Off Limits

by Vivian Ward

  “You’ve got me,” I reply.

  “No, I want you inside of me,” she begs.

  I continue to ignore her pleas and focus on teasing her even more. She’s not nearly worked up enough, and I’m not giving in until she comes at least once.

  Slowly, I glide my tongue up the length of her sex, lapping up all of her juices. Her sweet cream coats my tongue, reminding me of how good she tastes. For a second, I’m jealous all over again that another man licked her, but the excitement of it still fuels me.

  Pushing my two of my fingers inside of her, I can tell there’s enough wetness to last quite a while. She’s so fucking turned on that I just want to bury my cock deep inside her, but I won’t do it just yet.

  Fingering her, my tongue swirls her clit and hood, teasing her into oblivion but this isn’t enough to get her there; not even by a mile. But I know what will.

  Curling my fingers inside of her, I begin to make that ‘come here’ motion, pushing against her G-spot. Her sweet nectar starts leaking out of her as her excitement continues to grow.

  I don’t let off of her the hook until I have her right where I want her.

  Getting my pinky finger nice and wet, I slowly insert it through her back door while I continue eating her and fingering her.

  It’s only a matter of seconds later when she’s squeezing her breasts, cumming all over my face as her hips rise up and down.

  Satisfied with her orgasm, my cock is rock hard and aching for her. All I’ve wanted to do all night was be buried deep inside of her but re-branding her was far more important.

  Chapter 14

  Beth

  Whatever has gotten into my husband has turned him into a complete sex machine. Ever since we went on our walk, he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of me.

  Him teasing me the way he did wasn’t fair. He refused to penetrate me until after he teased the hell out of me and made me come, but two can play that game.

  He better hope that I show him a little mercy because I’m much better at this game than he is, and I can take him there and back.

  I love edging him. Getting him right there and then stopping is the best feeling in the world. I could do it to him for hours, but I’m not that cruel. The truth is I take great pride in pushing him to the edge and making him come.

  Climbing on top of him, I slide down his cock, taking him all the way to the base. Sometimes it’s hard to take all of him because of his length, but not tonight.

  He’s got me so damn turned on that I can’t get enough of him. Tonight, there is no pain. It’s only pleasure.

  Pure pleasure.

  Begging him was useless, but now that he’s finally let me up, it’s my turn to tease him, and I’ll remember every single plea that went unanswered when he’s the one pleading for mercy.

  Raking my nails across his chest, I spread my legs open wide and take him as deep as I can. Grinding against him, I rock back and forth before slowly sliding back up into a squatting position.

  Once he has the perfect view of himself still half-way inside of me, I slide back down until he’s completely buried inside of me again.

  “Ahhh,” he lets out a sigh.

  “You like that, baby?” I ask him with one hand still resting on his chest.

  Placing my other hand by his head, I lean down and whisper in his ear.

  “Do you like being buried inside of me?”

  “Mhmm,” he moans.

  I know my husband, and I can tell he’s so close to coming inside of me. He’s about to blow any minute, and I love tormenting him. Sliding back up, I let the tip of him remain in me—but just the tip and nothing more.

  His entire dick is throbbing, pulsing with need and want.

  I know what he’s doing right now—since I know him so well—he’s trying to think of anything he can except sex or how good it feels. His mind is racing in a million different directions, and I can see it in his eyes.

  When he’s focused on sex, his eyes are locked on me and nothing else. If he’s trying to deflect his attention elsewhere, he closes his eyelids, but I can see his eyes scanning back and forth as he tries to think about other things.

  But tonight, I feel like playing dirty.

  “Babe?” I ask breathlessly next to his ear, letting my hot breath tickle his skin. “Did you like watching Hunter and Shawn fuck me?”

  As I say the last bit, I slide back down his cock, taking him deep and letting him feel my warmth. Shivers that race down his spine become evident when his body shakes just a bit.

  “What’s the matter, baby? Does it turn you on to think about it?”

  I slide back up, leaving only the head of his cock inside of me once more.

  “Do you like me blowing you while he fucked me?”

  His fingers dig into me, his strong hands pulling me down onto him and I know his cock is aching for me to ride the hell out of him.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  I can feel every vein in his cock throbbing. Smacking my ass as hard as he can, the loud pop echoes inside of our tent before he grabs big handfuls of my ass and forces me to fuck him.

  I love how strong he is and how powerful his hands are. It takes him minimal effort to fuck me, even when I’m on top.

  Leaning back, I ride him fast and hard, letting his cock piston in and out of me as I reach for his balls and begin rubbing and gently pulling on them.

  He never lasts long when I play with his balls, and I know it’s not fair, but I want to make him come as hard as he made me.

  Forced orgasms are the best.

  And the quickest way to make him come is by doing exactly what I’m doing. Unable to take it anymore, he grabs my breasts, holding onto them for leverage, as he pounds me from the bottom.

  He grunts and I can feel his cock swelling inside of me as his balls contract before I drain him of his seed. For what seems like an eternity, I feel his warm cum pooling inside of me as his dick twitches and throbs inside of me.

