by Bart Tracer
“Mmmm! Yes! Oh God, Ken!” she ground on me slowly. “I hadn’t realized just how much I missed that until last night!”
“Jamaal?”
“Jamaal.” She sat up, still impaled on my hard member, and looked at me as if suddenly remembering something important. “If we’re really going to do that again, you’re going to have to watch me.”
“Watch you? Fuck yeah! Watching was the best part!”
She shook her head, placing a hand on my chest. “No. That’s not what I mean!” she said. “I need you to keep an eye on me, be the voice of reason. If we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to be the adult. Make sure things don’t go off the rails. Like I told you, sometimes I can go sort of crazy!”
“Like with Damian.”
“Exactly. And I need you to stop me if I try to go too far. You’re right. I love sex. And I love big cocks, but I love you more. Nothing is worth risking what we have with each other! I mean it. If anything I do makes you in any way uncomfortable, you need to tell me. And I promise you, I’ll stop immediately!”
I felt my heart swell at her impromptu declaration of love. My fears from a moment ago melted into nothingness. My wife loved me. I might not have a cock like a draft horse, but she loved me. “All right,” I nodded.
“Good! Because I have no intention of losing my husband just for the chance of having a little more fun with two college guys!”
She started to ride me again, resuming the same slow rhythm she had used earlier.
“Speaking of Scott and Jamaal,” I said, “I’m kind of surprised we haven’t heard from them today. You don’t think we scared them off, do you? Now that I think about it, they did leave in an awful hurry afterwards. Do you think maybe we freaked them out?”
A smile stole across her face and her eyes twinkled with delight as she answered, “Who says we haven’t heard from them?” She winked and moved rapidly up and down my dick a dozen times, biting her lip. “They’ve been in contact. And I’m pretty sure we didn’t freak them out too badly. I bet I got a dozen texts from them while you were in the shower this morning.”
“Really? What did they say?”
“What do you think they said?! They wanted me to go dancing with them again tonight. Or to just ‘hang out’. Whatever I want. They are dying to get together again.”
“To get into your pants again, you mean!”
“Yeah! Pretty sure that thought had crossed their minds!”
“What did you tell them?” My voice felt shaky, out of control. They wanted her again, and I wanted that!
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She began to move faster yet, her eyes glowing with excitement. She was enjoying teasing me.
“Yes, now that you mention it! C’mon Jen! What did you tell them?”
“I told them… that I had plans with my husband today and that… that I couldn’t see them.”
She was having trouble talking now, her hips a blur as she ratcheted back and forth on me. I could feel my balls starting to get tight and gritted my teeth to hold back my orgasm. Jenny reached down to where I was holding her hips and moved my hands to her tits. I could feel her whole body shaking, teetering on the ragged edge of orgasm.
“I told them…” she murmured, her voice low and guttural, “that they’d have to wait until tomorrow… if they wanted to fuck me again!”
Her words pushed me over the edge, and a cascade of stars burst within my brain as my body went stiff. Then, my balls clenched so tightly it hurt as my jerking cock spat bolt after bolt of hot cum into my Jenny’s hot little pussy. Her high-pitched wails filled my ears and I knew that she was cumming with me.
When it was over, we lay tangled in each other’s arms. As the warm drowsiness folded itself around me, a single word echoed in my consciousness: Tomorrow.
Chapter 4
“Get up, sleepyhead!” a cruelly cheerful voice said. An unseen hand shook my shoulder insistently, tearing me from the warm embrace of sleep.
I rolled over and forced my eyes open. Blinking away the fogginess, I was greeted by the sight of my wife bending over me with a huge smile on her face. She had on a tank top and a pair of shorts.
“Huh? What time is it?” I croaked. My mouth tasted like a wet sock.
“Six o’clock” she replied, giving my shoulder another shake, a little rougher this time. “Get up!”
“Six o’clock in the morning?”
“Yes, silly! I’m going for a run on the beach, and I thought maybe you’d like to join me.”
