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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Wild Once Again
by Mr. Robinson (yankee3@tarmail.com)
***
A white lie leads to a red hot night. (MMF, wife, voy)
***
Life, they say, is what happens to you while you are
making other plans. That's what happened to Barbara and
I last Friday night when we were planning a quiet night
at home.
We were headed home after a nice dinner at a local
steakhouse. I had the New York Strip and Barbara had a
rack of ribs. If you knew her, you'd raise an eyebrow
at that. She's five-foot-three, and while she's not as
willowy as she once was, she has stayed trim and toned
through the years.
But her eyes have always been bigger than her stomach.
Or in her words, "If a little is good, more is better."
So we toted the better half of the rack of ribs home
with us in a little foil-lined bag that rode on the
seat between us. More would be better for lunch
tomorrow.
This is what passed for a night out for us in recent
years. Time was when we danced and drank and partied
with the best of them. Matter of fact, I met her in a
little bar shooting pool, a passion we shared but had
not indulged for far too long. That night, we drank too
much, danced too close and couldn't even wait to get
back to my house to make love for the first time.
Now, ten years later, car payments, a mortgage and two
demanding careers left us content to enjoy a fine
dinner and head home by ten to curl up on the couch or
in bed with an HBO movie. We didn't find it dull or
boring, but we had definitely settled into a routine
that included little beyond ourselves and our home. It
seemed our wild days were just memories that we
sometimes conjured as fantasies during lovemaking.
So, it caught me by surprise when she saw the sign
outside a dance club advertising "Live Music," and
said, "Let's see who's playing."
It shouldn't have surprised me, she has always been the
impetuous one, but it had been a while since I'd seen
that side of her. I, on the other hand, usually had to
be dragged kicking and screaming into adventures that I
never regretted.
"Come on, it'll be fun," she said. "It's been so long
since we've gone out. We need to have a little fun."
"I don't know," I said. "It's getting late and I don't
know if I really feel like dancing right now."
"Please," she said, scooting across the seat. She laid
her right hand on my thigh and pushed herself up to
lightly flick my ear with her tongue and whispered,
"Remember, Key West."
Damn, she was persuasive. I didn't feel so tired
anymore and spun the car around in the next driveway
and headed back toward The Roadhouse Café.
Key West was a Christmas present to ourselves the year
before we got married. It was the benchmark vacation
against which all others were measured - and they
always fell short - and the benchmark for personal
debauchery. It was a week of sex and drugs and rock-
and-roll that reached its pinnacle at Hog's Breath on
New Years Eve. Barbara drank too much, danced topless
in the teeming crowd and climbed one of the towers next
to the stage to dance alone five feet above the floor.
When one of the bouncers climbed up to get her down,
she tried to dissuade him by throwing her arms around
his neck and french-kissing him while her nearly-naked
body writhed against him. He obviously enjoyed delaying
the inevitable for a few moments, and when he finally
made her climb down the disappointed crowd booed .
We finally left at 3 a.m. and filled the rest of the
time before our 6:30 a.m. flight with nearly non-stop
sex. We climbed on the plane exhausted, hung over and
bleary-eyed. Even if we could turn the clock back, I
don't think we could wring as much hedonistic delight
out of another vacation.
My attitude was definitely better when I pulled the car
into the club's parking lot. There were plenty of
spaces. Ten may have been late for me these days, but
the club crowd was just waking up.
The place was still half-empty when we walked in and
the band hadn't yet taken the stage. A jukebox pumped
out rock tunes, but the small parquet dance floor in
front of the stage was empty, as were most of the
tables that surrounded it. But the bar was full. All
but a couple of the stools at the long wooden bar were
filled with men who seemed to take their drinking
seriously. A clot of men and women huddled around the
pinball and video game machines. But there was no pool
table. Damn.
The crowd was young, by that I mean, at least ten years
younger than we were. And the men outnumbered the women
two-to-one. It was early yet, I thought.
Heads turned and eyes followed our every step as we
made our way to a small table near the dance floor.
