Don Jetman
Member
Posts: 3126
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#1 · Edited by: Don Jetman
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This is an oldie - a telling of a summer party at L's very first lover's home. It was my first cuckolding in public, so to speak, with his many friends and guests as unsuspecting(?) onlookers. We were so green at the time, but so willing to play. Fond memories of an Independence Day in the distant past...
Independence Day
by Don Jetman
In late June we received a party invitation from Dave. It was a simple white
card with a thin gold border, containing the date, time, his phone number and
address. Just below the "RSVP" he had written, in parenthesis, "By L. please."
So, he wanted my wife to accept for both of us. I was of two minds about the
situation. On one hand, I was flattered that he would have us as guests in his
home. It showed he trusted us, and that he accepted us in his social circle. And
of course, I was excited by what he might have in mind for us. On the other
hand, it was an extension of friendship, maybe even intimacy. Were our games
leading to a closeness between Dave and my wife that I might regret? L. seemed
delighted when she read the card - too delighted? But really, how could we not
go? How could I show jealousy or insecurity at this point, possibly destroying
our relationship with Dave? Revealing doubts about my wife's honesty and trust
would surely hurt her, and possibly end her willingness to play our games with
Dave in the future. With a stiff upper lip, I agreed that we should go. She
called him that same night and accepted, speaking quietly into the phone as I
pretended not to eavesdrop on their conversation. Afterwards, she snuggled up
beside me in bed. Teasing me with a grin I knew all too well, she asked me if I
minded going to "her boyfriend's" party with her. I told her I couldn't wait. We
fucked like it was our wedding night.
The night of the party, L. surprised me again. I stared as she primped in front
of the mirror. She wore the flimsiest pair of black panties I'd ever seen. I saw
her glancing at me in the mirror as she fixed her hair, trying to catch me
ogling her. The material was practically transparent, like a second skin that
covered only a small portion of each ass cheek. She had obviously been shopping
earlier that week - where, I can only imagine. When she finally turned to face
me, I saw that the lacy elastic barely covered the top of her slit, baring her
entire lower belly. The material below molded her outer labia as though it was
painted over her skin. I could make out every detail of her sex. The panties
looked as though they might disintegrate if given the slightest tug. Is that
what she wanted? Was this an invitation for Dave to help himself to what lie
beneath? Obviously it was.
Her dress was new as well - another "little black dress", but one that was much
more daring than the one I was used to. I was hard as a rock as she slipped into
it, and she knew it. Form-fitting, but not too tight, it barely covered the
black panties, reaching only to the very tops of her thighs. The neckline rode
just above her breasts, baring her shoulders, arms, and neck in a breathtaking
expanse of white flesh. A tiny black strap rose over each shoulder, each
delicately assuring the neckline stayed tantalizingly in place. Without nylons
or bra, it screamed she was naked underneath. Except for the wisp of panties,
she was.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. L.'s breasts aren't large, but they're very
nicely shaped, with large pink areola and nipples that harden easily to
surprisingly hard, swollen buttons that always shamelessly reveal her mood. It
took me a while to notice when we were dating, but eventually I found that in
the summer, when she wore a tube-top, or went braless, when a guy came on to
her, her nipples would stiffen embarrassingly, encouraging him even more, even
though she swore she wasn't interested in the least. Even today, when we have
sex and I close my palms over her breasts, her nipples extend well through my
spread fingers. I saw immediately that she was excited - the dress of course
failed to hide the two firm points rising against the thin black fabric. After
slipping into the black heels, she was a woman no man could resist, a woman
screaming to be fucked. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little
jealous. I wanted her just as badly as any other man at the party would want
her. But she wasn't mine tonight. She would be his as though we had wrapped her
in fancy paper and a bow and given her to him as a present. "Here Dave, for you.
Enjoy her." And of course I knew he wouldn't hesitate. He would enjoy every inch
of her.