Join her? Uuugh! Jenny was a fitness nut, but jogging was really her thing. She loved it. Me? Not so much! It wasn’t that I hated jogging. Not exactly. It was just that, well, my job kept me really busy. So, when I did get a chance to jog with her, I didn’t have nearly the stamina she did.
“Please?” she said, tilting her head adorably to the right.
I eyed her skeptically, but her bright, happy smile melted my heart. Usually, she spared me the humiliation of trying to keep up with her, but with everything that had been going on, I guess maybe she felt like she needed to spend more time with me. I had to go. There was just no way out of it.
“Yeah. Sure. Just let me grab a quick shower,” I said, hoisting myself up to a sitting position and rubbing my aching eyeballs.
“Nope. You’ll have to shower after we’re done anyway. Quit stalling and get dressed, lazy bones! I called down to the restaurant and had them send up breakfast. We’ll have a bite to eat and then pound some sand! C’mon! The beach is waiting!”
She bent to give me a peck on the cheek, then bounced through the door, heading for the kitchen. Even as I tried to shake off the iron grip of sleep, I couldn’t help but notice how cute her tight little ass looked in her jogging shorts.
An hour later, I was standing on legs made of jelly with my hands on my hips next to a galvanized trashcan, staring out at the waves. My lungs burned like fire and I gulped the cool air blowing in from the ocean in enormous, rapid breaths, willing my pounding heart to slow its pace. I clenched my hands at my sides to keep them from shaking.
Jenny stood patiently next to a battered green park bench, tracing a line in the sand with her toe as I pretended to admire the view. She knew I was winded, knew I was just trying to buy myself a little time to catch my breath, but she said nothing. And for that fact, I was grateful.
We had only gone two miles. Only. For her, that was nothing. A brisk little jog to get her system going. On most days, she went much farther than that. I, on the other hand, had apparently been spending too much time in the office, because I was fucking dying! As in “coughing up a lung” dying!
Fuck, I was out of shape! Trembling like a leaf. I was tempted to blame it on the sand. It was, after all, deep, and it made running quite a bit more difficult. Unfortunately, Jenny had also been running beside me in the same sand, and she looked as fresh as a sunflower, gazing about nonchalantly as she waited to see if I would survive.
For several minutes I debated actually vomiting in the trashcan, but I really, really wanted to avoid that if at all possible! So, I puffed and panted and gradually, bit by bit, I felt the blood slow in my veins and the air that each breath brought in no longer seemed to scald my lungs.
I glanced at Jenny and saw that she had one of her legs up on the back of the bench and was stretching. Her fingers reached for her toes, her slender torso bending low over a gloriously toned, taut leg. With the grace of a ballerina, she brought her head down until her forehead touched her knee. As I watched, her tight jogging shorts drew up into the crack of her tight little ass, revealing just a hint of her butt cheeks on either side. Even in my weakened state, I felt a stirring in my loins.
From behind me, I heard a shrill wolf whistle and whipped my head around to look. A pair of shirtless young men jogged past between us and the water with their eyes glued to my wife. “Oh, nice!” one of them said appreciatively. By the time I thought to protest, they were gone, jogging on down the beach away from us, their heads
swiveling as they passed to enjoy the view for as long as possible.
Looking back at Jenny, I caught her eye and saw a deep blush come to her cheek. She smiled knowingly, but never altered her pose. If anything, she stretched lower, letting them have a good, long look. She liked the attention they had given her. Before I could say anything, she asked, “Are you ready to head back? Or do you want to go another mile or two?”
Another mile or two?! Shit! She really was trying to kill me! “Uh…” I gasped. “I don’t know, baby. Maybe we could just…”
“I’m just teasing, Ken. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Never in my life have I been more grateful to hear my wife say something. “You’re sure?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“Yeah,” she said, lowering her foot to the sand. “It’s okay.”
“All right then,” I said. “Here we go!” I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the jog back to the hotel when her hand grabbed my bicep.
