The Last To Know - What I Did While We Dated

by Bridy McAvoy

  The Last To Know – What I Did While We Dated

  By: Bridy McAvoy

  ISBN: 978-0-908325-21-4

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © Oct 2015, Bridy McAvoy

  Cover Art Copyright © Oct 2015, Brightling Spur

  Bluewood Publishing Ltd

  Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

  www.bluewoodpublishing.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd.

  Dedication

  To everyone who helped me write this. Especially my husband who encouraged me to explore my fantasies in print.

  Chapter One – An Evening Out

  I held Sam until she stopped sobbing, in the process allowing her to soak the front of my shirt with her tears. A few minutes after the sounds stopped she pushed against my chest, making me let go enough for her to straighten up. She glanced down at the large dark stain on my pale blue shirt.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’ll wash.”

  She smiled, a bit weakly, not quite a Sam thousand-watt smile, but a smile nevertheless. “Take it off and I’ll put it in the wash.”

  It was my turn to smile. “What you mean is take it off so I’m topless and you can have your way with me.”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying, can you? Besides, I’ll return the favor.”

  With that, my wife sat fully upright, reached down to the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. I already knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. Despite my resolve, my eyes dropped to her chest, allowing my gaze to drink in every little detail of her perfect breasts. Almost as a reaction to the pressure of my gaze, her nipples crinkled and hardened, and she sat still letting me just look. Lower down, my little head was enjoying the view too, and I’m sure she could feel it stiffen against her hip. I knew all she was wearing was the soft cotton shorts that molded themselves to every contour of her body.

  “Enough, minx.”

  “Why?” She batted her eyelashes at me as coquettishly as she could manage then spoiled the effect by giggling.

  “Because we’re supposed to be going out for dinner, and it’s already five o’clock. I already know you’ll want a shower before we go.”

  “How do you know that?”

  I sighed. “You always want a shower and redo your makeup when you’ve been crying.”

  She punched my shoulder. “It’s your fault.”

  “Why?”

  “For letting me cry like that. You should have stopped me.”

  “Me? Never.”

  “Why? You enjoy watching me cry?”

  “One, the next person to make you cry is going to find themselves flat on their back. Two, I didn’t make you cry, and three, you needed it, so I let you cry it out.”

  “I’m so sorry, Si. Really, really sorry.”

  “Enough. And stop trying to tempt me. It’s not going to happen.”

  She pouted, and given her state of undress, she looked adorable. I’d made up my mind, though. I wasn’t going to make love to her until I’d heard the full confession. I’d hold her, and if she kept displaying herself to me, I’d look, but I wouldn’t touch her, not sexually. There was a problem with this approach. I was as hard as a rock, and had been for most of the day, ever since she’d paraded herself naked in front of me this morning, let alone when skinny-dipping in the lake.

  “So, do you want a shower?” There was an obvious invitation in her voice.

  “That shower isn’t big enough for two.”

  Her face told me she disagreed, and that probably stemmed from her own practical experience.

  “You go first, Si, while I sort out what I’m wearing, then you can get ready while I shower. That way you can stay out of the bedroom while I get ready.”

  I had to parse that to make sure I understood her, then nodded. “Deal.”

  She smiled, wider this time, and I lifted her from my lap, keeping my hands firmly at waist level—nowhere else. She turned in my arms but I gently steered her away, then rose to my feet. Outside, the sunlight glinted off the waves on the lake surface, and I could see two or three boats out there, probably fishing. With a start I realized the drapes were open and my wife was parading around the condo, topless.

  “Minx!”

  She laughed, and my heart seemed to bounce in my chest from the throaty timbre of it, meaning I had to re-impose my iron willpower. Not easy when your little head is yelling ‘Gimme, Gimme’!

  * * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed again, I grabbed a soda from the fridge and wandered out onto the terrace and lawn between the condo and the lake. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom and knew Sam was taking care of herself, so stood there watching the sunlight making patterns on the surface of the water. It was almost hypnotic in its effect and it was only a slight noise that caused me to turn around. I’d left the ranch door open behind me and Sam, shower finished, was standing in the open doorway watching me. She had her blonde hair tied up in a towel, with another towel tied around her body—a very small towel. I doubt it came more than an inch above her areolas and only a couple of inches below her pussy. The slightest movement would leave her flashing both me and anyone else who was looking.

  “I’m sure you could have found a bigger towel.”

  “I’m sure I could too, but this one is fine for my purposes.”

  My cock had relaxed from its almost permanent state of hardness while I’d been in the shower. Now it was starting to grow again. I rolled my eyes, but she just grinned.

  “It’s heading toward six. The reservation is for seven, and I thought we’d have a drink first.”

  “No problem. Just need to get my game face on, and a frock.”

