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Subject: {ASSM} tonytony3's "The Contractor's Seduction (mmf, voyeur)
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This is a modified version of Life on Long Island, a story I posted a
year ago.
tonytony3's The Contractor's Seduction (mmf voyeur)
Marsha and I had each been married before, and after ending
our first marriages, enjoyed dating others before we found
each other. "Experienced" is a word that comes to mind.
Talking about those times sometimes became part of our love
making. She enjoyed hearing what happened to me.
"Jayne really used so much baby oil on you that you'd
have to change the sheets? Wasn't that messy?"
"Messy, and erotic," I'd tell her.
Of course, I'd get off on hearing what happened to her.
"You actually fucked him while you were climbing the
North Twin?"
"Not exactly, silly. I thought we were pretty far off the
trail."
"Not far enough, though, huh?"
"No, not far enough. We found out those guys were
watching because they started clapping when we were
done. I was so embarrassed I thought I'd die!"
I really liked that story. She told it often, and afterward, when
I'd tell her, "I'd have liked to have seen that!", her response
was usually "Well, maybe someday I'll do it again to show you."
Last month we decided to do some remodeling, removing a
wall between a TV room/den and living room and creating a
great room, instead. I interviewed a couple of contractors, and
settled on a young guy just starting in his business. The work
would only take him a few days, and the price was great. You
can probably guess where this is going, but you have to make
allowances, it was new to us.
He did well. Two days after he started I was looking over the
work - it was within hours of being done. Marsha was working
from our home and announced herself satisfied, too.
In bed that night she was a little more passionate than usual,
and we were well along in our lovemaking, when she slowed
down a little. "Remember me telling you about what happened
on the North Twin trail," she asked?
"I sure do."
"Remember what you'd say when I told you that story?"
"I told you I liked the story.'
"You used to say you wished you were there to watch, too."
She was right, I did say that.
"I would have liked to watch, that's right."
I had been making love, not having sex, with her. But I
changed modes, told her how I'd like to see her, as she was
now, legs spread, while her boyfriend would move between
those legs, and . . . I demonstrated.
"What about now? Would you like to watch me have sex with
someone else?"
I told her that if she'd have sex with someone while I watched,
I'd have to fuck her silly right then, as soon as I could. The
predictable happened - we both erupted. A few minutes later,
Marsha, snuggling next to me, muttered something.
"What did you say, honey?"
"Do you remember what I'd say about now, after we did that?"
"We would usually say 'I love you" and cuddle and go to
sleep."
"Well, sometimes, when you'd talk about wanting to have
watched me, I'd say "Maybe someday I'd let you see
something like that'''.
"I DO remember that."
"Do you still think you'd like to watch me someday for real, not
pretend?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I've been thinking about you watching me. I've been thinking
about it a lot the last couple of days. Would you like 'someday'
to be sometime soon, like, maybe tomorrow?"
I felt a stirring in my groin. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, Jim (he's the contractor) kind of made a pass at me
today, and he's handsome, and nice, and young, and
tomorrow's his last day here, and if you'd like something to
happen. . ."
"What kind of a pass did he make?"
"He just said he thought I was really pretty for an older
woman - "
"Older? You're just 35!!!"
"- And he wished this job was a lot longer because he liked
looking at me.
"I like looking at him, too. He works in his shorts, the sweat
makes him look really sexy, and then he goes to the guest
bathroom, and gets washed up and all, and I've been thinking
about that young body in there, and what I'd like to do with it
while you watched, and I wondered what it would be like going
in when he was there, and going up behind him when he was
washing up, and seducing him. . ."
My cock was responding so fast it was scary - I had her on her
back, and was in her again even before I could respond in
words as images - forbidden images - raced through my mind.
"I wonder too," I said, as I was pounding into her, and as she
was responding, and just before that magic moment, that "little
death", just before we both climaxed, again, I grunted "Do it --
show me".
Afterwards, I wanted to know: "How would you do it? What
would we do? Would you really go in while he was washing
up. . .?"
