with my hand, there’s no telling where we might end up.”

Jane smiled. She looked straight into my eyes and softly pleaded, “Kiss me.”

I leaned in and softly pressed my lips to hers. Both of us had our eyes closed. The soft kiss then turned into a prolonged tongue probing kiss as we both reached out to embrace the love and the passion that needed to be shared. My hand found its way to her soft side, and her hand found its way to my rib cage as well, as one kiss after another became more deliberative and deeply more passionate. Jane worked her way to the nape of my neck, sending chills down my spine.

We stopped on briefly, to laugh.

“I wish my husband was this patient,” Jane declared. “He’s always in a big hurry.”

I had to agree. Sex should not be rushed but enjoyed.

Neither one of wanted to play the domineering role necessary to make a real relationship work. We were newbies, exploring new horizons and sharing in the experience.

Somehow, we both ended up with a serious case of the giggles. I don’t remember which one of us giggled first, but it got crazy after only a few minutes. I damn near peed in my panties.

“Stop it,” I pleaded to Jane. “You’re going to make me pee in my panties.”

“You’re wearing panties?” Jane pressed.

“Don’t tell me you’re not?” I quickly shot back.

“OK,” Jane replied, standing up and wiggling out of her jeans. “I won’t tell you. I’ll show you!”

Jane stripped out of her jeans and sure enough, she was without any underwear. She was also freshly shaved downstairs.

“Oh wow!” I declared. “Do you shave every day?”

“Almost,” Jane replied, spreading her legs shoulder width apart and working her finger-tips across the swollen lips of her fully exposed vagina.

“I bet your husband loves you!” I declared.

“Not nearly enough,” Jane disclosed. “I have to beg for oral sex and he’s way too rough.”

“I hear ya,” I replied, “Dan is the very same way.”

“What is it . . .” Jane asked rhetorically, “With guys who don’t want to eat pussy but they want their dicks sucked?”

I chuckled out loud, because I had been asking myself the very same question for years.

As Jane stood there, her pussy begging for attentiveness, I realized for the very first time in my life, a special feeling had come over me. I wanted to reach out and pull Jane in closer, but I was frozen in my beliefs that to do so, would some sort of gregarious sinful act.

Jane shifted her weight and stepped closer to where I was seated on the couch. Suddenly, without any warning, she launched herself on to my lap, her hands settling on to my shoulders as her pussy settled onto my lap. Jane flipped her hair back over her shoulder and pleaded for some special attention.

“Show me how much you care about me,” Jane pleaded, proffering a very pronounced wink. I slipped my hands on to her hips and then slowly inched them towards her crotch, as fixated my gage on her lovely blue eyes. She readjusted herself on my lap, allowing my fingers to inch closer and closer to her vagina. As inched my fingers closer to Jane’s pussy, her breathing changed from one of shallowness and anticipation to one of a more labored disposition.

I inserted a lone finger into Jane’s vagina, pressing gently against her clit. Jane’s eyes widened. She bit down on her lower lip and her grip on my shoulder became more intense. I knew I had hit pay dirt when Jane’s suddenly exclaimed, “Oh boy!”

Suddenly, Jane pushed me on to my back, launching herself between my spread open legs, after yanking my jeans and my panties from me. She jammed a lone finger into my aching vagina, working it feverishly back and forth against my clit. Oh-my-gawd! The first orgasm didn’t take but a few seconds. A second one followed after some more serious finger action. Oh-my-gawd times two.

Jane helped me out of my bra and then she lavished my aching tits were some serious kisses. Another orgasm followed.

I managed to get Jane’s bra unfastened and it quickly joined the growing heap of clothes on the hardwood flooring beside the sofa. Jane had the better set of boobs between us. While mine sagged because they were all-natural globes, Jane’s boobs looked perfect, perfect and fantastic! We each spent quite a few minutes sucking and massaging each other’s boobs.

Jane worked her way down my body, planting kisses on my abdomen and my erogenous area. I couldn’t hold back. I exploded so forcefully that try and summarize what transpired would not do it a just reward. My massive release didn’t bother Jane in the least, as she dove straight in and began to orally stimulate me all over again. Oh-my-gawd.

Nothing was off limits between us.

And of course, I had to reciprocate. Jane’s pussy begged to be touched, massaged and stimulated. I alternated between using my mouth, my tongue and my fingers to bring Jane to several cataclysmic, earth-shattering, body shaking eruptions and orgasms.

Exhausted and spent, we simply lay on the couch for the longest time, soaking up in the mutual admiration we had for one another. It would take several towels and some massive amounts of hot boiling water to clear the couch of all the smells and the evidence of our tryst.

I was surprised at how easy I had fallen into lust with another woman. Don’t get me wrong, I still like guys and the man in my life, but Jane brought an entirely different perspective to emotional and sexual satisfaction.

Jane said she was slightly confused by our deeply personal and intimate encounter and I admitted feeling the very same way.

“This," said Jane as we dressed, “this will take some getting used to.”

I apologized for over-stepping any boundaries.

“No, no, no,” Jane declared, “This is good. You are so very charming, polite, easy going, sexual and sensual, all at the same time. I only wish my husband had it together like you do.”

“Well,” I replied, “Let’s not tell our spouses and ruin a good thing.”

On that point, we readily agreed.