  I decided not to dignify that with an answer as she ducked back inside, and I turned back to face the lake. A few minutes later I turned to go inside, but found myself rooted to the spot. My wife’s current aggressive indifference to nudity had risen to a new height. She was sitting in front of the dressing table, facing the mirror, while she vigorously blow-dried her hair. Since the dressing table was side-on to the bedroom ranch doors, and she hadn’t bothered with the drapes, she was profile-on to me—and anyone on the lake. The towel around her body had been discarded, leaving her naked. With her hands above her head as she toyed with her hair, her breasts were in perfect profile, as was the rest of her body. She caught my eye in the mirror in front of her and winked. I just shook my head and deliberately turned my back.

  There was no doubt she was pushing every button she could reach, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Walking over to the picnic table, I sat down with my back to the lake and watched the deliberate show she was putting on. She’d produced the Merry Widow the evening before, and I knew the closets in the condo contained a lot of sexy clothing—outerwear and underwear I wouldn’t have seen before. Her performance getting dressed tonight was a virtuoso solo one.

  She started with the stockings—black and sheer—then proceeded to put on a pair of black sandals with three to four inch heels, before spending an inordinate amount of time smoothing the nylons on her legs. She never once turned face-on to the window, keeping her most private place exactly that—private. Her breasts, though, were ev
er present, swinging and bobbling as she moved. The garter belt seemed to take an age to attach to the stockings, while it took an equally long time to slide the thin panties up her legs and position them just right. She had a penchant for boy-shorts style underwear rather than thongs, and this pair fit her like a second skin.

  Before she did anything else she sat back down at the dresser to brush out her hair, and put on her makeup—or, as she called it, her game face. Once more I had a perfect profile view of her breasts, and I caught her watching me watching her from time to time using the conveniently angled mirror. That mirror also showed me a three-quarter view rather than a profile. She’d got me hard again, whether I liked it or not.

  After that, it was time for the dress and, pulling it on, it was obvious she was going braless underneath it. The pale blue mini-dress came down to mid-thigh, just—and I do mean just—covering the tops of her stockings. The top was fitted and tight, a halter neck that tied behind her neck, while the sweetheart neckline had a keyhole that showed most of the inside curves of her breasts. Another stunning and sexy dress that I hadn’t seen before.

  She smiled and blew me a kiss before grabbing her purse then, in a final flourish, closed the bedroom drapes. I rose to my feet and walked back into the living room, gathering my keys, phone and wallet, and she emerged from the bedroom and spun around for my approval. That spin made the skirt flare out, displaying naked thighs above the stockings.

  “You look stunning.”

  She grinned at me, pleased by my reaction, and I saw her eyes dip to the obvious bulge in my trousers. She must have been either naked or topless in front of the undraped window for over thirty minutes but, apart from her rosy cheeks, you’d never have guessed. She crossed the room and stepped outside, pausing for me to catch her up.

  With the sun backlighting her I could see how thin the dress was. I could clearly see the line of the tops of her stockings as a darker shadow. Higher up, the same was true of her panties. Nothing obscene, but a definite shadow. She’d never ever been this exhibitionistic with me throughout our time together. I was seeing a different side of Samantha, whether I liked it or not. She half turned, and this time I saw the bodice of the dress was double layered, preventing her nipples being seen, although they were indenting the front of the dress.

  “Shall we go?”

  * * * *

  With it being early on a Thursday, and after college turned out but before the holiday season began in earnest, the lakeside steak-house a quarter of the way around the lake from Sam’s condo wasn’t busy. As a result we didn’t have to wait for a table, and were seated next to the window looking out over the lake. Sam studied the view for a minute or so, then pointed across the expanse of water.

  “There, that’s ours.”

  I tried to line my head up with her arm to see, and I think I managed to locate our place, but it was well over a mile away—nothing much more than a set of white blobs on the edge of the far side of the lake. She chuckled and kissed my cheek and I sat back.

  “Gotcha!”

  “Not fair.”

  “All’s fair, honey. You know that.”

  I liked the way she described it as our place. Up to that point, in my mind, it had been her place. As I gazed at the view across the lake I realized why she’d never given it up. I knew there were memories she wanted to bury on this lakeshore—memories she was now having to dredge up to confess to me.

  “Peppered steak?”

  “I’d prefer the shitake sauce.”

  “And, no doubt, the fries.”

  I chuckled. “Of course, the fries. Don’t tell me you’re settling for the rabbit food.”

  She shook her head and licked her lips. “No, they do the southern curly fries here—you know they’re my favorite.”

  “Ah, didn’t see those.”

  “So, we’re agreed?”

  I double checked the menu and, agreeing, called the waiter over. We’d both decided to settle for a beer back at the condo afterward rather than wine with the steak, so we stuck with the water and watched the sun setting over the lake as we ate. The view was stunning, but I had to say I thought the view from the condo was even better. I briefly thought about taking the boat out once we got home, wondering exactly what that dress would look like billowing in the wind as we sped over the surface, then realized that I didn’t know the first thing about navigation at night, let alone how good the speed enforcement on the lake was after dark.

