Thigh Power
“I know this is tremendously forward of me, but would it bother you terribly if my hand accidentally rested on the top of your beautiful thighs right now?”
by Nancy Fairchild
nancy.fairchild@hushmail.com
A year ago, when I was still in London, my husband, Brian, starting working on a complex legal issue that touched on a number of countries and overseas territories and the work was extremely confidential. It wasn’t the kind of confidential work that involved plans for rockets ships to the moon but the sort that touched on industry intelligence and financial matters.
OK, I’m blonde and sometimes things go over my head. After a brief email exchange with Brian, here’s a simpler explanation of what he was doing. He was preparing the prospectus for a private offering for something innovative and new. The technology developed was so innovative and the prospect of someone stealing the intellectual property was so great that extra precaution had to be undertaken. For your further information, a private offering is something like a stock offering but it’s not for public consumption. If you’re wondering what this has to do with my sex life, because you wouldn’t be reading this unless you were, I’ll get to that in a bit.
The truth is Brian is just one of my husbands. I have another one and a young lover who I am marrying next spring in Cyprus. That means I will then have three husbands. I didn’t set out to do that and I am aware it’s legally questionable. The three men in question are aware of each other but have never met and I don’t want them ever to meet. I don’t rank them in any order. I love them all and, judging by their willingness to stay faithful to me while only enjoying a portion of my time, they love me completely too. With the exception of Brian, who I proposed to, my other husbands insisted on marrying me with full knowledge of my situation. It gets complicated because I am now on three property deeds, I have three credit cards, three financial planners, two marriage certificates and one more on the way. It’s super confusing when someone asks me what my husband does for a living.
Why would two men want to marry a married woman? I guess the best explanation is they wanted to move from just being lovers to lovers for life and the only way to do that was to put an additional ring on my finger. How do you marry a woman who’s already married? You either bribe someone to turn a blind eye or you create documents that look legal but aren’t. All three of the men in my life are smart enough to figure out how to get around things.
At this time both of the other men in my life were out of town and Brian was overwhelmed with work. I was starved for attention. If you go from three to one, and that one is over worked, it’s a shock to the system.
Brian and I were having dinner one evening at Kensington Place Restaurant and he wasn’t the best company because he seemed irritated and distracted by something which further irritated me because I require total attention. That’s a big ask for a lot of men but they didn’t take it upon themselves to marry a really spoiled divorced Jewish American Princess. My husband did with his eyes wide open knowing exactly how morally flawed I am.
“Will you fucking pay attention to me,” I hissed at Brian, even before the appetizers were served. “I wore a particularly short dress just for you tonight.”
“No, you didn’t,” he replied, with a thin smile. “You wore a short dress tonight so every man in the room would be focused on your legs. You’re getting more like your mother every day. She can’t be in a room and not have everyone focused on her and you’re exactly the same.”
I was dumbstruck by that statement because the only reason Brian would ever bring up my mother is to get under my skin because that slut has barely concealed designs on him and he knows it. She calls and emails him every fucking day. Furthermore, he’s too nice to hang up on her or delete her emails. She and I don’t speak.
Brian has never picked a fight with me during our entire marriage and bringing up my mother was the best way in the world to raise my blood pressure.
“Why did you bring up the whore of Babylon?” I asked, sensing that there might a real underlying problem Brian was facing that he wasn’t telling me about. “There’s some kind of problem bothering you and I am not going to let it ruin our night. I’m blonde, so tell me about it.”
That brought the first smile of the night to my husband’s face. Brian was lightly touching his temple with his fingers as if massaging away a headache. I noted a couple of worry lines on his otherwise youthful face and that concerned me. I never delved into Brian’s business because I couldn’t possibly understand it. But his success brought happiness to me and it was another thing I could use to rub in my mother’s face. She warned me repeatedly about divorcing my ex-husband and marrying a gentile ten years younger than myself.
“I have to deliver some confidential documents to an offshore banking center and I don’t want to risk using a courier or a courier company, so I guess I’ll have to do it myself,” he replied. “That means a week away and leaving you alone in London and traveling while I am missing important work here.”