“Let’s just walk.”
“Okay,” I said, silently giving thanks for this act of supreme mercy.
She took my hand and we began to slowly make our way along the beach, retracing our steps. We had only gone a few yards when she suddenly rose on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “After all,” she said with a wicked smile, “I have to save some energy for tonight!”
Tonight! Fuck! That’s right! She had told Scott and Jamaal that she would meet them tonight. No. That wasn’t what she’d said last night. She’d told them she would let them fuck her again tonight!
And just like that, my dick turned to steel again. Running shorts are made with two things in mind: they need to be comfortable and provide freedom of movement. They were never designed to hide erections. So, when I got wood, Jenny knew immediately.
“Hmm! I guess that means you remember what’s going to happen tonight!” She looked around to see if anyone was looking then discreetly slid her hand down to brush lightly across the bulge in my shorts. “Does this mean you’re still onboard?”
“Yes. I’m still in.”
She let her warm little hand linger on my cock for just a moment, then she took it away and we walked on.
“That’s good. Because I just got a text from them while you were catching your breath. They want us to come to their room tonight at seven.”
“Their room? No dancing?”
“No dancing.”
It was a booty call, plain and simple. They wanted her to come to their hotel room for sex. And, from the look on her face, Jenny was anything but insulted by that fact.
“Would you mind if we did a little shopping first?” she asked.
“Shopping? But, didn’t we just go shopping yesterday?”
“Well, yeah. But there’s this little shop not far from the hotel…”
She stopped and tugged at my arm. When I looked at her, she was chewing her lip like she always did when she was thinking. She took a deep breath and met my eyes, then said, “It’s just that, well, I never expected any of this when we were packing our bags. And, with what’s probably going to happen tonight, I thought it might be kind of nice to wear something a little, you know, sexy.”
“Sexy? But baby, you always look sexy!” I had no idea where she was going with this. She had packed plenty of clothing and she looked great in all of it. And she’d also gone on a little shopping spree before her fateful date with Jamaal and Scott. How many outfits does a person need? Besides, if tonight went like I thought it was going to, she wouldn’t be wearing it very long anyway.
“Thank you, honey! Really! Thank you! And I’m so glad you see me that way, even after almost 7 years of marriage. It’s just that, well, I just thought it might be nice if we were to get me something special, something to sort of show me off.”
“Is this your way of saying you want a new dress?” I grinned.
“Oh, the dress isn’t the problem,” she whispered, moving in close and putting both hands on my chest. “I was thinking more along the lines of lingerie!”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Lingerie! My cock jerked approvingly, growing harder still. “Uh, sure! That… that’d be awesome!”
“Good! It’s decided then! We’ll go back to the hotel, grab a quick shower, then it’s off to ‘Midnight Treasures’!”
“Midnight Treasures?”
“That’s the name of the little shop I was telling you about. Trust me, you’re going to love it!”
Chapter 5
Midnight Treasures was all Jenny had said it would be. And then some! A tiny little shop, tucked away down a quiet side street, it had a surprisingly large inventory. Rack after rack of delightfully feminine intimate apparel vied for space in the cramped store.
In spite of the slightly claustrophobic feel, Midnight Treasures had a sophisticated air to it. This wasn’t a sex shop, at least not as I understood the word. All the sex shops I had been in had been dingy ill-lit dives frequented by balding middle-aged perverts. This store catered to women and, judging by the price tags, women with good taste and plenty of disposable income.
The well-dressed lady about 10 years older than us sat behind the counter and smiled broadly as we walked through the door. She was an exquisitely beautiful blonde with a beauty mark and a pronounced French accent that instantly made her more attractive. “Hello! My name is Monique,” she said. “How may I help you today?”
“Hello, Monique,” Jennifer smiled. She then proceeded to explain what she was looking for, conveniently leaving out the fact that it was Jamaal and Scott who were to be the beneficiaries of today’s purchases. Monique listened carefully, then ushered us toward a rack along one wall of the store, where she assured us we would find what we wanted. We browsed for a while, looking and asking questions, before eventually making our way back to the changing room with an armload of lacy undergarments that we thought might look good.