  Feeling his thick cum inside of me turns me on, and he knows it. The feeling of him coming in me pushes me closer to coming, and I need that release. I need to come on his cock. I want to come on him.

  “That’s it, babe,” he grabs my hips, thrusting into me. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

  His powerful hands and deep voice send my body into overdrive. There’s no holding back as I lose composure and come undone under his firm grip.

  Rocking back and forth on his cock, I can feel his cum being pushed deeper inside me which makes me come that much harder.

  “Oh, Tom,” I cry out as I interlace our fingers together.

  Smiling, he leans up and kisses me.

  “God, you look so beautiful when you come,” he whispers.

  It’s almost dawn before the two of us finally go to sleep, but it makes me remember just how much I love snuggling up to this man and going to sleep in his arms.

  “Are you almost ready?” Tom calls out to me as he packs up the SUV with most of our things.

  “Almost,” I holler back to him.

  “Anyway,” I say to Shawn. “So you’d be interested?”

  “For sure! Here, let me give you my number so you can text or call anytime you’d like.”

  He scribbles his number down on the back of my cigarette pack since I forgot to charge my phone and the battery’s dead.

  “Yeah, I’ll do that,” I say. “Bye Hunter. Bye Shawn. It was nice meeting you guys and, um, getting to know you,” I laugh.

  “You, too,” Hunter says. “Let me give you my number, too.”

  “Oh, okay!” He writes his number below Shawn’s and gives me a peck on the cheek. “You take care and don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t be,” I promise them. “I’ll give you guys a text as soon as I get my phone charged so you have my number.”

  After we get the rest of the coolers and the fishing poles loaded into the backseat, we buckle up and start heading for the highway so we can get home and get everything unload
ed and put away before our new week begins.

  With the way Tom’s schedule sounds, it might be a while before he gets any off time unless there’s a break in the weather with lots of rain, but even then they can usually find indoor work to do.

  Sometimes I’m glad he’s a roofer because he gets to rest a lot in the winter, but I hate that he has to work like a dog in that hot summer heat on top of roofs. He likes it though.

  I’ve tried to talk him out of it, but he likes physically active jobs, and he’s an expert at his job. He gets paid well and is very competitive. Most homeowners in the area call my husband’s company for any repairs or replacements that they need.

  It’s a blessing and a curse at the same time.

  “You ready to rock and roll?” Tom asks before we get on the highway.

  He reaches for his iPod to crank up the music like he normally does before we get on the road but I grab his hand, stopping him.

  “Yeah, I’m ready to get back home, but let’s talk instead of listening to the music. Okay?”

  He looks at me suspiciously.

  “Why? Is something wrong?”

  I shake my head and laugh at him.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I just want to talk.”

  Chapter 15

  Beth

  “What do you want to talk about?” Tom asks.

  “Our weekend. Last night, to be more specific,” I smile at him.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. You said that you were glad we did it and that it had always kind of been your fantasy. I didn’t push too much last night, or this morning, when we talked about it but how come you never told me before?” I ask.

  “How come I never told you? I don’t know. It’s just not something that a guy says to his wife. Most guys are afraid of getting the shit slapped out of them for something like, ‘Honey, I think I want to have a threesome or foursome with you and a guy or two,’ you know?” he laughs.

  When he puts it that way, it does sound kind of funny, but it’s also a little strange because it’s not like our sex life is vanilla, or at least I don’t think it is.

  “Do you think our sex life is vanilla? I know that sometimes we like to do things in public, but aside from that….do you think anything is missing or that it’s boring?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I love our sex life. We have lots of sex, and I’m never bored,” he hesitates for a second. “Are you?”

  “Me? No, no, no. I’m not bored.”

  I stare straight ahead through the windshield, focusing on the blurred white lines of the highway as the wind whips through my hair.

  “I mean, I like our sex life, but sometimes I think it could be more exciting,” I admit.

  Apparently, something is missing and I believe that something is experimentation. We never do it. Sure, we might have sex in public places, places where we can be seen—and are sometimes watched—but that’s all we ever do.

  There’s never anything else in the mix. Every once in a while, we might do some light bondage play, but that’s it. I think having the menage was new and exciting, and it’s definitely something I’d like to do again.

  Which is exactly why I got their number before we left.

  There was a comment that Tom had made that night once we were back inside our tent. He said that one of the things he wished were different is that we would’ve been sober.

  And I wholeheartedly agree. It was just a silly, fun game of drunken truth or dare, but how much more fun could it be if we were all sober?

  “You think our sex life could be more exciting?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I think that we should experiment more. We don’t do it enough. Sure, you might handcuff me from time to time or have me put on my short skirt so you can bend me over and spank me in it, but that’s the extent of our playtime.”

  He nods in agreement but doesn’t say a word.

  “And not that it’s a bad thing,” I continue. “Because I love our sex life, but I think it could use a little spice. Last night, you said something that kind of resonated with me and told me you wished we would’ve done the menage thing while we were sober because it’s always kind of been a fantasy of yours.”