“Where do you have to travel to?” I asked, somewhat panicked by the prospect of Brian being away from me for an entire week. I can leave him, but he can’t leave me, that’s just the way our marriage works. I know he is home alone while I am away, but he had never left me alone in our home in London. I had never been in our apartment without his presence. The thought of that brought up the first feelings of insecurity I had ever felt since we married, and I don’t really deal with insecurity well.
“Bermuda,” Brian replied. “The problem is it’s not just a one-day trip. I would have to stay for five days because different people need to see the documents and I can’t leave the room while they read them.”
“No problem,” I replied. “I’ll do it. I know the Caribbean very well. I spend a month every year in Barbados with Patrick, so I am cool with doing it.”
“I hadn’t thought of using your local knowledge to help me,” Brian said with the thinnest smile I had ever seen appear on his face. “Bermuda isn’t in the Caribbean. It’s in the Atlantic Ocean.”
This is where a woman of my ability excels. Rather than argue geography with my husband, which was never a strong point of mine. I got up and sat next to him on the banquette and put his hand firmly on my inner thigh, a part of my body he has a particular affinity to because that’s where his head is most of the time on the nights we spend in bed with each other. I whispered into his ear, which is something that makes him literally melt.
“It will be an adventure for me and a naughty woman like me needs excitement in her life,” I said, softly in a coy voice I know he can’t resist. “I will email you each day I am gone and tell you what your slutty little wife is getting up to.”
Two days later I was on the 2:00 pm flight from Heathrow to Bermuda, in a window seat in business class sitting next to a rather attractive Dane who was fixated on my legs for the entire flight. I didn’t make it easier for him because, somehow, the hem of my skirt kept getting higher as the plane gained altitude. I knew he was trying to be polite but, at a certain point, I thought it was appropriate to break the ice.
“They’re serving us dinner soon, so when I pull down the tray you won’t be able to stare at my legs,” I said with a smile. “There’s other inflight entertainment to keep you occupied, though.”
“There’s really nothing else I find that interesting,” he replied, nonplussed by my comment. “The only thing better than the view I have now is if they installed a mirror to the back of the seat in front of you at just the right angle.”
A quick glance at his lap revealed the state of interest my next-door companion had developed in me, so I thought it best to at least introduce myself. In turn he told me his name was Elias and he was off to Bermuda to do some private banking for his family who owned factories in Jutland. He was younger than me, which I like, and he was handsome, which I like more, and judging by the lack of a wedding ring, he was single, which is a prerequisite of mine. I don’t flirt with married men, except with my husbands.
“Where are you staying in Bermuda?” Elias asked, glancing at my wedding rings. “A married woman has to be careful in Hamilton. It’s full of lotharios who prey on attractive women.”
“Really?” I replied with a coy smile. “Thanks for warning me. I’m staying at the Rosewood. They have security people at the door to keep out those types.”
“Actually, they don’t because I know of one notorious rogue who is staying there this week,” Elias said with a wide smile. “Just to keep you safe, we’ll have dinner at 8:00 pm at the Beach Club Restaurant and I’ll escort you to your room afterwards and tuck you into bed. Just to show a little appreciation for my concern, it would be nice if you dressed in a skirt that is even shorter than the one you are wearing.”
“The only thing I have with me that is shorter is a black leather dress that barely covers my thighs,” I replied. “I’m just worried that might look a bit slutty, particularly if I wear my black patent leather heels with it and red lipstick. What do you think?”
“I think that just might do the trick,” Elias replied as the hardness of his cock became more apparent under his trousers. “I know this is tremendously forward of me, but would it bother you terribly if my hand accidentally rested on the top of your beautiful thighs right now?”
“If it was really an accident and you didn’t mean to caress my legs, then I guess it would be rude to refuse,” I said, lifting his right hand and placing it on my inner thigh. “Oops, it looks like I’m the one who made the mistake. I’m sorry.”
