By pretending to be other people when they make love, and constantly changing the setting, an imaginative married couple keep boredom at bay

Routine often catches the unwary; my wife told me this one spring evening as we sat around the house with nothing to do. She was staring at a crossword puzzle. I was leaning against the window frame, looking out at the neighbor’s house across the street and wondering what they were doing for fun and excitement.

Not an exercise nut, just that pent up with restless energy, I finally decided to go for a run around ten o’clock. Apparently, while I was changing into gym shorts and running shoes, my wife, Pam, did some deciding of her own.

I was jogging easily around the front nine of the golf course down the block, following the same path I always take. The third hole has a long, flat fairway rising to an elevated green. Trudging up the incline, I looked at the lights of houses in the distance, lots of little squares of yellow shining in the warm night.

Suddenly a quick motion passed across the green just in front of me, about forty yards away. Watching more closely, I noticed that someone else was on the golf course. Slowing, then stopping all together, I saw the figure of a woman sitting Indian-style on the far edge of the green. The house lights across the hills silhouetted her body as her hands went to her waist and she pulled her top up and over her head.

She shook her thick, shoulder-length hair; then her hands caressed the curves of her breasts. Even the erect tips of her nipples were clearly outlined. There was an immediate erection in my shorts, and it bulged at the edges of my supporter so tautly that I slipped my cock out of it and let the shaft point toward my stomach and push into the waistband’s elastic hold.

As I watched, mesmerized, the woman slid her hands down the front of her body, then lay back, eased her pants down her legs, gently kicked them off, folded the material and put them under her head as she lay back on the short grass. Her hands were on her breasts, touching, rubbing her nipples. I could hear her sighing, exhaling pleasured sounds, as one hand grazed her stomach and went between her legs. Her joy sounds increased and her hips rolled from side to side as she hoisted her loins upward. Supporting her weight on her shoulders and feet, she arched her ass upward and opened her legs, giving clear view of the hand thrusting its fingers into her vagina.

My stare was so intense that I didn’t realize I was approaching her, taking short steps, my eyes hungrily devouring her. I was ten feet away when she saw me.

She didn’t seem at all embarrassed by my being there. Raising herself into a sitting position, she kept one arm resting across her breasts and pressed her legs together, but not so tightly as to keep me from seeing the small triangle of her pubic hairs.

Had there been more light, I would have recognized her immediately, even in so provocative a setting. But in the dark I didn’t realize who she was until she said, “Do you come here a lot?” It was my wife.

Before I could answer, she began talking about how she loved the warm nights at the beginning of summer, when she could be out here in the open, strip off her clothes and watch the stars. And then she said, “I like to make myself come. And I do it quite often.”

Saying that, she opened her legs slightly, put both hands on her pussy and pressed with her fingers, telling me how good it felt and asking me if I wanted to watch.

I was dazed with arousal. This was not something Pam did, lying naked in the middle of a gold course at night and making herself come. Then I realized from the strange story she’d told me about loving warm nights that this was not supposed to be Pam. She was pretending to be someone else, and her acting so out of character actually had some part of me believing she was that other someone.

“Yes,” I said, “I want to watch you do yourself,” trying to make my voice different, so that we could each be someone else. As I knelt down at her feet, I took Pam’s ankles and spread her legs wide open, stretching out my arms so that she was as fully open to me as she could get. This made her gasp and intensified the pleasure her fingers worked between her legs.

Pam’s arms were taut with excitement as she worked her hands; her breasts were pushed up to where her bi-ceps pressed against them. She made quick gasping sounds as two fingers went into her channel and thrust deeply; the distant night lights caught her body at just the right angle to show me how moist her seam was.

Telling her how good she looked, I felt my shaft jerking in my pants and wondered how long it had been since just watching something had taken me this close to coming. All at once Pam pulled her hands out of her pussy. She grabbed her tits quickly, then fingered her hair and rolled from side to side, sounding excited as she exclaimed that she couldn’t come that way, she needed my cock inside her.