  “Yeah?” he says, looking at me from the corner of his eye as he continues driving down the highway. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “If we were all sober or the situation was different, how would you have liked to have seen it played out?”

  I’m really curious how he’s always envisioned this, and I’d like to make his fantasy a reality. I mean, a real reality. Not like the drunken game of truth or dare, but more in line with how he pictured it.

  Because if I’m being honest with myself, I’d like to see it happen again but under different circumstances.

  For starters, it wouldn’t have been in the woods after being out on the lake for an entire day. It wouldn’t have been while we were all drinking, and I would like to dress up in a cute little outfit with some heels and maybe some jewelry.

  “I don't know,” he says. “I think when I pictured it before, I always just kind of imagined someone slowly walking up to us and waiting for my okay—maybe a nod, or a wink or something—before gradually joining us. Maybe he could kiss you or start rubbing your boobs or something,” he stops to look at me to gauge my reaction to all of this.

  “Yeah?” I ask, encouraging him to keep going.

  “And maybe you’d be okay with it and just let him join. Maybe go down on him or something and let him fuck you.”

  “Wow,” I say, surprised by how he’s envisioned things. “That actually does sound pretty hot. How come we’ve never done anything like that? I would’ve been totally okay with it—I mean, for the most part. It would depend on the guy, you know? Like if he was a weirdo or a creep, or if he was good looking and friendly. That sort of thing,” I say, nodding my head.

  “Really? You would’ve gone along with it?”

  The shock in his voice sounds so funny coming from my husband, the big, tough, rugged guy.

  “Yeah,” I make duck face lips. “Really. I mean, why not? If you were okay with it, I'd be all right with it, too. And again, it wouldn’t be just any guy. I’d have to find him attractive and feel okay with him.”

  Now I’ve got my husband’s attention, and he’s completely interested in having this conversation with me. Sitting up a little straighter in the driver’s seat, his face lights up as he becomes perkier.

  “So, what would make you feel okay with a guy?” he asks.

  See, I like this. I like that we can talk about this and have an actual conversation about sex. Out of all the years that we’ve been married, we’ve had plenty of sex—good sex—but we’ve never actually talked about it.

  “I don’t know,” I try to think hard so I can give him an example. “Okay! I’ve got it.”

  I can’t even say what I’m thinking because I’m too busy laughing.

  “Okay, you know what Steve Buscemi looks like? He starred in Pulp Fiction and Con Air? If the dude looked like him, no fucking way in hell. Now, if the dude looked like Charlie Hunnam or Chris Hemsworth, then hell yes. Please! Invite them over!”

  I’m laughing so hard that tears are blurring my vision and I’m cracking up as my husband looks unamused by my choices of hell yes.

  “So if they look like Hollywood hunks, invite them over; otherwise they can take a walk?” my husband teases.

  “Yeah, something like that,” I say.

  Once I catch my breath and calm down, I try to approach the subject again.

  “No, seriously. Like Shawn and Hunter? They were fine. They were more than fine. If we were ever out doing out thing and you invited someone like either of them, that would be perfectly okay by me.”

  “It would be, huh?” he jokes.

  “You know what I mean,” I give him a nudge with my arm.

  “What were you talking to them about before we left? I saw you over there as I was putting some of the stuff in the back,” he nods t
o the rear of the SUV.

  Ever since we started talking about them, I can’t wipe this stupid grin off my face. Every time I think about the two of them, I start smiling.

  “Yeah, I was just telling them that it was nice meeting them and that we enjoyed their company.”

  “Uh-huh,” he beams at me. “Look at you over there with that smirk on your face. You can’t even say their names without cracking a smile.”

  I bust out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. He’s got me, I can’t even deny it.

  “Can you blame me? I had a great time! I really liked hanging out with those guys.”

  He laughs at me, taking a sip from his can of soda.

  “Oh, is that what you call it now? ‘Hanging out,'” he implies with his famous air quotes again.

  “Yeah, hanging out,” I reply.

  My cheeks are beginning to hurt from laughing and smiling so much. My laughter must be contagious because he starts laughing, too.

  “I can see why you liked them and would want to ‘hang out’ with them again. I had a pretty good time, too.”

  “If you had such a good time, how come you didn’t participate more?”

  I really didn’t expect him to walk away and leave me with them to have me all to themselves—not that I’m complaining, but I’m curious.

  “Are you kidding?” he laughs. “I was about to blow my load watching you get fucked. I had to sit back and watch so I could outlast those two.”

  I must admit, I’m a little shocked to hear his answer.

  “Why? Who cares? Isn’t the point of having sex for everyone to get off?”

  “Yes, but your husband here doesn’t want to shoot his load before the younger, probably fresh-out-of-college boys do.”

  It didn’t even occur to me that those guys are probably a good decade younger than us. Sometimes I think we forget that we age or that we’re not young anymore.

  “Well, those guys have nothing on you. You could come a half hour before them and still be able to satisfy me,” I pat his arm.

  “Gee, thanks. Do I bore you that you’d rather they take more time with you?” he winks at me to let me know he’s only kidding.