Three emotions converged to *** me as I watched her put the finishing
touches on her makeup and tease a few stray strands of hair into place: raging
desire for her (physically and emotionally), a nagging raw excitement fed by my
images of L. and Dave together, naked in each others arms, and a disconcerting
angst, a relentless worry that by "giving" her to him so often, so willingly,
that he might actually take her from me, and that she might willingly accept him
as her man. All this churned inside me, building in intensity, finally reaching
a rolling boil by the time we left the house. I was literally trembling as I
drove. L. was so beautiful beside me, her bare shoulders glowing in the dim
light, her eyes so anxious as she turned to smile at me now and then. What was
she thinking? How much did she really want him? What were we stepping into this
night?
Dave greeted us at his door, welcoming both of us, then kissing L. warmly on the
cheek. He hesitated a few seconds too long as his lips met her skin. She blushed
and acted startled for a second, but then closed her eyes and seemed to enjoy
his touch. He stood there in his usual way, his hands on her bare shoulders,
this time caressing her skin lightly with his fingers, undressing her with his
eyes as I stood by and watched. I could see the lust in his eyes. I could feel
the air of casualness and superiority that flowed so effortlessly from every
pore of his body. There was an electricity between them, a surging current that
also charged my own collection of fantasies and fears to an almost painful
level.
As he closed the door behind us he wasted no time implying that L. would be his
companion for the night. "You don't mind if I steal her away from you for a
while, do you?" he asked with a grin. "I suppose not," I told him. I'm sure I
looked less than eager to see her go off with him. But off they went, his hand
placed firmly at the small of her back as he guided her into a large room full
of guests. I found the bar and poured myself a double scotch on the rocks,
peering into the spaces between small groups of people, more than a little
curious to watch them together. They moved through the crowd, stopping here and
there to make small talk. He introduced her to everyone in the first hour, but I
was never able to hear exactly how, or what he said until I moved closer,
playing the voyeur he knew I'd become. To my surprise, he told the two couples
nearby that L. had come with her husband, Don, all the while running his hand up
and down her back. He circled her waist and pulled her very close, giving her a
slight hug as he talked, turning to wink at her when the couples smiled warmly
at his remark about how "dependably gorgeous" she was. I couldn't see L.'s face,
but she wasn't fighting his advances and seemed to be at home tucked comfortably
and closely into his side. They weren't the perfect couple - he was much taller
and a little too old for her, but to a careful observer it looked very much like
a May-December infatuation. I cringed when I thought about what people might
think, and worse yet, what I would say to them (and they to me) when the time
came when I was powerd to mingle. The offense was creeping up on me,
threatening to become dangerously real in what could become a very uncomfortable
situation.
To my surprise, my fears were unfounded. Everyone I met was friendly and polite,
never once bringing up the fact that Dave was boldly forward about treating L.
as much more than just a friend. I began to wonder if they were all part of some
elaborate plan of Dave's to disorient me. If they were, it was certainly
working. It was as though I was in the middle of some surreal dream. Dave
continued to paw her in plain view of these people. They knew I was L.'s
husband, but strangely, no one seemed to notice or care. I met a few very normal
couples, most of whom were involved in the arts in some way - an editor that
worked at Dave's publishing house and his extraordinarily beautiful wife, and a
writer for several small budget motion pictures and his quiet, somewhat
mysterious Asian wife. A slim, athletic brunette sat with me for some time, her
conversation laced with carefully worded sexual innuendoes. I was flattered -
she must have been in her early twenties, with a fire in her eyes that left
nothing about her intentions to the imagination. Until - I discovered she was
really interested in L., finally asking me outright if L. had ever been with a
woman. So, my ego fell a few notches, and the confusion and angst came creeping
back.
