by Geist, Sean
What Flirting Leads To
By
Sean Geist
Published by Sean Geist
Copyright 2015 Sean Geist
Cover Photo Voy / Bigstock.Com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.
All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any actual persons is entirely coincidental.
All characters in this story are over the age of 18 unless specified.
Acknowledgement
I would like to start by thanking my editor, who just happens to be my wife. I am lucky to have married a woman with almost unlimited patience and the ability to spot where a comma should go. She will always be my muse. I would also like to thank my friends for all the encouraging words, even after reading my rough drafts. And a final thanks to you, my reader. I write for myself, but it's nice to know other people enjoy what I do.
As always, any mistakes that remain in this text are entirely my fault.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
Other Stories by Sean Geist
Chapter 1
“You coming to the party, Keith?”
I was justing starting to eat when my best friend came into the lunch room at work. In fact, it was the only place I seemed to run into him anymore. For the past six months our company's whole IT department, where Keith worked, had been working sixty plus hours a week, tasked with solving one of the computer world's most urgent problems – getting computers to recognize the upcoming date change.
It was near the end of December in 1999, and while my wife and I were hard at work planning an epic fin du siecle party, Keith was slaving over a computer keyboard making sure all the company's computer systems would be working smoothly at 12:00AM on January 1st.
The reason for this was pretty arcane and I'm not sure about the specific details, but Keith told me it had something to do with ancient computers and limited memory.
Back in the sixties, when businesses were just starting to computerize, programmers took a short cut and abbreviated the date from four digits (1965) to two (65). They figured they wouldn't be around when it became a real problem, thirty or so years in the future. And they were right.
As time passed, instead of rewriting the software, when memory stopped being an issue, so that computers could tell the difference between the 20th and 21st centuries, most businesses and governmental agencies took the cheaper route of just ignoring the problem, so we had large banks, the IRS, and even local traffic control systems running on obsolete software.
As the year 2000 approached, the fear was important computer systems around the globe would hit a glitch at midnight and freeze up. The news channels didn't help matters as they speculated about a massive stock market crash, ATM's that wouldn't dispense cash, Air Traffic control systems failing, and the nation's power grid shutting down. Fun times.
Long story short – Keith was not planning on attending our party.
“Gonna be a real blowout,” I said.
“I know.” Keith grabbed a banana and Coke from the fridge and started to head back to his office
“We're gonna party like it's nineteen ninety nine,” I sang in my best Prince impersonation. I dropped the falsetto and said, “because it is.”
Keith just rolled his eyes and left. I went back to eating my bologna sandwich and reading the New York Times.
When I got home, Jennifer, my wife, was sitting at the kitchen table staring down at a stack of papers. In her left hand she held a black ball point pen and was absent-mindedly tapping it against the table. She was playing with a strand of her hair with her right hand, her pink skin a stark contrast against her raven black locks. She looked so beautiful lost in her thoughts.
She was wearing a pair of head phones and hadn't heard me come in. I loved to catch her in these moments, when she didn't know she was being watched, when she was daydreaming, or concentrating on an especially tough crossword puzzle. The intensity of her steel grey eyes could be mesmerizing
I would have loved to just stand and stare at her forever, but then, this would be a very short story, and I didn't.
I walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. She was briefly startled and took off the head phones. I could hear Prince, of course, playing on her Sony Walkman.
“I didn't hear you come in,” she said, looking up at me.
“Of course you didn't. How can you concentrate with the music blaring in your ears?”
“Hey, lay off. I'm just getting in the mood.”
She was working on a multi-colored list of names, everyone invited to our New Year's Eve party.
My wife was very organized. As an officer in the National Guard, that skill was handy; for party planning, it was essential.
All the names, about thirty in total, where written in blue. Couples attending together were highlighted in pink, single guys in green, single ladies in yellow. A few of the names were crossed out in black; they weren't coming.
My wife and I were supplying the location, food, soft drinks and mixers. People bring beer had a little red B next to their name, W for wine, S for spirits. Our friend, Issac's name was underlined twice in blue. He was in charge of the music, since he had a portable boombox and about 50 or more CD's.
I bent down to give Jen a quick kiss on the neck, but she surprised me by turning and locking her lips to mine. She tasted sweet, like warm honey.
“Been snacking on the caramels again?” I said after reluctantly pulling away.
“Yeah, I can't help it. Blame your Mom for always sending them at Christmas.”
“Speaking of Christmas, we have any plans?”
Neither Jennifer nor I really much cared to celebrate Christmas. My wife's family were Jewish, I was raised in a mixed family – my mother was Catholic, my father, an athiest. I celebrated as a kid; I loved getting presents, but once I went off to college I just kind of gave it up. We don't have any kids of our own, so it just isn't important to us.
So every year, we buy a few gifts for family; Jen keeps the list of course, and ship them off in early December.
While we do attend a few Christmas parties, we concentrate on celebrating the New Year.
“I was thinking we could go see a movie,” Jennifer said. “Didn't you want to go see Galaxy Quest?”
“Yeah, the trailer looks awesome.”
“Okay, that's what we're doing on Christmas.
“Now that that's settled, “ I said, “I've got some bad news.”
“What?” The smile that had been playing in my wife's eyes dimmed a bit.
“Nothing really important,” I picked up the black marker and crossed Keith's name off the list.
“Crap,” Jennifer said with a look of real disappointment. “I guess that means Carmen's a no show as well.”
“Keith said they'll both be working late into New Year's morning. He has to nurse our computer network into the new millennium and his girlfriend pulled a late shift at the hospital.”
The look of disappointment lingered as I explained why my best friend wasn't going to make the party. I didn't understand why, since our house was going to be crowded enough with the throng of people who would be attending. I just hoped she'd be as upset if I wasn't able to attend.
