Bombshell in the Berkshires - Sex Stories

Bombshell in the Berkshires

... that was a nice surprise.

Towards the end of the meal she said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to have Roger over for dinner tomorrow. Carrie's out of town and you can make your winter stew.

I tried to keep my face from showing surprise.

"Sure. Always happy to have Roger around, but...?" How did she know Carrie would be away?

A slow smile. "I want to talk to you both."

"Oh." My heart sank. I hadn't said "Oh shit" but "Oh." I kept my voice even.

"About?"

"What do you think, Clay? About the two of you."

"Mightn't Carrie worry?"

"Nope. I've talked to her."

Another surprise. The two of them talking. This of course had huge implications.

"Fair enough."

The next night Roger came over with a bottle of wine, looking a bit undone at the door when Barb let him in.

Her eyebrows went up. "Not sure I've ever seen you drink wine, Roger."

"No, I don't. But I know you do."

She looked at the bottle, one of her favorites, a moderately expensive California chardonnay.

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Yes. It was my suggestion. But at his ask."

Thebean and barley stew was still simmering away when we entered the kitchen, and Roger sniffed the air and put his big manly hands together.

"Sure smells good, Barb. You make a mean meal."

"Thanks, but this is Clay's work." He gave me an odd look.

"Guess I haven't cooked much with you around, bud."

"Just done everything else though." Barb snickered at her own joke, and Roger shot her an ...

... anxious look.

"Hey, let's just get you a beer and eat," she said. "We'll talk after dinner."

So I got Roger a good pale ale to match mine, and we had a fine meal, the conversation a little stiff at first but got easier as we went along, Barb asking suitable interesting questions about Roger and the machine shop, actually got him to talk about his routine a bit. I even learned a few things about his job and what he did that I hadn't known.

Afterwards we retired to the living room and Barb requested a fire for some warmth.

Luckily this time of year I usually have a couple logs and kindling set up for whenever we want a fire, so it just took opening the flue and a little work before we had a good blaze going.

Barb settled back into her favorite chair, me on the other side of the hearth, and Roger maybe ten feet way from the fireplace, between us. An equilateral triangle.

Barb began by addressing Roger. "I've been talking to Clay, but I want to hear a little more from you about this little connection you guys have made."

I couldn't read Roger's face very well, but it did not exude comfort.

"Tell me how it all began. How you got your crush going," Barb prodded.

Roger shot me a look and I urged him on with my hands, basically indicating "go ahead, tell the truth."

So he talked, at first hesitantly, then with more detail about our first hike, the pond, the "wet dream" he'd experienced napping after our skinny dip, unsuspectingly at my surreptitious ...