Eventually Dave found me and suggested we go to the bar for another take. On
the way he told me quietly, in his matter-of-fact manner, "You know I'm going to
fuck her tonight, don't you?" I glanced around us as we walked, now afraid
someone must have heard him. No looks, no attention from anyone. He kept looking
at me, watching my response, as though he expected an answer. When we reached
the bar, I told him as quietly as I could, "I wasn't sure, but I guess I
shouldn't be surprised." He looked down at the glasses as he poured us two
takes. "Would you be surprised if I told you she begged me for it, just a few
minutes ago, right over there?" he said. As strange as the night had become, as
uncertain as I had become about my surroundings, I honestly didn't know if he
was telling me the truth or not. L. had willingly accepted his attention all
evening, welcoming his hands on her, playing his girlfriend to the smallest
detail. Had she really begged him for sex, and if so, was it merely more role-
playing, or did she sincerely "beg"? In my head, I could almost hear her voice,
breathless and urgent, purring with pent-up heat that had been simmering all
evening. Soft and simple. "Please, take me."
I suppose my discomfort began to show, because he stared at me for a long time,
then for the first time since we've known him, he dropped out of character and
asked me if I was ok. He seemed to be genuinely concerned. "I'm fine," I assured
him. "So, she begged for sex?" He smiled and said, "Wouldn't you want her to?
You would, wouldn't you?" Calmed by his concern, I grinned back at him, and told
him, "I know what she's like when she begs for it. I guess now you know too." He
handed me my take and nodded. "Yes, I do," he said seriously, slipping easily
back into his role.
"Her panties are amazing," he said suddenly. "But they're in my way. I'd like
you to take them off for me. I'd appreciate the gesture." "You've seen them?" I
blurted, trying to imagine when he would have had the opportunity. Had she shown
him? A quick flash as she lifted her dress during a discreet moment? I had no
doubt that she chose them for him. Had she planned how she would seduce him when
she bought them? How she would tease him with glimpses of the tiny scrap of
material that left nothing between her legs to his imagination? Could he see how
her pussylips parted and moistened for him? The mix of excitement and confusion
returned. He smiled again and walked away.
I found L. and guided her to a quiet corner of the room. I took a deep breath,
then told her, "He wants me to take your panties off." There was a day when she
would have been shocked, or at least would have hesitated at such an outrageous
request. Instead, her eyes widened in recognition of what I was required to do.
She knew Dave was not only s*******fully manipulating us in public again, but was
also making me participate by removing the only thin barrier between his
advances and the wet tender flesh just inside her plump labia. As she does so
often, she went from a moment of raw excitement to her little girl teasing. She
knew I couldn't resist the coy smile and the voice that dripped with both
innocence and heat. "Do you always do what my boyfriend wants?" she teased. For
some reamister, the implication of her words had me hard again. The urge to go
forward with the game was overwhelming, without any fear or reservation. I
wanted this more than ever before. I leaned close to her and whispered in her
ear. "He's going to fuck you, isn't he?" She looked straight into my eyes and
answered solemnly, "Yes, he is."
We slipped into one of the bathrooms and locked the door. L. simply raised her
dress and waited. I'll never be able to fully describe how erotic she looked,
holding the tiny dress about her waist - the mouth-watering curves of her
exposed hips and ass, the slim lines of her smooth, bare thighs, all accented by
the lacy panties and black heels. Once again, wanting her so desperately, but
knowing he would take her instead, that he had all the power and I was there
only to give my wife to him, made me crazy with lust. I surrendered to the scene
before me, went to my knees, and slowly slid the panties down her legs. She put
a hand on my shoulder to balance herself as she lifted one foot, then the other
while I slipped the panties over her heels. She held the dress around her waist
while I stood, obviously knowing how the sight of her exposed like that excited
me. I knew what she was telling me - that this is what her "boyfriend" would see
when she lifted her dress for him, and that he would do more than just look.
Foolishly, I took a step toward her and leaned in to kiss her. She turned her
cheek to me at the last minute, making the kiss more friendly than sexy, then
lowered the dress and held firmly me at arm's-length. "I don't think this is
what my boyfriend had in mind," she told me, grinning. "I have to get back." She
opened the door and went ahead of me. I watched the tiny dress move over her
ass, knowing that her sex was so close, so open and available for him any time,
as many times as he decided to take her.