"I thought if you liked the idea we could drop your car off at
the garage for that brake job first thing in the morning. Your
car would be gone so it would look like you were at work. We
could come back here, and Jim would come and finish his
work, and then I'd bring him in here somehow. You could stay
in the cubby, and watch through the louvers, and I'd try to
seduce him. I'd like to try, and if you'd like to watch, well . ."
Oh, I have to tell you about the cubby. Our house's master bed
room started off with his and her closets. We turned one of
them, a 6 by 8 foot room, into a small office/computer room.
It's our 'cubby'. The louvered doors helps the ventilation.
.We hadn't made love or had sex three times in a single night
for a long, long, time, but we did then.
We slept, awoke early. Her first words after a good morning
kiss were "Steve, are you going to go to the office today?"
I had nothing pressing at work today, but that wouldn't have
mattered, anyway. I said "No", and rolled onto her.
"I do want to do this with Jim while you watch. What do you
think of that? Would you like it?" she asked, knowing the
answer.
"You know it!"
"Steve honey," she said, knowing exactly what she was doing,
"if I do it, just think. Before you're in me again like you are right
now, someone else's cock will be doing what you're doing to me!"
I usually don't ejaculate prematurely, but did, then.
We dressed, and changed the bedding into the cream colored
satin sheets we used on special occasions.
"It's strange, getting ready to watch someone have sex with
you. . ."
"I never thought it would happen, either, but this guy's really
sexy. . ."
We dashed out, I dropped off my car for the needed service,
and sped home. We weren't in the house for more than five
minutes before the unsuspecting but perhaps hopeful Jim
arrived.
I got some stuff ready in the cubby, then watched from the
bedroom window as this tee shirt and shorts clad young man
took some tools from his truck and made his way up to the
front door.
Marsha went to the door, let him in.
In moments I heard hammering, and Marsha came to the bed
room.
"Are you still OK with this?"
"You bet" I whispered back.
She smiled at me, her fledging voyeur, sitting on a chair,
reading a.s.s.m. stories, the only light coming from the
computer screen. She took out a fairly modest , but bright red,
silky negligee and matching robe from the closet.
I watched through the louvers as she carefully draped the
ensemble on the bedroom chair. She left the room after
whispering "Advertising", and that she had to do a few things,
and that I had to be patient.
In a half hour I heard noises. Marsha came into the bedroom,
whispered "the spider's wiggling the web," then shouted "The
guest bathroom isn't working, come up here, you'll have to use
mine."
I saw Jim come in, bare chested, sweaty. She pointed to the
bathroom door, and then left the bedroom. He went into the
bath room.
He came out in a minute, zipping himself up, and glanced
around the room. He touched the red garment she had placed
on the chair, and closed his eyes, his hand adjusting himself in
the shorts, grabbing at his crotch. This is the man who my wife
chose to turn "maybe someday" into "today". In a minute he
left the room.
Two minutes later Marsha came to the cubby door.
"Doesn't he look sexy?" she asked the louvered door, and it
responded "Yes!".
"It's going to be fun seducing him in front of you."
The voice in the dark cubby could hardly speak it was so
horny, but eventually I could squawk a "yeah" from behind
parched lips.
Now she turned down the bed, folding the cover on a long
diagonal, making it look inviting, exposing the sheets.
More advertising.
Later I heard Marsha shout from some part of the house,
"Sure you can use it -- the bathroom's in the same place". I
went to watch through the louvers as Jim came to the
bedroom again, sweatier still. He paused, obviously noticed
the bed, and touched the negligee, and went to the bathroom,
leaving the door open. Marsha came into the bedroom too,
and was standing there as we heard him urinate, heard him
wash his hands, and saw him come out, drying them on a
towel he had in his back pocket.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here" he stuttered, when
he saw her there.
"No problem, it's just a bedroom" she said, walking over to the
chair, picking up the nightgown.
"It's a nice room" he said, watching her, as she held the
flowing material in her hands.
"I like it too" she said, looking at him looking at her, as she
held the garment he'd want her to have on so he could take it
off of her body. He had an erection his shorts couldn't quite
hide.