Were we the only strangers in a bar full of regulars?
Or was it because I was a jacket-and-tie in a room full
of Tommy jeans and pullovers? Or was it Barbara?
She may have been ten years older than everyone in the
place, but she doesn't look her age. Sometimes she
still gets asked for ID. She is trim and firm and sexy,
but even more, she has a young attitude. Tonight it
radiated from her. Her eyes had a glint of excitement
that flashed in anticipation of having some fun. There
was nothing old about her.
If that wasn't enough, she was the classiest woman in
the place. She had worn her new black leather suit to
dinner. She loved the soft, buttery feel of leather on
her skin. It made her feel as sexy as she looked. When
she bought the suit, she got two skirts, one longer and
more modest, more business-like, the other shorter and
sexier. She had worn the short one tonight and it
exposed her shapely tan legs whose curves were
accentuated by high-heeled pumps.
The skirt was as tight as it was short. It fit her like
a second skin. Between the skirt and the heels, she had
to walk in short mincing steps that showed off her
tight, round bottom in a way that was surely both
delight and torment for every guy in the place.
It was definitely Barbara they were watching.
Nonetheless, when we got to the table I pulled off my
tie and folded it into my jacket pocket and hung the
sports coat over the back of my chair. That's better. I
may still be button down, but I won't feel quite so out
of place.
When I looked up again, I saw Barbara headed for the
bar to get a couple of drinks. That was Barbara. She
didn't stand on chivalry. She was a modern woman, a
feminist, if you will. She had a good job, worked hard
and was proud of it. She paid for dinners as often as I
did. She wanted to be an equal partner, and that suited
me fine. I enjoyed her spirit and her independence. I
didn't even mind that she had never worn her wedding
ring since the ceremony.
She said that men treated married women different at
work, that they never took them seriously. She didn't
want to be patronized or dismissed because she was
married. She wasn't someone's wife, she was who she
was, bright, articulate, aggressive and hardworking.
That's how she wanted to be judged.
I wasn't sure I agreed with all that but I did know it
changed the way men treated her outside work. She
attracted them like honey draws bees. And that suited
her, too. She liked getting attention and enjoyed the
effect she had on men, especially when they would get
all flustered and tongue-tied when they were trying to
impress her.
I remember her laughing about one guy who saw her as he
was getting out of his car at a convenience store. He
tried to be suave but dropped his keys and bumped his
head on the car door when he bent over to pick them up.
His sheepish smile and nervous greeting fell short of
his intentions. She said it was cute.
Attention is what she was getting at the bar. As she
raised her left leg to climb onto an open stool between
two groups of guys, her little skirt rode up and
exposed a long expanse of her right thigh. The guy next
to her didn't miss the show. And when she leaned over
the bar to order, the bartender saw only the flash of
cleavage her low-cut linen blouse revealed. He never
even saw her flashing emerald green eyes.
While he got the drinks, Barbara talked with the guys
at the bar and soon was laughing at their jokes and
chatting animatedly. Even after she got the drinks, she
lingered a bit to finish her conversation, then
sauntered back to our table with several sets of eyes
glued to her every step.
"They say the band is pretty good," she said handing me
a tumbler of bourbon and taking a sip of her scotch.
"They do a lot of stuff from the '70s and '80s. The guy
on keyboards is supposed to be very good and they do a
lot of Billy Joel stuff."
She was delighted at that. She's a big Billy Joel fan.
We would know soon. The band was getting ready to
start.
We drank and talked a bit, but soon were drowned out by
the music. So we just listened for a while. After a
couple of tunes, she pulled me up to dance. I balked a
little - no one else was on the dance floor yet - and
then relented.
I was more than a little self-conscious and hardly
rhythmic, but that had never mattered to Barbara. She
just loved to dance and she moved to the music as
though she were alone in the world. By the time the
next number started, I loosened up a bit as two other
couples stepped out and two girls danced together at
the edge of the floor.
By the end of the third number Barbara was tired and a
little winded so we made our way back to the table. We
both drained our glasses and I headed to the bar to get
another round. The place was filling up quickly now.