Jenny tried on a dozen outfits of various kinds and colors, coming out to do a little turn in front of me before retreating once more into the changing room. Monique stood at my elbow and evaluated each outfit with a studied eye, tutting her disapproval or humming appreciatively. I had to admit, her assessment was spot on. If she liked it, I liked it, too.
“No. No,” she said in a clipped tone when Jenny pulled back the curtain to reveal a fluffy pink negligee that made her look like something the Easter bunny had discarded. Monique shook her head rapidly, “That will never do! Not enough ‘up here’!” she said, holding her own rather large tits up demonstrably. “Besides, the color is all wrong for you! Please, madame. Wait just one moment, please. I believe I have something that will be perfect for you.”
Without waiting for an answer, she crossed to a circular rack in the far corner of the store, where she flicked through the clothes hangers with rapid, nimble fingers. I looked at Jenny, only to get a resigned shrug. “Voila!” Monique exclaimed triumphantly as she snatched a hanger from the rack. “Here it is! Here it is! Trust me, madame!” She rushed past me. “You will not be sorry!” With a victorious smile, she took Jenny by the elbow and tugged her back inside the changing room, pulling the red velvet curtain closed behind them.
Fuck! I couldn’t believe Monique had gone into the changing room with my wife! She is European! I told myself. It’s probably just a cultural thing! Besides, she’s a professional! Still, I found myself growing hard as I thought about Monique seeing Jenny nude.
I could hear the two women whispering behind the thick fabric and could see their feet where the curtain stopped about a foot above the floor. I tried not to let my imagination run wild, but what can I say? I’m a man, for fuck’s sake! It was all I could do to suppress a gasp when I saw the pink nightie land in an unceremonious pile around Jenny’s pale ankles. She was now naked. In front of Monique!
As I watched the two sets of feet, the gears inside my head began to spin so fast, I wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke had begun to pour out of my ears. I saw Jenny turn away from Monique, heard the rustle of fa
bric as she put on the outfit. Then, I thought I heard a little gasp from her. It was faint, a nearly undetectable intake of air. I could have just imagined it. Maybe. But I could have sworn I heard my wife gasp. Had Monique touched her? And if so, where?
It was my turn to gasp as I saw Monique fall to her knees in front of Jen. What the fuck was going on in there?! My cock was so hard I could have used it to hammer nails! Groaning inwardly, I saw Monique’s long fingers opening a small package on the floor. Then, she shook out a long, thin piece of fabric and held it up toward Jenny.
One of Jenny’s feet rose out of view briefly, only to reappear a moment later, now clad in black fishnet. Now, I understood. Monique was helping Jenny put on stockings! When both feet were encased in nylon, Monique helped her put her high heels on again, then got to her feet. Once more, there was the rustle of fabric, an adjustment here and there. I heard their voices whispering, then Jenny’s familiar giggle.
With no warning, the red velvet curtain was torn open and Monique emerged with her hands on her hips and her chin held high. “Behold!” she said in a ridiculously imperious tone that still somehow seemed to defy contradiction. “Your wife!” With that, she ducked to one side, throwing her arm out in a sweeping gesture toward Jenny, who stepped through the drapes at that instant.
I nearly fainted. That’s not just hyperbole. I really, honestly thought I was going to lose consciousness for a second there! Monique was a genius, the outfit perfection. Jenny, always lovely, had been transformed into a living, breathing sex goddess!
A blood-red bustier hugged her slender ribcage like a second skin, the fit perfect in every regard. Its black satin trim seemed to play along her curves. I groaned as I took in her tantalizing cleavage, threatening to spill out the top of the tight garment. The bottom edge was decorated by a flourish of black lace that fell about her hips in a ruffled mass, from which emerged the narrow straps that attached to the lacy tops of her black lace stockings.