He left, and Marsha came to talk to me. "It's going to happen
pretty soon."
"Good."
An hour later she came into the bed room, opened the cubby
door, and whispered. "He's finished, and just cleaning up. It's
not too late to say 'Uncle'."
"Aunt."
"OK. You asked for it. Pay attention, now," and left the door
open.
"Watch me get ready."
She took the night clothing from the chair, quickly took off her
skirt and blouse, bra and panties, and put them on the chair,
so that the replacement of night clothes with the clothes she
had on was obvious. I had seen her nude before, but never
like this, getting ready to display herself, to seduce, to fuck,
someone else. It's quite an experience, guys. She sat at her
cosmetics dresser, dabbed some perfume behind her ears, in
her cleavage. She put on the negligee - red, knee high,
cleavage exposed, back exposed, smooth except where the
smoothness was interrupted by the swelling of her breasts, by
her erect nipples. Subtle, but the change of color, from tanned
skin to white, was hinted at. The darkness of her areola were
suggested, and her thatch of pubic hair created a little more
than a shadow. Subtle, but when she walked in front of the
window, outlines of her body, my wife's body, were vividly
displayed. "Last chance, honey," she said. "Do you want to
Jim to see me like this?" I made a squawking noise, an
affirmative one, again. She pulled the robe on over the
negligee. Two layers of the same material made it look
modest, sexy but in a subdued way. She came into the
cubby. We kissed, I touched her, and felt heat, moisture.
Moisture that was to make it easy for a different cock to move
there. "Go easy, honey, you'll be getting yours soon, and
getting your fantasy fulfilled even sooner" she muttered.
"You feel ready," I told her.
"I am. Scared, but ready."
A moment or two later we heard him call: "All done," he
shouted.
"That's what he thinks," she said to me. "He's just getting
started." She left the cubby, and went out of the bedroom,
and I heard her say "Wait for me in my bed room, I'll pay
you". I noticed it was just 1PM. He came in, sweaty, looking
a little surprised at the pile of clothes where her night clothing
had been, at her, at the bed folded back, the sheets inviting . .
. something. He went to her clothing, looked at the pile, picked
up her panties, and sniffed at them. He looked toward the
door, checking to see if he was alone, and put them in his
pocket.
A moment later Marsha came in, robe flowing on her body, a
can of beer in one hand, a mixed drink for her in the other.
She handed him the beer, sipped the drink, and went to the
desk. The expression on his face was priceless. This was
the stuff letters to Penthouse were made of. Maybe stories to
a.s.s.m., too. Maybe he'd write one!
Marsha, her back to him, couldn't see his face, but she knew
what was going on. "I'll write your check. My purse and
checkbook are right here" she said, opening the drawer. She
got out the check book, and he stood behind her. The
movement as she bent forward parted the robe, so that her
legs, covered with the translucent nightgown, were exposed.
Oh, there's no question that this was going to work.
I watched as she opened the check book. I saw him drain the
beer, put his hand on the robe covering her shoulder. She
wrote the check, tore it out, and handed it to him, over her
shoulder. He pocketed it with one hand, then began to rub
her shoulders, then paused, unsure if he had license to
continue.
She looked at him over her shoulder --She does that over the
shoulder glance so well -- and turned back, and sipped her
drink.
"That feels nice," she said, "you do more than carpentry."
"When I can," he said, rubbing more now, knowing the contact
was welcome.
"I like that," she said, responding to his rubbing.
He continued for a moment.
"Jim?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"What exactly did you mean yesterday, when you said 'I was
pretty for an older woman?'"
"I meant" he stuttered, "that compared to the girls I date you're
like a real woman. . ."
"Just what do you know about women who are ten years older
than you?"
"Nothing - just to be respected - just, you know, beautiful,
sophisticated, more experienced, I mean worldly, not like the
girls I date, like, you're married, untouchable, kind of
mysterious. . ."
"Untouchable?"
"Kind of, you're married and all. . ."
"Do I look untouchable?"
"You look beautiful and sexy".
"Do I look untouchable?"
"Kind of."