Most of the tables were filled and there was a crowd
around the bar trying to get drinks. I elbowed my way
through to a little space at the bar and waited with
empty glasses and money on the bar. But I didn't get
the attention that Barbara had.
As I waited, I watched Barbara at the table. She
slipped off the leather jacket and laid it across an
empty chair and sat down to listen to the band. It
wasn't long before first one and then another guy
approached her, obviously asking her to dance. I could
see her smile and shake her head.
"Bad timing, guys, let her catch her breath," I
thought.
Then the crowd around the bar thickened and I lost
sight of her, so I turned back to try to flag down one
of the busy bartenders.
The band had played two or three more numbers by the
time I got the drinks and headed back to the table. I
kept my attention on the brimming full glasses as I
jostled through the crowd. I was nearly back to the
table when I noticed she was gone.
I quickly scanned the dance floor before sitting down
and spotted her easily even though dancers now crowded
the small area in front of the band. Her movements were
sinuous and fluid. She had abandoned footwork for a
mildly suggestive swivel and sway that emphasized her
delicious bottom and ample breasts. She danced with
knees loosely bent and legs slightly spread to help
balance on the heels. The tight skirt had begun to inch
up drawing the hem higher on her well-toned and tanned
thighs. What a vision!
"She's feeling the scotch," I thought. It never took
much with her and we seldom drank these days. Alcohol
always loosened her up and its effects were apparent as
she danced with little inhibition.
I looked for her partner. With all the people out there
it was hard to tell who she was dancing with until a
tall, blond guy in khakis and a baggy blue pullover
moved closer as she began to roll and pump her hips to
the bass line. He caught her eye and she looked up at
him with sly smile and added some emphasis to her
thrusts.
She likes him, I thought.
When the song ended, he hugged her and she relaxed in
his arms and hugged him back. Then she grabbed his hand
and led him back to our table.
As they approached, I could see that he was handsome,
in a rugged way, and even his baggy pullover couldn't
conceal his well-muscled arms and chest or his slender
waist. He could have held her in one hand, but he
followed her picking his way through the crowd as she
pulled him along by his hand.
As he took a seat across from me, Barbara leaned over
and shouted something in my ear. But even so near, she
couldn't compete with the band and I couldn't make it
all out. Something about him asking her to dance. Two
things did get through. She thought he was cute and she
thought he was hot, the last communicated by a little
pinched expression of approval that seemed to say,
"Oooooo," and a little shake of her hand as though she
touched something sizzling.
Then she sat down and started to make an introduction,
but I waved her off. It was just too loud, we could
wait for the break. Then she took a sip of her scotch
and turned to him and raised the glass with a
questioning expression. He nodded and she got up to buy
him a drink.
As she made her way to the bar, the bandleader
announced they were going to take a break and the bar
quieted.
I stuck out my hand and reached across the table. "I'm
Stan," I said.
"Chad," he replied returning the handshake with a firm
grip and a small smile as he sized me up. When his eyes
fell on my left hand, the smile faded a bit and he
released his grip. He was thinking: A married guy with
a hot, unmarried woman at a rock bar on a Friday
night...
"I didn't know you guys were together," he started.
"She was sitting here alone when I asked her to dance.
I, I..."
I was amused.
I smiled broadly and laughed at bit. "Don't worry. It's
OK. She loves to dance and I love to see her enjoying
herself."
He relaxed a bit, but still looked nervous, though not
nervous enough to leave before she returned with his
drink.
Then an unexpected idea flashed through my head. It
must have been the bourbon, but I was the one feeling
impetuous and mischievous now. She was enjoying herself
and enjoying Chad's attention and it was too soon for
it to end. She would be disappointed. If I wanted to
enjoy her later, it would be better if she wasn't
disappointed.
I leaned across the table so I wouldn't have to shout
and looked directly into his deep blue eyes.
"It's not what you think," I began.
"What do you mean?" he asked tensing again.