It wasn't long before L. was by his side again, chatting with his guests and
allowing him to put his hands on her as he wished. As I watched them from the
bar, a frighteningly gorgeous blonde reached past me for a bottle of white wine.
I tried not to stare as she filled her glass. "David seems quite taken with your
wife," she said as she reached across me again to return the bottle to the open
space in the collection of wines and cuckold waters. I stumred for a reply, then
mumred something about them being good friends. She watched them intently,
never looking directly at me as she spoke. "They look like very good friends,"
she remarked coolly, still eyeing them with amused interest. When I didn't
answer her, she turned to me suddenly. I watched a smile grow across her face.
"You know, don't you?" she said, beaming. I could feel myself go pale. What
could I say? Who was she? I believe I nodded. "And, you're ok with it?" she
asked. I struggled to say - something - but in the end I just nodded again.
Finally, someone had noticed Dave's obvious advances. The dreamlike quality of
the night ended abruptly for me, smacking me in the face with a beautiful,
blonde, cold dose of reality. Our game had officially been made public, and the
ambivalence I felt at the onset of the evening swept over me like a tsunami.
"Well, I'm Gail," she said, finally introducing herself. She shook my hand
lightly. Her fingers were long, soft, and sympathetic. I took a breath and told
her my name. "Well, Don," she told me, "your wife's very a lucky girl." Before I
could think of an answer, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, her exit as
swift as her arrival.
As I stared into my fourth scotch, I struggled to reconcile my feelings. The
game had started as an idea, almost a story plot. Dave was the fictitious
"officer", playing the Dom to L. and I. He would visit us and use her in front
of me, L. playing the terrified wife who was powerd to submit to his
perversions, finally surrendering to him and her own passions. But an element I
hadn't planned on was creeping into our role-playing. On several occasions now,
L. had referred to him as her "boyfriend". The first was innocent enough, after
a dinner staged by Dave to cleverly and discreetly cuckold me in public while he
played L.'s lover. Later, as I fondled her in our bedroom, I wanted to know if
Dave had done the same, to which she answered, "Well, he's my 'boyfriend', isn't
he?" At the time, it made me hot. It fit the circumstances, and I knew she was
teasing me. On this night, he was playing her boyfriend again, in public, and L.
was apparently deeply involved in her part. I knew her intent when she called
him her boyfriend again in the bathroom while I stripped the panties off her.
She knew I liked it before, and wanted to play her part to perfection. But was
she enjoying this element a little too much? She still grinned when she said the
words, but she seemed to love playing the part, and loved teasing me with the
idea. On the other hand, was I forgetting how lucky I was? How many men would
give anything to have a wife that would play this game? After so much
introspection when we first talked about making our fantasy a reality, had I
really become so insecure? Was I genuinely afraid of losing her to him?
Honestly, no. As I mulled all this over a hundred times and sucked down another
scotch, I decided that my nervousness had it's roots in Dave's imaginative
genius. Once again, he had created a scenario so authentic that I began to truly
"believe" it. The party, the people, his liberties with L. in public - all came
together as convincingly as a climactic chapter in one of his best stories. I
cursed myself as being such a newbie at this game. What was I thinking?
I decided to relax and enjoy myself. I was getting what I wanted - watching them
together became a huge turn-on, and a very interesting study of L.'s uninhibited
sexual interaction with a partner whose attention she clearly enjoyed. I saw
little things I hadn't seen since we dated - the way her eyes flashed up at him
when he touched her in a novel way - the way her body began to press closely
against him on her own, without his gentle suggestion of an arm around her waist
- the way she presented herself, standing so confidently, head held high, a
playful but sexy adjustment of her hair when she knew a guest was ogling her,
and of course the shape of her firm nipples now shamelessly visible through her
dress. She seemed so proud of her body, holding her shoulders back and chest out
as though flaunting her breasts, in fact her entire sexuality, for all to see. I
was never more proud of her, or more in love with her.