Marsha stood, facing him. She shrugged the robe off,
revealing the negligee, with a back that reached almost to her
buttocks, shoulder straps holding a deep vee neckline,
showing the sides of her breasts. Jim was looking around
the room, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car at
night.
"Untouchable?"
"No, not now."
"Do you like what you see?"
"It's - you're - incredible. I heard about things like this
happening, I never thought it would happen to me. . . "
She turned around, modeling, then faced him. I never
appreciated how revealing it was. The thin straps at the
shoulders and deep neckline were stunning, and I saw that it
exposed most of her back. I had seen see all of that, and
knew that so could Jim.
"I'm not too old to wear something like this?"
"It's beautiful - I mean, it's beautiful on you, I mean. . ."
She continued slowly turning, for his inspection. "I'm wearing
it for you, Jim. Do you like it on me, an 'older woman'?"
"I didn't mean to say that yesterday, or insult you."
She moved towards him.
"Your husband. . ."
"His car is being serviced. He can't do anything until I get him."
"Uh,"
"You've been wondering about me all the time you've been
working here haven't you?"
"Uh,"
"You wondered what it would be like to be like this, in this
bedroom..."
". . .maybe. . ."
"You like the idea, don't you?"
She stood in front of him, her back to me. "Do you think you
know how to please an older woman? Do you think you could
please me, so I could please you in return?" He didn't
answer, but stepped toward her.
Her arms extended, reaching up, around his head. His were
stroking the skin of her back, then over the material, to her
ass.
"Have any of your girlfriends ever seduced you like this. . . "
she asked, holding him as his arms and hands explored her
back.
"Never."
"Have you ever made love to a woman much older than you?"
"Never. . ."
"You mean, I hope, not until now."
"Yeah, not until now, but I. . ."
"You what?"
"I never did anything with a married woman. . ."
"You mean, until now?"
"Yeah, that's right, until now. . ."
She broke his embrace. She turned her back to him, and
looked at him over her shoulder. I wish the people reading this
could see how she looks when she looks at you like that, her
body almost hidden, almost revealed, her hair to her
shoulders, her back, her legs. The negligee, draping,
exposed more of the sides of her breasts, and the start of the
cleavage between her buttocks. She smiled, reached behind
her for his hand, took it, and took him, this man who just
might live a fantasy while filling ours, to the bed. My wife is
wonderful! She sat him down, and in a moment had his
sneakers and socks off. Another push, and his still sweaty
body was flat on its back. The bed was beside the cubby, I
watched in profile as my wife lifted the nightgown above her
knees so she could straddle him. Then, when she was in
position, it puddled between her legs, which were exposed to
about mid thigh. I'm sure her crotch, naked, was resting on his
shorts.
"I wanted to see you on my bed," she told him, and me.
She doesn't do things half way, does she? I hoped this
wouldn't end prematurely, either. She sat upright, looking
down at this young man, prone, under her.
"Older women are more experienced, Jim. We know how to
please ourselves, and the men we have sex with."
She was rocking, moving, her pelvis over his shorts, being
provocative, doing what we used to call a 'dry fuck'.
"Show me, show me you know how to please men you
have sex with. Show me what a married woman can do,"
he said.
He lay there, watching, as she stopped moving, and knelt
upright. She moved her right arm to her left shoulder,
found the strap,
and moved it out over the end of her shoulder, and pulled
her left arm through it, holding the flimsy material over her
breast with her hand.
"My breasts are very sensitive," she said. I know that was true.
"Very sensitive to being touched, to being kissed." He reached
to her, his hands at her waist, and pulled. She leaned forward,
he raised his head, nuzzled at her cleavage, then her breast,
through the material. The first real sexual contact! I
watched my wife lower her arm, so that the cloth was held over
her breast only by his mouth. And I watched him pull his head
back, so the material could fall away, exposing her breast, her
nipple. "Yes, I like that," she encouraged him, and I saw his
mouth once again open, taking in the brown nugget, suckling
at her tit, his arms around her, holding her to him. My own
erection was almost painful. I may be the one who's
premature. She leaned into him, back arched, enjoying the
new experience, this new mouth, one of her hands supporting
herself on the headboard, the other, under her breast, lifting it,
presenting its nipple, to his mouth.