"Barbara is my sister," I lied. "She's down visiting
from New York."
Chad relaxed immediately and he listened closely as I
went on.
"She just got her divorce," I said making it up as I
went along. "After more than two years of fighting and
arguing with that bastard in court, she wanted a
vacation so she came down to spend a couple of weeks
with me. Sort of a celebration.
"It is good for her to finally have some fun," I said.
"She's a great woman and deserves better than she's
had. It's been a rough couple of years."
Chad brightened and I could see the wheels beginning to
spin in his head, and then I added:
"I don't think she's even been out with anyone since
this whole thing started," I said, "so I was really
happy to see you two dancing out there. I was afraid
that bastard had put her off men altogether."
"Well, I don't think that happened." Chad replied,
smiling and winking. "Did you see her out there?"
Suddenly, we were co-conspirators and on our way to
being best buddies. No doubt he was thinking that if he
could win over Big Brother, Sis wouldn't be far behind.
About then Barbara returned with his drink and another
for herself. Mine was still full so she hadn't
bothered. I couldn't believe how quickly she could get
served.
She slipped into her chair and turned to Chad and put
out her hand.
"By the way, I'm Barbara."
"I know," Chad said. "Your brother has been telling me
all about you."
Barbara shot me a look both withering and quizzical and
I gave her a small smile in return. I would let her
figure out what it meant.
"He has, has he?" she said. "Nothing too bad, I hope?"
"Not at all," Chad said. "He only has good things to
say about you."
Before the conversation could get much further, the
first notes of the next set broke from the stage and
after a few bars, Chad tugged Barbara up for another
dance. She gulped down her scotch and headed toward the
floor. As they left, Chad gave me a smile and a knowing
look and then turned to follow her, his eyes riveted on
her bottom, rippling and rolling beneath the black
leather skirt.
They danced with greater abandon now, close and
suggestive. Barbara's moves were becoming more
primitive and Chad grew bolder, bumping and rubbing her
body as they spun and circled each other. By now the
dance floor was thick with people and I could only see
Barbara and Chad in glimpses as the crowd parted and
closed in waves. I sipped my drink and watched.
After a while their dance carried them to the near edge
of the floor and I was fascinated by what I saw.
Barbara's moves had become raw and primal, no longer
merely suggestive. Her hips swiveled and thrust above
parted legs in purely carnal motion. Her eyes were
glued to Chad's and her smile was gone, replaced by an
almost snarling expression of lust. It wasn't an
invitation; it was a dare.
He responded by moving still closer. He placed a foot
between hers so their legs would touch as they danced
and each of her now frantic thrusts bumped against his
thigh. He matched her motions in perfect rhythm. Thrust
and withdraw. Thrust and withdraw. Her hands were
raised above her head and pumping with each thrust. His
reached out, slowly and lightly tracing her swaying
body from her upper arms to her hips and back again. As
the song reached its climax, Barbara inched even
closer, her hips now moving in small circles, an
insistent grind on the thigh now planted well between
her legs.
When the song ended she collapsed in his arms, laughing
and puffing at the exertion. He pulled her close and
held her tightly as she caught her breath. After a few
moments, he bent his head to her ear and said something
and when she looked up at him, he covered her mouth
with his and kissed her deeply.
Barbara responded by reaching up and encircling his
neck with her hands and pulling herself up on tiptoes,
returned the kiss. Even from where I was sitting I
could sense the urgency of her kiss. Her hands moved
over his neck and tangled in his thick locks, pulling
his head down and closer as her lips devoured his. I
knew her tongue was snaking into his mouth, yearning
and searching for his.
Chad pulled her closer to him, crushing her against his
chest with his left arm around her back. His right hand
reached down to first cup her buttocks and then to lift
her closer to his lips. The boost freed Barbara's hands
and she slid them to his cheeks. She held his face in
her hands as she continued the wanton kiss.
When they finally broke, Barbara's hands flew back
around his neck and hugged him tightly cheek to cheek.
She was out of breath again.