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Don Jetman
Member
Posts: 3126
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I cruised the house for a while, watching them from different perspectives, and
also studying the guests' reactions. Later, as I exited the bathroom, I ran into
Gail. She was alone as before, and seemed to be wandering the room, much as I
was. She started past me toward the bathroom, smiled, and said hello. When I
asked her if she was enjoying the party, she said a bit coolly, "I never really
enjoy these things anymore. I tolerate them." Hmmmm. She looked uncomfortable,
as though she stopped to chat only to be polite. "And you?" she asked. I
stammered a few acceptable phrases as I recall. My god she was beautiful. Taller
than I, with piercing blue eyes. Silky platinum hair, perfectly cut and
prepared. "It looks like your wife is having a good time," she said after a few
seconds of awkward silence. I gave her a knowing smile and nodded, still not
quite sure who she was or what to say. She didn't smile back. "You needn't
worry," she said, still scanning the room. "David's very good to his women. It's
what he does." And with that, she moved off into the bathroom, without so much
as a simple goodbye.
It was shortly after that, after circling the room twice, that I discovered L.
and Dave were nowhere to be found. I checked outside, mingling with the guests
around the pool, even exploring a short wooded path that led to a secluded
gazebo. Nothing. As I walked back by the pool, I saw Gail sitting on the edge,
alone, cooling her feet in the water. Her dress was gathered high up on her
thighs and the underwater lights seemed to showcase her long, tanned legs. She
nodded and smiled, but I could tell she wasn't in the mood for conversation (as
though I was in any shape to provide any). Again, I was almost shaken by her
beauty and afraid I had stared much too long. It was so strange to see a woman
this breathtaking spend the evening alone at a party with so many guests. I
hadn't seen one guy hit on her, or one woman for that matter.
Back inside I found Dave at the bar. I asked him if he had seen L., that I had
been unable to find her. He smiled, then told me, "She'll be down soon. You know
how women are about their hair." "Um, what do you mean, 'down'," I asked. "I'd
like to know where she is." "Would you?" he asked. He pulled me away from the
bar and the people next to it. "She's upstairs, in my bedroom," he told me in
his matter-of-fact tone. "Do you want to know why?" Now his smile showed he was
amused. I told him no, that I had a pretty good idea why. "Yes, I knew you
would," he said. He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed it, and told me,
"Relax, enjoy the evening." Then he walked off into the crowd.
In five minutes, L. was by my side. Her smile was a bit sheepish as she
approached me, but she took my hand right away and kissed me. The signs were
there. Her hair was limp with less curl, and her skin was moist with
perspiration.
"We need to talk," she said softly. "Can we go somewhere?"
"Home?" I asked.
"No, not home," was her answer.
My god, what was coming? I told myself to relax again, then took another swallow
of scotch. I led her to the gazebo I had found at the back of his property. She
reached up and kissed me, hard. I was somewhat relieved, but still shaking.
"I know we agreed I wouldn't be alone with him," she began. "But you were here,
in the house. Are you upset?"
I guess I hesitated too long to answer, but in fact I didn't know what I felt,
except very confused. She started to apologize, over and over, asking me to
forgive her, not to be mad at her. Jesus, she was crying. She went on to say she
thought it was what I would want, that she thought referring to him as her
"boyfriend" excited me. Then she said she only wanted to be with me from now on,
that she would never have sex with him again.
What an idiot I was. And that's exactly what I told her. I sat her down and
explained all the things I later put into this post, and how it was I who should
apologize to her for even slightly doubting her. I told her I didn't want her to
stop having sex with Dave, that she was the sexiest, most beautiful woman on the
planet, and that the only thing I didn't want her to do was stop loving me.
Through the tears and sniffles, she whimpered, "Are you sure? Are you really,
really sure?" I kissed her again and placed her hand on the front of my slacks
so she could feel my erection grow. Fortunately for this idiot, the kiss
escalated and she practically attacked me, kneading my cock through my pants as
she climbed onto my lap. The dress rode up to her hips as she spread he knees to
straddle me. When I put my hand between her legs, I had never seen her so
soaked. Suddenly she tried to stop me, then climbed off my lap, breathing
heavily. She looked embarrassed. "I tried to freshen up," she said, staring down
into her lap, "but I couldn't get it all. Some of him might still be inside me.