He stopped, lay back, looking at this woman, now more
upright, sitting on him, on his pelvis, one breast exposed, the
other nipple evident, as she leaned over him, arms on the
headboard. His hands moved to her cloth covered hips, then
over the pooled material, down her legs, until they were on the
flesh of her outer thighs.
Touching her skin.
"I know how to please women," he said, running his hands up
her thighs, now under the material, lifting it, as his hands
moved to her hips, then further, as he did a bit of a crunch, to
her buttocks. I could see him pulling at her, as he lay back
down, as she sat a little more upright, her legs on either side
of him, knees moving, sliding on the satin, up along his body,
and he pulled more, and now I could see the garment was
lifted, draped over his forearms, her pelvis was probably
exposed, and she was moving, being moved, up his body, her
vagina no longer over his shorts, but now on his belly, then his
chest. Could he feel, even now, how wet she was? She
looked down at this man, both of her hands now holding onto
the bed's head board, as he pulled some more, his eyes not
focused on her face anymore, but rather, along and between
his arms, under her negligee, at her pubic mount, and he
continued to pull, her knees moving and slipping on the satin,
and spreading, until they were beside his shoulders, her
vagina was at his chest. He wasn't shy about looking into its
open lips!
She wasn't shy, either, about having it on view.
"If your breasts are sensitive, you probably are here, too!"
He pulled still more
and more
sliding her higher,
high on his chest,
then to his chin.
His head had been resting on the pillow, but he lifted it now,
I saw his lips on her inner thigh,
and then she gasped - arched her back.
Her cunt was at his mouth, as his tongue touched, explored,
and found what was, at this instant, her most sensitive part.
Her hips begin rocking, but not enough to prevent him from
tasting what he wanted. His hands left her buttocks, moved
instead, over and around her legs, meeting at her vagina,
and his fingers spread it, opening it more, holding her, spread
wide, in place, while he licked, and sucked, and nibbled at
her.
"My girlfriends like this, a lot!"
I saw her hips moving in that timeless rhythm,
her back arched,
one uncovered nipple erect
one breast still covered,
his mouth open, tongue touching, sucking,
her face red, mouth open, panting,
until,
until she made a whimpering cry,
until she shuttered,
the stiff arch of her back collapsing,
her head resting on her arms on the headboard,
her body sagging over him, on him.
There were still small shivers - small spasms. Then her body
was quiet. Satisfied.
"I do like that," she muttered.
That was not a fake orgasm! Neither was mine. I realized
how important it was to me that she enjoy this encounter. A
moment passed. He lifted her by the hips from him. His face
was awash with moisture. He put her beside him on the bed
and sat up.
He pulled her to a sitting, then a kneeling position. "I'll show
what else my girlfriends like." He pulled at her negligee.
"Take it off!" This woman, this wife, my wife, still flushed, was
no longer in control. He was. She was now a vessel for him,
a vessel for him to empty his passion, his lust. I watched as
she freed the garment from under her body. I watched as
she reached behind her neck, and pulled its back up. How,
with her hands behind her, she lifted it hand over hand, and
how it lifted from her ass, exposing her back again. This
exposure, though, as she lifted this barrier, was very different
than the back that showed earlier. This was the back of a
women I loved, the back, I hoped, wanted, to be pressed into
the bed by his weight. The material was draped over her lap.
Then, she moved from kneeling with her buttocks on her
heels, to kneeling upright, and then, still with that hand over
hand motion, lifted the negligee from her lap, too, and over
her breasts, and then there was a moment when it covered
only her head and her arms, held above her head, with all of
the rest of her body, upright, exposed, available: that
wonderful neck, those breasts, the triangle of pubic hair. And
that moment ended, too, as she put the flowing, red garment,
her last barrier, aside.
