“I’m a trained and certified lifeguard — used to do this in the summers when I was at university,” Rick announced after he propelled himself out of the pool. “I know how to deal with cramp.” Addressing me, he asked “David, may I massage your wife’s leg to work the cramp out?”
Dazed, I nodded. Everyone gathered around could see the angry knot of muscle that had cramped, halfway up the inside of Lily’s right thigh. “It hurts! It hurts!” Lily writhed and screamed in pain.
Rick knelt beside Lily. Expertly, gently but firmly, he began to work on the affected muscles, at the same time raising her leg high to stretch those muscles. After about five minutes of stretching and manipulating Lily’s thigh, Rick’s expert stroking, massaging and stretching effectively eased Lily’s pain, and her cries subsided. She was tearful, effusive in her thanks.
“Really happy that I was here to help!” exclaimed Rick to a round of applause. “When I used to get kids at the pool with cramp, I always gave them the same advice. Cramps are often caused by low calcium and/or potassium, so I’d tell them to have a glass of milk and a banana before bed!”
“If somebody could help me to my feet, I’d like to give my saviour here a great big hug!” cried Lily, and she was as good as her word. She walked gingerly up and down, leaning on him, testing her leg. Several of the other women jokingly suggested that they were suffering from cramps, and couldn’t Rick see to them? The laughter lightened the moment. Lily laid herself down on a chaise lounge, and as if by magic somebody came from the kitchen with a banana and a glass of milk for her. More laughter.
There was no appetite for further water polo, so people mingled and relaxed easily around and in the pool, around the bar, and around the garden where lawn chairs were plentiful. Lily held court in her lounge chair, and she looked ravishingly beautiful in her bikini. At Rick’s suggestion, she was soothing her thigh with a hot water bottle, and he was very solicitous, looking after her welfare. “My saviour!” she called him, repeatedly.
Meanwhile, I had to barbecue! We’d prepared the buffet salads and sides in advance, and Lily deputized some of the wives to bring all the preparations, utensils, napkins etc. out to the buffet tables. I had the big barbecue going, half with hamburger patties and buns, half with chicken wings — plenty of food for everybody, plenty to drink. Guests took their full plates and drinks and seated themselves around picnic tables scattered around the patio and the garden. A very pleasant and relaxed time for everyone, lots of drinks, into the long evening’s fading warm sunlight.
Finally, it was time to go, as sunlight faded into dark. Guests changed into their street clothes. Plenty of offers to help with cleanup were thankfully accepted — cleanup was easy because much of the picnicware was disposable and went into the recycling bin. The last guests left, with their thank yous lingering in the chilling air of late evening.
Sitting in our family room, with a pleasant nightcap in our hands, I asked Lily “what did you think of the party?”
Her reply was immediate. “I would really like to fuck Rick, my saviour! His hands felt so good on me he nearly gave me an orgasm rubbing my leg, and I could see that his big cock grew in his speedo while he rubbed my thigh — I thought he might come in his bathing suit! And then he was so thoughtful and considerate afterwards, looking after me and making sure I was really recovered, really comfortable! He’s a lovely man. Like you!”
I was overwhelmed by her eagerness, but I had to canvas other possibilities. “Suppose he says no,” I began, “though I can’t imagine why any red-blooded male would say no to you. Who else might be on your list?”
Dutifully, Lily surveyed and discussed the other five single men. Two of them she ruled out because they were gay. (Nothing wrong with being gay, as she said, but not eligible for her purpose). She then ranked the other three, with comments on each of them. A great comparison shopper.
It then fell to me to devise an approach to Rick Knowles.
~~~~~~~~~
I was mulling this over at work, the following week, when I had a text from Rick:There’s something I need to discuss with you, and I don’t want to do it at work. Can I suggest lunch tomorrow, at Sanagans?
Puzzled, I texted back:Sure thing. Shall we meet there at 12:30? He agreed, with a thumbs-up sign. I was intrigued, as was Lily when I shared with her — neither of us had a clue what he wanted.
Sanagans is a nice upscale steak house at some distance from work, which made it unlikely that any colleagues would witness our meeting. I got there somewhat ahead of time and snagged one of their discreet booths, in a back corner. Rick showed up on the dot of 12:30, and I waved him over. “Let’s order and get our food first, so we won’t be interrupted by servers,” I suggested.
A good plan, he agreed, so we made small talk while our drinks and food were delivered. Once done, Rick said “you’re probably wondering what all this is about, why the secrecy? Well, I want to relate to you something weird that happened to me on Saturday night, two days after your great party. I was with a bunch of guys in a sports bar having a few drinks, and there was another group at the next table, kinda loud and half drunk, or at least really happy. One of them, a guy named Peter Edwards, real asshole, was boasting about a really great lay that he’d had a couple of weeks back, and he went into detail about the various positions, the blow-job, etc. etc. Real loudmouth.”
My blood ran cold, because I knew what was coming. Rick continued, “the woman’s name, he said, was Lily Cochrane. I couldn’t believe my ears! That couldn’t be your wife, could it?”
I searched for words…”a gentleman shouldn’t…shouldn’t kiss and tell…”
Rick’s astonishment was palpable — he sat there, dumbstruck.
“This is a long and complex story,” I began, “a sad one. You remember some time ago, about two years back, I had to take some time off for an operation in hospital? Well, that was a prostatectomy, a complete removal of my prostate gland because of cancer, and the result is that I am impotent. I can’t get it up.”
I went on to tell Rick the story I’ve told here before, stressing the fact that my lovely Lily, full of life and fun, beautiful, responsive, highly sexed, was facing a life of enforced abstinence, celibacy. As was I. After we had enjoyed a life of such love, such loving, together. After looking at the options (Lily absolutely ruled out divorce!) we’d decided that Lily could have access to other lovers, with my knowledge and permission, and that I cooperated with her in seeking these men.
Peter Edwards had been the first, recommended by a friend of Lily’s. Totally unsatisfactory. Treated Lily unfeelingly, like a piece of meat. And now a blabbermouth. Must tell Cindy about that!
Our ad in ‘Then’ was useless. Heard bad things about Tinder, so avoided that. Finally I told Rick about Kupid’s Korner, a safe place for swingers, quick hook-ups, one-night stands, no strings, anonymous fucking. With me sometimes watching, sometimes not.