As they loosened their grip and Barbara's feet slipped
firmly back to the floor, the band started a slow
number. With her hands still wrapped around Chad's
neck, she began to sway to the music. They danced
crushed together with a slow rocking motion as they
explored each other's bodies with light caresses. Chad
would nuzzle Barbara, leaving tender kisses on her
cheek and brow and she would stretch to brush his cheek
with her lips or nibble lightly on his lower lip.
When the song ended, they broke the embrace and headed
off the dance floor. Barbara wobbled a bit - too much
scotch or a little weak in the knees? - as she walked
back toward our table while Chad made his way to the
bar.
"What the hell did you tell him?" Barbara asked when
she got to the table.
"A little white lie," I answered, smiling. "He got a
little weird when he thought we were together, and I
didn't want to spoil your fun. I could tell you were
enjoying the attention. So I set his mind at ease."
"Well, it worked," she said. "He was all over me out
there."
"I could see, but I didn't notice much objection," I
teased. "As a matter of fact, I..."
Barbara glanced over to find Chad at the bar and then
looked back at me and moved closer.
"He got me so hot," she said. "Ohhh, I could have
fucked him right there in front of everyone."
"We don't get out enough," I replied.
She laughed at my little joke and said, "No, we don't."
She glanced back at the bar again and then looked me in
the eyes.
"Stan."
"Yes."
"I know we've talked about this, but..." she said
pausing.
"Yes?"
"Would you mind..." and she paused again.
"What?"
"I want to fuck him."
"I'm not surprised."
"I'm so hot," Barbara pleaded. "He's so damn hot. I
haven't even thought about another man since we've been
together, but he just got me so hot. And it's all your
fault anyway. I wouldn't be in this state, if it
weren't for you."
"Okay."
"What?"
"I said okay."
"Are you sure? It would just be this once. It's just
sex."
"Yes, I'm sure," I replied. "It got me pretty hot, too,
watching the two of you dancing. The thought of you in
bed with him is getting me even hotter now."
"Are you sure? You're not mad, are you? I don't want to
do anything to hurt you. Or us."
"I'm sure," I said, "but when you're done, you have to
tell me everything and then I'm going to fuck you until
you can't stand up."
Barbara threw her arms around my neck and hugged me
until I could hardly breathe."
"Thank you, I love you so much."
She broke the hug quickly and sat down. She didn't want
Chad to catch her in such an unsisterly pose.
Chad pulled his chair closer to Barbara as he sat down
and slid my drink across the table. He lifted his glass
and offered a toast that was lost in the music. I
raised my glass, smiled as though I understood and took
a long pull of the bourbon. Then he turned his
attention to Barbara. They leaned close to each other,
talking and laughing. I had a ringside seat to the
seduction of my wife and wanted to watch every detail,
but that would have been awkward, so I watched the
dancers and listened to the music.
But I didn't miss much. As they talked Chad touched her
fingers with his and now and again would nibble at her
ear lobe when he leaned over to say something. Barbara
alternately looked shocked or coy, but deeper in her
eyes something smoldered.
The two of them were lost in their own little world and
they drew closer and closer until Barbara had snuggled
under his arm with her head on his shoulder.
Then I noticed a little hitch in her breath, a small
gasp, followed by a small sigh. Her eyes closed and she
shifted a bit in her seat. One of Chad's hands had
disappeared and I was sure it was busy between my
wife's legs, caressing her thighs beneath the hem of
that short skirt. A flush spread across her cheeks and
her breathing quickened as she opened her eyes and
fixed him with a gaze that seemed to say, "Not here,
not now... but soon."
She pushed his hand away and straightened up. Then she
leaned across the table to me and said, "I can't wait
much longer."
At the next break, Chad said something to Barbara and
started to get up. She nodded and leaned over to tell
me, "He wants to leave. He wants me to go home with
him. Are you really sure it's okay?"
I looked up at Chad, digging in his pockets for his car
keys and swaying a bit on unsteady legs.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," I told
Barbara. "Get his keys."
Her face dissolved in disappointment.
