Leave it to her beaverThe 1950s was a swinging time.

Based on a post by mydeepsix. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Forward:

 People think the 1950s were a prudish, almost Victorian time, the "Leave it to Beaver" era of "Separate single beds for married couples", but that is so untrue. In a well-crafted effort to convince society to embrace the television, Hollywood moguls heavily censored the studios to leave out any hint of sexuality. Networks were hiding sex, and so were communities across the nation. But every town had countless social groups who collaborated in mutual sexual kinks. Here’s a tale from my early years.

Homecoming.

I arrived home from an overnight business trip early one afternoon, just as the lawn boy was peddling away on is bicycle. Bobby, shirtless, young, blonde kid working the summer to pay for next semester at city college. The lawn looked great, I noticed the hedges were freshly trimmed.

My wife Maureen was waiting for me, dressed in a housecoat and pink fuzzy slippers. "Welcome Home!" she said, kissing me on the cheek. I turned and kissed her on the mouth, surprising her a little, I think, but kissing her deeply. She hesitated at first, then kissed me back with gusto. I thought I detected a musky scent on her breath, for a moment, but then she reached between us and ran her fingers over my trousers to tug my growing cock, and I quickly forgot about it. "Can't wait until tonight, Mister, so I can welcome you back properly!" she chided me.

"The lawn looks great!" I said, as she twirled off. "A home maker does what she can; I think Bobby did an especially good job today." She said, with a wicked grin, before disappearing into the kitchen.

 Then she came back into the living room with an icy martini and handing it to me, saying "Marge from 21st street said that when she gives him a blowjob, he trims her hedges for free." She said, in a feigned serious tone. I smiled. Marge is a famous slut, locally. Married, but lusty. Her retired husband liked to fish, She likes young men.

We were married since she was 19. Maureen was the sexiest woman I had ever met. She grew more sensual and beautiful with each passing year. She seldomly ovulates, so we rarely deal with menstruation inconveniences.

For a few years we tried having a baby. It was not to be. So for the past 7 years we assumed we couldn’t. But on the bright side, we didn’t need condoms.

I’m well-hung and carry a big sack. Maureen and I loved fucking at least 4 nights a week.  I traveled overnight for business, 2 or 3 days a month. I had weeklong travel events at least twice each year.

I was still classy and skilled enough to easily pick up a lady or two, usually married, for the evening's entertainment at the hotel bar wherever I stayed. Married women were eager to have a sexy adventure; then eager to leave once it was over.

I never asked Maureen what she did when I was gone, but I'd met enough wives over the years to understand a woman's needs. Our rule was "No strangers are invited back to the house unless we were both home." Home was our sanctuary, period.

Younger generations can call this "cheating", but in fact we were both living our best lives, and our marriage was strong.

We had a few select friends, couples actually; whom we swapped partners with. Usually on New Years Eve and Independence Day, at least.

Which reminded me of the freshly trimmed hedges I'd noticed earlier. I wondered if she was joking, or if she actually sucked Bobby's young cock outside, discretely? I'll have to ask her about that later.

It was Friday, early autumn, we had a dinner engagement at the home of Neville Sinclair, a local celebrity. Both Maureen and I volunteered each year for his favorite charity, and this year he generously offered his home (Summer home, actually;) for our annual celebration.

We knew him because he sometimes invited us over to meet his latest supermodel date, (showing off), or rising Hollywood starlet he was coaching. The night almost always ended with me screwing the model while he seduced Maureen in another room. He had class and sophistication, and his friendship and business connections were good for my career. My wife knew how to give my career a boost, like a lot of wives then. Maureen liked that he tried so hard to please her, and certainly the full dress dinners and expensive outings were a welcome treat.

The Sinclair Home.

At the celebration, Marge and I wore tennis whites, hoping to get a game in after the festivities, His house outside of town was enormous, you really didn't see it from the road in its entirety. 12 bedrooms, a pool, dock, solarium, separate parking facilities, the works. Our host had hired caterers, and staff, the party was grand. Almost the whole neighborhood was in attendance. This event was the highlight of the summer.

"Darn it!, Adam is here!" Maureen said, exasperated.

Adam was a nice young man. Tall lanky athlete, he fancied himself a bit of a lady’s man. Not even graduated college yet, and he thought he knew everything. And said so, often. The trouble was I saw him at work, we both saw him at church, and he volunteered seemingly just to hang around where he could bump into Maureen. He was everywhere we were. At the volunteer job site, he never missed an opportunity to take off his shirt, and flex when he knew Maureen was nearby. When we were moving building materials, if I picked up two cinder blocks, he'd make a point of getting three of four at a time. If I carried 5 planks of wood, he grabbed 10. I knew Maureen was amused by those antics, and I'm sure she was flattered by this stud performing for her attentions.

But, we both got an "Immature" vibe from him, and thought it best not to include him in any of our sexy times. Especially his obnoxious ambition to one-up me, Neither Maureen or I had any interest in playing that game with him. (Hint: If you want to fuck my wife, don't be annoying to me!) Still, he was nothing of not persistent. At the party, She decided to prank him.

After the dinner celebration, we did get a few matches in on our host's tennis court. Then wandered around the grounds and house. It was a treat to explore the well-kept grounds. Also, we were trying to ditch the ever-present Adam. It became a game. At one point, I saw Maureen whisper something to slutty old Marge,

Then, Maureen said (loud enough for Adam to overhear) "Let's take our drinks up to the rooftop terrace and watch the sunset!" I visibly agreed, and we left down a long hall to the stairway, herding the crowd ahead of us, drinks in hand. At the last turn, Maureen looked behind to see if we'd been followed, then darted into a separate stairway leading down. We both hid just inside and waited until we