Yanking my shorts down to my knees, I sprang my cock out. As I mounted her, my arms and legs actually felt weakened by desire. Pam was telling me in a way so different from her own that she wanted to be taken, “hard-fast-fucked,” she said — a phase I’d never heard her utter before.

So I went into her with a heightened desire, my hands under her ass and grabbing hold of her there as I thrust my cock all the way into her slick folds in one penetrating motion. Pam’s fingers drew circles upon the small of my back. She threw her arms right around me, pulling herself up into my chest. Kissing her hotly, I pumped against her abdomen as we fucked.

My cock was peaking fast, and there was no way I wanted to stop. My concern over timing had been cast aside by Pam’s act. I wanted her too much to do it any way but fast. Groaning in her ear, I told her how close I was, how great she felt. Pam’s answer was to moan, “Just pump. Just pump.”

Ejaculating, I cried out into her shoulder, half mouthing her, and kept up a stiff, rhythmic pace all through my orgasm. Even as the spasms of my cock were lessening, I kept going. Pam came strongly. Her legs wrapped themselves around my knees as she threw herself back on the grass, with her arms splayed, her head twisting from side to side and her hair falling over her face. Pam’s climax seemed longer than usual, and finally subsided when she sighed with spent pleasure, her hands on my hips as she eased me out of her.

Her eyes were wide with happiness, and a big smile spread across her lips. “I loved it,” she gushed. But then she was eager to get her clothes back on: the real Pam — the one who wouldn’t be caught naked in the middle of a field on a bet-had returned.

That evening in bed we talked about what a great release it had been for each of us to be someone else for a change, to take on a different sexual persona. We could do all kinds of stuff, Pam realized, because it really wouldn’t be us that were doing it.

Before falling asleep, we dreamed up a number of different scenarios for “playacting sex.” One, we knew, was a fairly common setting, but we both wanted to do it nonetheless, realizing that you don’t have to be wildly original to have some wild fun. Thursday night was set as “opening night” for these two new roles.

It was getting dark by the time I arrived downtown that Thursday. Looking up at the sky between the tall buildings, I saw streams of thin clouds set against a dark purple and blue background.

It was 8: 15 — I was fifteen minutes late — by the time I found myself approaching our designated street corner. Getting closer, I looked hard, but I couldn’t find Pam. There were only half a dozen people on that part of the block. Maybe she’d gotten tired of waiting and —

Then I recognized her, though it wasn’t easy. She was leaning against the cement wall of an office building, just barely wearing a leather skirt that covered her ass but left a lot of thigh revealed. She had on spike-heeled dark-brown boots and a sleeveless, ribbed white t-shirt through which her nipples were visible at the thirty-foot distance now separating us. Even her hair was different, kinked into a frizzy perm, its length forming a border around the purple eye shadow and bright-red lipstick painted on her face.

Pam caught my eye, looked away, not showing any signs of knowing me, then looked back again very coyly as I stopped beside her, asking in a throaty and suggestive voice if she could help me. We chatted a while the way we each figured a prostitute and john would, talking in vague terms about what she would do for me and for how much. During all this I couldn’t get my eyes off her breasts, which were showing through that t-shirt, the nipples erect.

Once we’d struck a bargain, we walked around the corner to the nearby hotel where Pam said she had a room. Going up the street, I felt the urge to put my arm around her, as was my habit, but didn’t. That was my habit with my wife; this was not — for the duration of our game — my wife. So I walked alongside her at arm’s length, watching her breasts bounce, sometimes falling behind half a step to watch her ass moving back and forth. It was Pam’s walk, but exaggerated, with her hips rocking from side to side and giving me an occasional glimpse of red silk panties.

In the hotel lobby, waiting for the elevator, four men dressed in suits and wearing name tags from some medical group made horny eyes at Pam, none of them hiding the fact that they were staring right at her.

One of them smiled.

Pam, sounding very street-wise, said back to him, “How ya doin’?”

It all filled me with even more desire, and I was already very aware of the heaviness of my throbbing cock.