I'm sorry." God. I put her hand on my erection and begged her, begged her to
make me cum while she said it again. I saw that look of recognition and
excitement in her eyes again, and then she did it. She took my raging cock out
and lovingly milked it while telling me how he filled her up, how it leaked out
of her as they fucked, and how there was so much cum some of it would be inside
her all night.
I was still a little takes when I came in her hand, but no longer confused or
anxious. She took some of my semen on her fingertip, reached between her legs,
and put it up inside her. "There," she told me with her little-girl grin. "Now I
have both of you in my belly." I doubt if I would have been able, but I wanted
more than anything to fuck her then and there. When I told her, she said
grinning, "Behave yourself. Let's go watch the fireworks. Then, well, Dave just
might have a surprise for us. He wants us to stay."
We made our way back to the pool and watched the fireworks dance in the distance
just over the darkened horizon. L. held my hand tightly and this time cuddled
closely into my side, apparently all attempts to be close to her "boyfriend" now
abandoned. To my surprise, we drew more attention from a few of the guests now
that we were together. Some stared and whispered, not caring that we could
clearly see them. It seemed it was acceptable that my wife offered herself to
Dave, enjoying his blatant advances. But when she returned to my side, it was
more scandalous that I forgave her behavior. I wondered if they called her slut,
or me the wimp husband. In the end, which was worse in their eyes? Apparently
fucking our host was the lesser of our sins. Or, was any of this as it seemed?
These people weren't prudes. Who were they? Were we the entertainment tonight?
Were they our audience? Knowing Dave, anything was possible - nothing was
certain.
L. and I stayed by the pool after the fireworks, relaxing on two comfortable
deck lounges as the number of guests continued to dwindle. L. looked so happy as
she stretched out on the long padded cushion. A few of the last men to leave
stared at her, looking up her dress as they passed along the far side of the
pool. I knew what they saw as her legs parted slightly, and I knew they'd have
given anything to have her as their own, regardless of her sexual indiscretions.
L. turned toward me, and her dress climbed dangerously higher. "They all want to
fuck you," I whispered, glancing in their direction. She grinned at me and
tugged on the hem of the dress to cover herself. "Be careful what you wish for,"
she whispered back. "You just might get it."
The pool area soon emptied and we found ourselves alone. L. stretched again,
reminding me of a contented kitten as she arched her back against the soft
cushion. I was pretty contented myself, watching her legs power the dress nearly
to her waist, the small muscles of her thighs hardening deliciously in the soft
poolside light. I could have watched her for hours.
As I looked back toward the house, I was surprised to see Dave standing just a
few yards away. He wore a thick white terrycloth robe, and sipped a take as he
watched. When he saw that I had noticed him, he came closer. The usual charmer,
he thanked us for coming, then suggested we have something to refresh us after
the long evening. "Relax Don," he said looking down at me. "You look like you've
had at least one scotch too many." He was right. I had consumed far more than my
usual limit, and by now a dull fatigue was starting to set in. In fact, I was
exhausted. He asked L. to help him, and they disappeared inside the house.
Normally I would have been suspicious, but after everything that happened this
night, the games were no doubt over. I could have slept right there by the pool
with very little encouragement. In fact, I think I did, for a short time.
When I opened my eyes, Dave and L. stood at the foot of my lounge. L. held an
ice-cold tumbler of water in each hand. She was naked. I looked at my watch to
see how long I had slept. Fifteen minutes, tops. L. knelt beside me and handed
me the take. I studied her face for a clue. Had she had sex again while I
slept? I decided I couldn't tell for sure, but I doubted it. Her eyes did show a
familiar hint of excitement though. Now I guessed the night was far from over.
L. stood and went to Dave's side. "It's such a shame he's finished so soon," he
said to her. "Of course, it's not uncommon for a man to fall short of his wife's
expectations, especially when she's taken a new lover." He turned L. to face
him, then ran the icy surface of his glass over her right nipple. She gasped,
but allowed him to continue.