And my wife was undressed, nude, exposed, kneeling there,
looking incredibly sexy, in front of this man. I know he had
tasted every important part of her, but the image of that
nightgown coming off over her head while he watched, and I
watched, and all it symbolized, will stay with me forever. He
got up, and stood at the foot of the bed, watching as this
married woman prepared herself for him.
his cock.
his passion.
his
semen.
His hand moved to his belt, then paused.
"You do it. Take them off. I want you to undress me, to get my
cock out."
She moved to the edge of the bed, sat, legs apart, he was
standing between them.
She unhooked the belt.
Unbuttoned the waistband.
Lowered the zipper.
Put a hand on either side of his hips, which still glistened with
sweat.
Looked up at his face, as he stood there, hands on hips,
watching her. I watched my wife as she pulled downwards,
moving shorts and white briefs lower, exposing a tan line, a
wide patch of dark hair that narrowed, vectoring downward,
and then, a first an inch of shaft, then another, and another,
until finally the head of his penis was free, pulsing, ready to be
touched, to be immersed, in her, in my wife, where for the
past years only mine had been. The intensity on his face, the
engorged size of his cock, gave proof that he, and it, were
going to appreciate using this present, this body made for sex,
this woman with an active imagination, filling this "maybe
someday" concept, on the bed..
The shorts, now unencumbered, fell to the floor. He stepped
out of his clothing, and now they were both nude - no, naked.
Her torso, and his, tanned except white where bathing suits
covered them, were, with those tan lines, all the more naked,
sexy, almost obscene. My own hand was gripping my own
erection now, again, as he moved my wife prone, on her back.
"This is what I like to do" he said, as he knelt beside her. He
bent over, his tongue found her ear. She shuttered, began
blushing. He leaned, and his tongue dragged along her neck.
He moved more, his knees beside her head, and his mouth
covered her breast. Another movement, and his head was at
her navel, and his cock was near her head. It was getting to
be a classic position.
"You know what to do, don't you? This time, you do me, while I
do you." Her hands went to his hips, she pulled, he
moved, and now his knees were on either side of her head.
Her hands took his cock. His tongue by now was at her pubic
hair, his hands were spreading her, again.
She looked at the erect penis just above her face, and I saw
her tongue wetting her lips, anticipating. Her hips jerked in a
small spasm as he buried his head there, his tongue there.
I saw her move, and saw what I had until now fantasized
about, saw her mouth open, saw him lift, and move, to
accommodate her,
until
until
until he was in her mouth, and then out, and now her mouth
was on his scrotum, and back to the side of his shaft, and her
hands controlled what she sucked on and bit and licked. Her
mouth was busy, and her legs were bent at the knees, her
hips heaving, as if the treasure between her legs was also
being invaded by the treasure at her mouth, instead of his
tongue. He stopped doing her, and did what amounted to a
push-up, so he could look up along their bodies so he could
watch her do what she was doing, as she did him.
"That looks so sexy,' he said, his hips moving, his cock fucking
that willing mouth.
She was giving pleasure to this man who until now had been
pleasing her. Giving pleasure to me, too, as I realized how
important it was to me that she play an active role in this, and
not just be a body for him to use. He watched as his cock
and balls were being serviced by this woman. He saw her
mouth open, take its head, suck. He saw her tongue lick its
shaft, its underside., kiss at his scrotum. He saw all of that,
watching, almost as a spectator, like me, as she explored and
tasted every part of his sex, her hand on the shaft, stroking
him into her mouth!
I heard her say "I don't want it to end this way. . ." before she
filled her mouth again with him.
Then, he stopped her. "Don't worry, It's not going to end that
way, that easy!" he said, and moved away from her body,
both his cock and his face wet now. He knelt, straddling her
knees. He took one of her legs, put it outside his. He
repeated the same thing with the other leg. Now he was
kneeling between her legs. He took an ankle in each hand,
forcing her knees up, and apart. But not much force was
needed, those legs positioned themselves as he wanted,
willingly. He put a hand beside her cheek, and moved it
down, and found her breast again. Those fingers pinched at
her nipples, then traced further down, over her pubic mount,
to her cunt. Her mouth opened with a sharp breath as they
found that warm, wet pocket, ready for them, ready for more
than fingers. He knelt there between her legs, his cock in
one hand, looking at her, so exposed, so available.