Getting out of the elevator, Pam turned right and walked to the end of the hall, unlocking the door of a large corner room with a king-size bed. The curtains were open, allowing a panoramic view of other buildings, where the lights in many windows were still on.

Tossing her pocketbook on a chair by the door, Pam reached for my pants, took out my wallet, opened it and slipped out a hundred bucks. She then unsnapped her skirt, handing back the by now lightened wallet in the same move. Her red panties came down along with her skirt and she rubbed a hand between her legs, then ran those fingers across my cheek, telling me how hot she was as she drew the wetness toward my lips.

In a playful romp, she dropped down onto the bed, pulled her knees up to her chest and showed me a split of pink now, asking me if I wanted to taste it, urging me to. I knelt down beside the bed, pressed my face close to her vagina and became aware of a sweet scent just as my mouth was about to kiss her folds. When my tongue was in her wetness, I tasted the strawberry flavor of her pussy — fantastic. Pam had really primed herself well for this part, and I briefly wondered where she’d gotten this dessert treat for me.

My tongue couldn’t get enough of her; I licked her slit, then penetrated, tongue-fucking her as far up her channel as I could, feeling the slickness of Pam’s juices coating the sides of my mouth. The bulge of her clit danced back and forth as my tongue flicked against it, working just on her clit for a few strokes, then lapping her whole pussy, then switching back and forth like that.

Soon Pam was flowing even more, her wetness streaming, coating her folds. I was thinking how great it was going to be, fucking her with her pussy this slippery. Pam’s legs wrapped around my shoulders and her hands pulled my hair. She made sounds like a tough girl surprised to find herself coming. When she started climaxing she played with my hair with one hand and pounded the mattress with the other, writhing under the pressure of my tongue.

I kept licking her pussy until her hands urged me to ease up. Once she was still, I slid my hands underneath the front of her t-shirt, got hold of her tits, and fondled her.

Pam kept her role going as  the hooker of every man’s dreams, the one who passionately tells her john that no one’s made her come like that in years, the ultimate ego thrill; and we were both into it. I was about to mount her, rubbing my cock against her pussy, when Pam stopped me and said she bet she knew something I’d like, that she’d do something for me she guessed my wife wouldn’t do: suck my cock and swallow my come.

She propped her head and shoulders against the headboard with three pillows, motioning with her hands for me to kneel over her. Her tongue swept wetly across her lips, making the red lipstick shine even more glossy; then she opened her mouth and gazed up at me.

Bracing my upper body against the wall, I brought my erection in line with Pam’s mouth, sinking my hard length between her lips. She tongued me, then pressed her fingertips against my balls, and rubbed them gently while her other hand helped guide my shaft back and forth between her lips. Each time my cock went toward her, Pam wanted to get more of it over her tongue.

When my moans told her I was close to coming, she eased my shaft out of her mouth, holding my cockhead still within a tongue’s length of her face. She squeezed upward on me until a bead of semen oozed from the tip of my cock.

Pam watched it until it broke and began sliding down my cock; then she licked it, tasting it, and went back to sucking on my cock with an increased desire. Watching my cock pumping between her lips made the feeling even greater for me. I was loving it, feeling the pressure in my shaft about to burst, telling Pam I was coming.

She stayed on me, using both hands on my cock, rubbing me and keeping my shaft head on her tongue as it shot a hard line of semen into her mouth and followed it quickly with another. I tried to tone down my scream by turning my face into the cook of my arm; I heard Pam take a loud gulp and imagined the thick wad of my come flowing down her throat now as the final line of my ejaculate spurted onto her tongue.

As I pulled out of her, Pam’s mouth was open, her head was tilted forward and she was breathing deeply; some un-swallowed semen slid over her lips and dropped onto the floor. When she next looked at me, she was out of character and said, “This was great,” with a dreamy smile.

Pam and I have continued to use different roles to keep our sex life varied. We try to keep our characters diversified, changing not only situations but personality types, keeping boredom at bay and passion alive.