Then I turned to Chad and asked, "Are you sure you're
okay to drive? You've been knocking back those scotches
pretty heavy."
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he answered.
"I'm sure you are," I humored him. "But why take the
chance. You know how the cops watch this place."
"No, really, I'm okay," he said.
"Tell you what," I offered, "why don't you come home
with us. We've got plenty of room and I'll bring you
back tomorrow to get your car."
Barbara brightened and stepped between us. She said
something to Chad. His resistance seemed to melt and
after considering for a moment he agreed.
We gathered our things and headed for the car. Barbara
and Chad walked arm in arm and I felt a twinge of
jealousy stabbing at my heart as I walked alone beside
them.
Chad shoehorned himself into the Acura's back seat. It
was never really meant for an adult, much less one of
his stature. When Barbara got in and slid the
passenger's seat forward, he settled in, hunching
between the front seats. His face filled the rearview
mirror and was just inches from Barbara's.
As I pulled onto the highway, Chad craned forward and
tried to kiss Barbara, but even as she turned to meet
him, the angle was cramped and awkward.
"Wait a minute," she told him, and lowered the seat
back to its reclining position.
"That's better," she said, reaching up for Chad and
pulling his face to hers. He twisted to face her and
reached across her as he leaned into the kiss. Soon she
was moaning softly into his mouth and biting his lips
as the passion she had barely restrained at the
Roadhouse was unleashed.
Chad twisted still more to balance himself and free his
hand. He was facing away from me now, focused only on
my wife and her ravening mouth. His hand now cupped her
right breast through the linen blouse.
Barbara arched to meet his hand and wriggled beneath
him trying to increase the contact between them and to
press her lips tighter to his as their dancing tongues
awakened still deeper needs.
I wanted to watch them but had to settle for glimpses
in the rearview and an occasional peek. Chad had worked
his hand under Barbara's blouse and, from the whimpers
of delight now emanating from my wife, under her bra as
well. I marveled at the thought of her hot nipple
burning into the palm of his hand.
I had to get home soon or I was going to drive off the
road. A live sex show would have been distracting
enough, but the sight of my wife so wantonly giving
herself to Chad beside me fired a raging lust within
me.
I dropped my right hand to her knee. Her flesh was hot
and I could feel her muscles tensing and releasing as
she squirmed beneath our caresses. I slid my hand up
her leg, along her exposed thighs. The tiny skirt had
bunched up beneath her and my hand easily found the
juncture of her thighs, now hot and wet.
Barbara let out a low, deep groan as my fingers found
their goal. She had often fantasized about her having
sex with two men and the thought never failed to
heighten her excitement. Now the reality was doing the
same.
Barbara bucked and twisted pushing Chad away. I pulled
my hand away so he would not catch us, but his eyes
were glued to my wife. Barbara was frantically pulling
her blouse and bra over her head. Chad helped her pull
it off and then quickly bent to kiss her now naked
breasts. Barbara gasped at the touch of his lips on her
hard, aching nipples and hugged his head to her breasts
for a moment and then pushed him away again.
Her fingers clawed at his belt and then his zipper.
Chad undid the button and then helped her tug his pants
down. In the cramped backseat, he struggled. Then he
pulled away, getting his legs under him and then
leaning forward over Barbara to straighten his waist.
That allowed her to work his pants down another inch or
two, enough to free his hot, hard penis. His head was
now over the rear seatback and when his penis sprang
free it bobbed just inches from Barbara's lips.
Now it was Chad who was groaning with delight as
Barbara devoured him. I sneaked a quick glance and
could see her holding his long, thick penis with one
hand at its base as her head bobbed vigorously along
its length.
"Oh, God," he cried out. "Oh, God, I'm going to cum."
He struggled to pull himself back but he could not free
himself from her grip.
"No, not yet," he pleaded. "Please."
But in this position, he was powerless to stop Barbara
and she continued relentlessly, sucking greedily as his
penis throbbed in her hand and in her mouth.
He was whimpering now, teetering on the verge of an
explosion.