"It's going to end this way!"
He released his cock, got his hands on her hips, lifted.
She helped, holding her hips off the bed, doing what he
wanted. He reached
or, and found a pillow, and pushed it under her hips, so that
when she relaxed they stayed high, presenting her cunt to him.
Her hand reached toward his cock as she ached her body,
supporting herself on her feet and the small of her back,
bringing her vagina closer to that erect penis. As she had
done for me only last night , she took his erection and led it to
her cunt, and moved closer. Her hand was on his cock,
guiding, his on her hips, lifting, centering her vagina,
suspended there, open, hungry, in front of him. I saw her
mouth open, heard a sharp intake of breath, as he thrust with
his hips, entering her. Obviously his cock found little
resistance, since that vagina had been fucked only that
morning, and excited for the last while. His weight pushed her
raised pelvis and ass onto the pillow. My own mouth fell
open - until now it was foreplay - serious, but foreplay. Now,
though, it was intercourse - fucking! Concepts of fidelity,
love, crowded into my mind. I realized what was happening
had nothing, or everything, to do with them - it was for our
mutual pleasure. I loved it. All of it! All of that, in the instant it
took for her legs to go flat, then circle his body, ankles
crossed, holding him to her. I saw his hips rock back and
forth as he entered, withdrew, entered again, saw her hips lift,
only to be pushed down by his weight, as he fucked her, and
she, him. I could see flashes of erect penis, wet, glistening,
then disappearing as he penetrated her. I could see her own
hip movements, moving in opposition to his, withdrawing as he
withdrew, lifting and thrusting as he pushed in. I heard the
slapping of pelvises, their grunts, and my own, as I
masturbated in time with their own movements. I by now had
ejaculated all over the door as I watched: he moved with
longer, slower strokes than I do. He had one hand sometimes
gripping her breast, and other times sometimes between the
both of them, feeling his cock and her cunt, and then moving
to his own mouth as he tasted the mixture of her lubrication
and saliva, and then he moistened his fingers again with the
fluids that were flowing, and I heard his say - no, demand -
"taste us!", and I saw her, licking his fingers, meeting his
thrusts with her own, making whimpering noises that meant
she was close to another orgasm, then having it, as she
fucked him.
"Do you get to do this with every women you date?" she
panted, meeting his movements.
"It's better, fucking someone's wife," he grunted, fucking MY
wife.
In only a few minutes I heard him say "I can't hold off any
more" and he went rigid, as she rose to meet him, as his pace
changed, and the thrusts were harder,
hard enough to make her release her legs from around him,
hard enough so that they remained open, knees bent, as this
engine between them drove harder and deeper,
and he stayed in her longer, and he
emptied himself
into
her --my wife!
And then, after a last thrust, and another, he rolled off, spent.
It was over. Young men can't keep it up as long as older
ones, I guess. He took a few minutes rest, and then looked at
the clock. "It's 1:45. I got a date this afternoon, I gotta go. I
hope I have enough left for her, too."
1:45! It only took 45 minutes! Incredible! He left the bed,. In
moments he had his shorts and shoes on. In another
moment, she had on her robe. Without a word, he grabbed
her, for a final - and I realized, also a first - kiss, and pulled
open her robe, and groped at the playthings under it he had
enjoyed, and, he left.
I was out of the cubby as soon as he left the room, stripped
naked by the time the front door closed. Marsha looked at
me tentatively : "Are you all right?" I didn't say a word.
I did reach for her, though, and push her on the bed.
The bed was wet! Wet with her, wet with him!
And soon, wet with me, too.
Marsha, under me, feeling me move in her, feeling me feel all
that was there that wasn't from me, could feel me grow bigger,
hotter, until I too emptied what I had left into her, too.
"Yes," she said, "you ARE all right!"
I rested my head on her shoulder, and noticed the clock.
Only 2 o'clock!
Sometimes, wonderful things don't take long, do they?
Did you enjoy the story? Let me know..
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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