"But he's not the man you wanted to fuck tonight anyway, is he?" She hesitated,
then with her head down, she whispered, "No." He turned and looked down at me
again, leaving L.'s nipple hard and wet. "So Don, it seems she had other plans
for tonight all along. Did you have any idea that the only reamister she wanted to
come tonight was to have me stick my cock in her?" So, he wanted to play. At
least after all that had happened tonight, my doubts and fears had vanished. I
was ready to play as well. I knew no fear. "I knew she wanted you," I admitted.
"I could tell from the way she dressed. The dress, the panties..."
Dave smiled and turned back to L. "Your husband knows you all too well. But does
he know that you begged me for sex again, just a few minutes ago while he slept?
Tell him what you said, L. Tell him exactly what you told me just before I
stripped that pretty dress off your body."
Her eyes sparkled as she told me. "I did. I begged him. You were so tired - I
didn't think you'd wake up so soon. I - I need sex tonight, one more time. I
want him to fuck me." Her inability to suppress the hint of a smile was meant to
reassure me that she was playing her role. But by this time, it wasn't
necessary. It was a role I recognized very well.
"Why don't you take a swim, L.?" Dave suggested. Looking a bit perplexed, she
padded off to the shallow end of the pool and slid into the crystal-clear water.
We watched her nude body glide along the surface as she swam smoothly and
effortlessly from end to end of the large pool. Again, in his nonchalant manner,
he told me, "She's been carrying my cum inside her all night, Don. Even now, as
she swims, a little of it leaks out of her tight little pussy with each stroke.
But don't worry, Don. I plan to fill her a second time tonight. Consider it a
parting gift, from me to you."
With that he shed his robe, placing it on the lounge beside me. He was in good
shape for his age, very lean, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach. His penis
hung between his legs, not fully erect, but pendulous and weighty, like a short,
thick rope. As often as L. claimed that he wasn't larger than I was, his cock
had always seemed very thick, but no longer than mine. I wondered how long it
would be until she felt she could be honest with me about it, until she could
actually say the words, that he was, at least in some way, larger.
"Stay put," he suggested, grinning. Then he dove into the pool and swam to L.
where she stood, resting in the shallow end. After circling her almost
menacingly, like a shark after its dinner, he closed in quickly and took her
roughly in his arms. She struggled at first, breaking away and laughing,
playfully splashing, trying unsuccessfully to escape, then finally surrendering
when he caught her a second time. He kissed her, she struggled again half-
heartedly, then melted into him, her mouth open to him, her tongue fighting
fiercely with his. I watched from my chair, their bodies glued together,
sparkling with tiny droplets of water that covered their skin.
He dragged her to the curved steps that rose from the pool, then lowered her
down onto them, her hips partly submerged in the shallow water. He spread her
legs and entered her, sinking his erection into her until it was buried to the
hilt. Then he began, very slowly, ten seconds in, ten seconds out, until I could
hear her quiet little gasps from my chair. He held her hips up out of the water
with both hands, her back and head now resting on the tile deck above the steps.
She lay almost motionless, her head to one side, her eyes closed, her lips
trembling as she savored the sensation of his meat filling her, then retreating,
again, and again, and again.
Then, unexpectedly, he helped her up, took her by the hand, and led her back to
my lounge. Now it was her turn to be disoriented. Her eyes were wild with
confusion, frustration, and lust. Her nude wet body shivered as she stood before
me, her hair now plastered to her neck and shoulders in thick wet ribbons, her
labia swollen and parted revealing red impatient flesh just inside. His cock
stood at attention, hard and pulsing, glistening with her juices, as though
angry at the interruption, eager for a second chance to invade her. They stood
side by side, the definition of sexual heat, a moment of intense desire frozen
in time, an obscene slice of their fucking thrust cruelly in my face. "This is
what I do to your wife," he was telling me, this time not with words, but with
the scene before me. "This is what she is when I take her. This is what she
becomes." She looked so small and vulnerable beside him. Yet, at the same time,
her need for him to finish her was blatantly intense.