And then she stopped and let out a small giggle. She
loved to torture me like that, bringing me oh-so-close
and then backing off. As Chad slipped back from the
brink, he relaxed and let out a deep sigh of relief.
Within an instant, Barbara's tongue flicked out again
and covered the purple head of his penis.
Again Chad tensed and whimpered. Barbara let out
another small laugh. She was torturing him and she was
delighted.
The crunch of the Acura's tires on the gravel driveway
was Chad's reprieve.
"Are we home already?" Barbara asked, releasing Chad
and struggling to sit up so she could see for herself.
"Yes," I answered as I pulled up the long, dark
driveway to our small wood frame house. A small light
illuminated the porch and front door, but the yard and
driveway were pitch black.
Barbara jumped out, clutching her blouse and jacket to
her bare breasts with one hand and working the seat
release with the other to free Chad from the back seat.
With his pants around his knees he floundered then
finally crawled out head first, dragging his legs
behind him. Barbara helped him to his feet and he
tugged his pants up but didn't bother with the zipper
or button.
"Hurry, Stan," Barbara urged as I fumbled with the key.
When the door swung open, Barbara brushed past me
pulling Chad behind her. She tossed her jacket and
blouse on the couch as she dragged Chad along, heading
straight for our bedroom.
I closed and locked the door and extinguished the porch
light, and then picked up her blouse and jacket and
hung them on the knob of the closet door. I could
already hear the dull sounds of the bed flexing with
their motions.
"Hurry, Chad," Barbara begged. "I can't wait anymore. I
want you inside me."
And then an exultant shout of joy.
"Yesss, yesss. Oh, Jesus. Yesss!"
By the time I reached the bedroom door, Chad had
mounted my wife and had filled her with his penis. Her
legs were splayed wide to accept him and her heels were
wrapped behind his thighs, trapping him and urging him
deeper though he needed no encouragement. The foreplay
was definitely over.
He fucked my wife with the long, powerful strokes of a
man driving for release. Barbara responded with shrieks
of delight and screams of passion. Her words were no
longer intelligible as she spoke only the language of
mounting lust.
Her fingers raked his back and grasped at his buttocks,
pulling him deeper into her as she bucked to meet his
every thrust.
Chad pushed himself up and worked her legs over his
shoulders, opening her completely to his penis which
now drove still deeper inside her as she whimpered and
cried out, face clenched in passion, head tossing from
side to side in unbridled desire.
Then with one hand he grabbed both her hands and pinned
them to the bed over her head. She was helpless and she
loved it. It didn't seem possible that she could find a
still higher level, but she did, teetering on the edge
of orgasm as he pounded still faster, still harder.
The sight and sound of Barbara's rapture made my head
spin and I leaned against the doorframe to catch my
balance. My penis throbbed and ached, and I could not
believe the lust that had arisen in me at the sight of
my wife being ravished by Chad. I reached down to
stroke myself through my trousers.
Then Barbara screamed.
"NNNNGGHHHH! AHHHHHHH!"
Her body heaved and bucked beneath Chad trying to pull
him deeper and more completely into herself as waves of
pleasure coursed through her writhing body.
"OH, GOD, DON'T STOP," she cried out. "Yes. Yes. Yes!"
Then Chad tensed and drove himself into her deeper and
harder than before. He threw his head back and let out
a guttural roar as he stiffened and ground his penis
deep inside my wife.
That's when my own orgasm exploded. My testicles
churned sending gush after gush of semen through my
quivering penis filling my underwear. A large dark
stain grew rapidly on the crotch of my trousers. But I
didn't care.
When I recovered, Chad had collapsed onto Barbara, her
hands still pinned over her head, her legs now lying
limp along his sides. They puffed with exhaustion. Then
Barbara freed her hands and cupped his face in them. As
she looked into Chad's eyes and asked him: "How did you
do that? I've never felt anything like that in my
life?"
I quietly stepped back from the door and thought to
myself, "I had better get some rest; tomorrow isn't
going to be the quiet day we planned."
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 34