To the absolute horror of the cabin staff, Elias and I did everything except fuck each other during the remainder of the flight. By the time we landed I was so consumed by lust I almost forgot to pick up my bags at the carousel and when I went through customs I could barely remember why I had come to the island in the first place. We shared a taxi to the hotel and I almost went down on him then and there, but we arrived too soon for that. We both checked in and I followed Elias to his poolside suite while the bellboy put my bags in my room.
We were so hot for each other our first fuck took only a couple of minutes. There was no foreplay, we had already done that for hours. The thought of using a condom never entered our heads. It was just fast hot sex, and he came deep inside my pussy. It was only afterwards that I noticed the doors to the pool area were open and we probably had quite an audience for our first sexual encounter, not that I really cared.
It was getting dark outside when I moved down on the bed to take Elias’s cock in my mouth. I had been thinking of doing that ever since he started caressing my thighs on the plane and moved his hand up to touch my wet pussy. I love making a soft cock hard with my lips and tongue. Brian is the only man in my life who has an aversion to allowing me to do that although he licks my clit and pussy with an enthusiasm no other lover of mine has. Elias had a really nice prick and, after I expertly made it hard, I drew it in me and told him to fuck me hard. He stood up on his knees and grabbed my thighs and started fucking me like a man possessed, tossing me around the bed like his personal fuck toy. My moans filled the room as the sound of our bodies slapping together echoed against the walls. I don’t know how long we fucked but I know he came inside me for the second time even more forcefully than the first.
It’s pretty nice being a woman if you are as amoral as myself. I love sex and I love being fucked well. I don’t need an emotional attachment with someone to make it complete. Sex for sex works for me and being in a marriage that gives me the freedom that I have is the only way it would work. Meeting a man like Elias, seducing him on a plane and ending up in a hotel bed and having great sex with him is something I would never have experienced if I was in a conventional marriage.
I know some people might consider me easy and they’re right. If a handsome man pushes my buttons, then I don’t need a long courtship. Fortunately, for the other men in my life, it doesn’t happen that often and there’s only one man I really share everything with and that’s Brian. The other two loves of my life are a little sensitive about my promiscuity.
A lot of things in my life just happened without any forethought or planning on my part. I married a man ten years my junior who turned out to be very financially successful and gave me the life I have. I wasn’t looking for that, but it just happened. My other husband is equally successful as is my husband to be and they are committed to my happiness, so it didn’t surprise me when Elias told me he wanted to spoil me during our time in Bermuda. I am so used to getting spoiled I would be shocked if I wasn’t. Only a really spoiled woman would make that statement.
We went out to dinner that night and I wore the black leather dress and heels and looked about as out of place as a hooker in the Vatican. I hadn’t realized what sort of crowd the island attracts. It’s not Ibiza by a long shot. It’s sort of the American equivalent of Madeira, where women of a certain age go to sip sherry. The looks I got, dressed the way I was, with a young lover’s hands all over me, were actually hilarious.
I am used to London prices which are only just behind those of New York, but the menu prices in the restaurant we dined at that night put both cities to shame. I actually let out a laugh when I saw the absurd cost of a half Maine lobster, so I let Elias order for me.
The next five days went by too quickly. I took my husband’s documents to a bank in the morning and sat silently while they were read and left wordlessly when they were finished and then I went back to the hotel, had lunch, had sex and then let Elias show me around the island. He found one fairly chic shop and attired me in a range of thigh revealing skirts, tops and expensive shoes and took me to a jeweler and I let him buy me some diamond stud earrings. I didn’t tell him how many pairs I had at home just like them, but I did give him a really nice blow job on a secluded beach afterwards.
It was a lot of fun and we extended the trip by one day just so we could prolong our time together. I had a crush on him, and he was infatuated with me, but we knew there was an end date. We took the flight back together to London and he kept his hand on my thigh throughout. He sends me a Christmas gift every year and I send him a card and we talk occasionally on the phone and I’ve flown to Copenhagen a couple of times since and have spent the weekend with him. He’s finally getting married next year, and he’s invited me to the wedding and I’m going to go but I’ll drag along my husband to be with me instead of Brian. I hope he allows his new wife to have the same life of adventure my husbands have given me.