He removed the sash of cloth from around his robe and handed it to L. "Tie him,"
he told her. She took the strip of cloth and tied my wrists over my head to the
crossbar of the lounge chair. She pulled it tighter than I expected, then
knotted it twice. "Now strip him," he ordered. She unbuttoned my shirt and
folded the open sides back, stealing a quick second to kiss me on the cheek and
smile mischievously as she worked. Then she removed my shoes, opened my pants,
and dragged them down my legs and over my feet, Finally, she tugged at my briefs
until she removed them as well. I felt pretty helpless and a little embarrassed,
but this was Dave's game - he made all the rules.
Then, just two feet away, he powerd her down onto the lounge chair next to me
and fucked her. This time it wasn't slow, he didn't take his time. He fucked her
hard and fast, vulgarly grunting as his hips met hers with a regular slapping
sound. She let out shrill little cries as she wrapped her legs around his back,
clutching him, pulling his closer, inviting his cock deeper inside with each
powerful thrust. She came first, he only seconds later. As I watched her face
and listened to her cum, I noticed her orgasm was different than those I knew so
well. L. reaches orgasm suddenly, often quickly, with a frenzied pumping of her
hips and short, broken, breathless moans. This time she slid slowly into it,
letting him grind his cock into her clit, uttering one long, low, continuous
moan that went on and on, subsiding slowly after a deep, unending plateau that
seemed to last forever. She was limp by the time he came in her, her head turned
toward me, her eyes staring vacantly into mine. She looked, well, utterly and
blissfully satisfied.
As relative newcomers to the hotwife/cuckold lifestyle, we grow a little with
each encounter. On this night, it was closer to evolving - me in dealing with my
angst, trust and insecurity issues, and L. in becoming steadily more bold and
adventurous. Even though I initiated our games, she's easily surpassed me with
her role-playing s*******s, and is ever more candid about her fantasies and needs.
When I asked her about flaunting her body in front of all the men at Dave's
party, she admitted to a new fantasy that was born that night:
"Dave makes me strip naked for a party with all his male friends," she told me.
"They stare at my body all night as I chat with them and serve then takes. They
feel my breasts, touch me between my legs, do whatever they want except have sex
with me. They buy tickets for a drawing. At the end of the night, the winner
gets to take me to bed for the night. I have to do anything he asks. Anything."
-*-
The "rest" of the party? Well, I'd like to fantasize that L. took on the rest of
the guests and I watched her fuck till dawn. The reality is much less exciting.
After Dave collapsed on top of her and they recovered for a few minutes, he was
very considerate. He brought us takes again (ice water with lemon), and a
couple aspirin for me. By then I was less takes than tired, and a slight
hangover was beginning to set in. I felt like I had been put through the ringer,
and L. looked it as well.
He offered us the use of his shower just off the pool area in the back of the
house. L. and I showered together. Dave left us alone. It was so great to be
naked so close to her under the hot water, but there was no sex - we were just
too exhausted. We held each other for a while, and I really just enjoyed
stroking her body and kissing her. She seemed so, well, satisfied, happy, at
peace with herself. If I hadn't been so tired...but I doubt whether I could have
mustered much of an erection to even come close to what she had been through.
What we shared was something different, but it was what we both needed at the
time.
Not too much to tell from there - we dressed, Dave said his goodbyes to us,
shaking my hand and giving L. a very platonic of kiss on her cheek. He insisted
on calling us a cab instead of letting us drive. I guess we looked that bad. He
paid for the cab ride home, and we came back for the car the following day.
A pretty bland finale, I know. But it was a nice ending for a very special
night. Considering my tribulations and anxiety throughout the night, it could
have been much worse. There were still some concerns on my part about L.
sneaking off to fuck him without me. We worked that out the next day after a
very open talk about what each of us went through that night. The next day,
after a good night's relax and some very hot memories, we spent some time in the
shower again. This time it wasn't so innocent.
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