  “What are you thinking? Something naughty—I can tell from the way your eyes are glinting.”

  I tried not to laugh, then lowered my gaze, noticing the way her nipples, that had flattened as we ate, were now hard and pushing little dents into the front of her dress again.

  “I was thinking about how you’d look standing on the deck of that boat as I zoomed across the lake.”

  “You mean in this dress?”

  “Yep.”

  She shuddered, and I could see her nipples extend even further. “Obscene, I guess. Especially if I slipped my panties off first.”

  “Minx!”

  “Hey, it was your fantasy, not mine, but I’m game.”

  “Your exhibitionist streak is showing again.”

  “You didn’t exactly object earlier.”

  We both decided to forgo the calories implicit in the key lime pie or the cheesecake and, settling the bill, we headed outside. I had my arm around her and, as we stepped outside, it was noticeably cooler. Sam shivered from the sudden chill and cuddled into my side, and I handed her into the car, being careful not to look down for too long as she flashed the obligatory amount of thigh.

  We were both quiet as we drove back to the condo. It was still early, and Sam knew it was time for another instalment of her confession. Nothing was said as we got out of the car outside the condo and, after a brief look over the now moonlit lake, we closed the doors on the outside world. This time, before we got started, I made sure all the drapes were drawn, then pulled two beers from the fridge, and once more we sat opposite each other.

  “I need you to continue, Sam.”

  “I know, but why close the drapes?”

  I chuckled and took a pull at my Bud. “Because, if you decide to go all exhibitionistic on me again, I don’t want the world to watch.”

  “There was nobody watching other than you earlier.”

  “Except for the fishermen with the binoculars—on at least two boats.”

  Her hand went to her mouth in shock, but she was giggling far too quickly for the shock to be real. After a few moments, she sobered and put her bottle down on the table between us.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about Frank Bryant. Tell me about those weeks leading up to me meeting you, and the weeks after.”

  She bit her lip and slowly nodded.

  “Then tomorrow you can tell me about Max and his sons.”

  “Okay, but you might not want to hear all this.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not about wanting anything, Sam. It’s about needing to hear, to know if we have any chance of working through this.”

  She swallowed hard. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Two – Frank’s Perversions

  I guess Mr. Bryant noticed the difference in me when I turned up to work on the Monday morning after my Saturday night with Kirk. I suppose I was smiling, just like the cat that got the cream—and indeed I had. He didn’t try to question me, but all through the day I could see him watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking, with a wry smile on his face.

  At closing time he beckoned me into his office. “I guess you enjoyed your weekend, Sammie?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bryant, I did.”

  “So this boyfriend wasn’t the disappointment the previous one had been?”

  I shivered. Memories flooding through me had me aroused in seconds. I’d had a background level of arousal all day—enough to keep my nipples partially hard, and my pussy moist. Now, as I consciously thought about my w
eekend, my pussy was wet.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. I knew dinner would be ready when he got home so time was tight. “I don’t think you’ve got enough time.”

  “Oh, he was that good, was he?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “So, how many times, or did you lose count?”

  “Six times before he left on Sunday after breakfast.”

  “And you came every time?”

  “No, not every time, but most—and he brought me off a few times too.”

  “A proper stud.”

  “Definitely.”

  “And you’re planning on seeing him again?”

  “Hopefully, yes.”

  “This weekend?”

  I closed my eyes briefly and nodded.

  “Good, I’m pleased. But, first things first.”

  I kind of guessed what was coming—he wanted me to blow him. I started to walk toward him, but he raised his hand to stop me.

  “Drop to your knees, baby.”

  I thought he was going to come to me, rather than get me to walk around his desk—he varied the routine from one time to another. I hitched my skirt up above my knees so I wasn’t going to catch it beneath my knees and then dropped to one knee, moving gracefully. That was a deliberate move. Keeping one knee up meant the skirt rode back up my thigh, revealing the top of my stocking and a shadowy glimpse of the area between my legs—he liked that kind of tease. Then I lowered my other knee.

  “Hands on the floor.”

  This was different. I was sure he didn’t have time to fuck me, but if that’s what he wanted—me doggie style—I’d let him, and I’d enjoy it too.

  “Crawl to me, baby, under the desk.”

  “Wha…?”

  More than anything else, that last command surprised me as I watched him scoot his chair back a few inches while watching me intently. After a moment I started to move toward him, placing one hand in front of the other, and then moving the opposite knee forward. Each move brought me closer to the large hole in his desk. Although there was a modesty panel, it only came halfway down to the floor, unlike my desk where it was a full height one. As a result I was able to wiggle underneath it and take small movements to complete the process of entering the kneehole of his desk. The first thing I changed about that desk when he retired was to fit a proper panel to it.