Since Jennifer had spent all day working on the party planning, we decided to go out to our favorite steak restaurant to eat.
“You know,” I said, just before cutting into the juicy filet that sat in front of me, “I never got to ask you how reserve trainin
g went last week.”
As a member of the National Guard, Jennifer had to attend one two-day drill session a month and a two week training camp in the summer. She had just gotten back from December's drill the day before.
“Nothing unusual happened, really. P-T, some classroom stuff and – oh, we reorganized the camping gear, want to hear about that?”
P-T was short for physical training and that was how Jennifer was able to keep her amazingly trim body in shape, despite her love of fattening desserts. Low body fat also meant she had small breasts. I've never complained about it, and I never would. I loved my wife's lean, muscular body. She was always telling me she'd get implants if I wanted her to. I told her no, I thought she looked sexy just the way she was. Now if she wanted to do it for herself, well, that was different.
“Carl still hitting on you?” I asked. Carl was a fellow officer who, Jennifer had told me, was always making passes at her. She said he was sweet and very good looking, and he was a complete gentleman when she always begged off his invitation to go out after drilling.
She called him mostly harmless.
“Yeah. He asked me out to a New Year's Eve event downtown.”
I laughed and said, “Tell me more.” This talk of another man hitting on my wife always seemed to arouse me. I didn't know why, but it did.
“I told him no – he knows I'm married - but somehow he got me to invite him to the party.
“You did what?” My cock twitched. I moved to adjust myself, hoping Jennifer didn't notice. The thought of another guy who had the hots for my wife was one thing, it was hypothetical – a what if. Finding out this unknown factor was coming to the party sent my head spinning. “The man eager to get into your married pussy is coming to our house?”
“Yeah,” she said, a sheepish look on her face. “You're not mad, are you?”
I paused to think. Was I mad? I thought about delving into why she invited him, but I was afraid I might get too upset, so I let it slide for now. I loved Jennifer and I trusted her. I had to, because every month she went off to basically camp out with a bunch of fellow soldiers, most of them men. I decided I was not going to be mad.
“No. Just a little surprised,” I said. It was a true, if not totally complete, answer. “When were you going to tell me?”
My wife was silent for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with a lock of her hair. “I guess. I guess I was going to wait until the party.”
Jennifer's total attitude was shocking to me. She was usually upfront about her actions. Never doubting and never second guessing. This Carl was having a real disruptive effect on my wife. Maybe she needed to take it up with her commanding officer.
I thought about telling her to dis-invite him. To make up some excuse, or just come out and tell him he wasn't welcome in our house. But then I would be the bad guy, putting my wife, who was just trying to be nice, into an awkward situation. So I thought to myself, what the hell?
“I feel kinda weird about having this guy here, but if you vouch for him, fine. You're the one keeping the list.”
“Thanks,” Jennifer said, her face brightened when she realized I wasn't going to force her to rescind her invite. “Carl's a really nice guy, just overly flirtatious, and he has a hard time taking 'no' for an answer.”
And you seem to have a hard time saying no to him, I didn't say. On second thought I was wrong, she had to tell him no on several occasions. I guess saying yes to him coming to our party was better than her saying yes to any of his other requests.
Later, in bed, I was pleasantly surprised when Jennifer was receptive to my sexual advances. Usually the stress of party planning puts her off the mood and we don't actually have sex for the entire month of December. We make up for it in January.
Tonight, the thought that at least one other guy who had the hots for my wife was going to be at our party aroused me. I didn't understand it, but I didn't question it. I knew I didn't want her fucking another man, but flirting, that was harmless I thought.
The talk of Carl also seemed to arouse Jennifer. I moved my hand down her smooth taut stomach and under the waist band of her cotton panties. I found her pussy sopping wet.
My wife and I have a very healthy and active sex life, at least I think so, and I believe she would agree. We don't schedule a night for sex, but on average, other than December, we do it once or twice a week. Sometimes we'll go a few weeks without, those are hard weeks for me, but then on a weekend we'll end up fucking like rabbits – a healthy sex life.
On nights we do have sex, it takes a little work to get Jen up and running; we don't do quickies without lube of some kind. I'll kiss her neck, massage her back, slowly work my way to her more sensitive parts – her modest but oh so enticing breasts. I'll usually put in a good fifteen or twenty minutes of foreplay to get Jennifer to the point where she can easily take my cock. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Foreplay is great, I'm just giving you the facts.
Tonight, was different. Tonight, she was ready before her butt hit the bed.
Like I said, I was running my fingers across her mound and found her folds warm and moist. Before I had even touched her breasts, Jennifer was ready. Something, other than my manual manipulation had got her excited. The only thing I could think of that might put her in this state was our talk of Carl. No matter the reason, I would be the one benefiting from her arousal. No, strike that. We would both be benefiting from her arousal.
Even though she was ready, I still wanted to take time to play with my wife's breasts. They're small, well-formed mounds that suit her tall, trim body rather nicely, and they're very sensitive; I think I said that. I love to talk about her breasts. I love to pepper them with kisses and suckle on her jelly bean sized nipples.
I started with the left, touching my lips on the top edge, high on her chest and slowly worked my way down toward her core, nesting my face in the small valley of her cleavage. I nipped at one of her nipples and Jen let out a short sharp moan, like she was catching her breath. She continued to moan and sigh as I nipped and flicked my tongue against her little buttons, first the left, then the right. I started to suck on one and grope her other one with my free hand.
“Oh god, Michael, that feels wonderful.” she said between breaths. “I really want to feel you inside me now.”
“Not done yet,” I said and started inching my way down, pressing kisses on her tight abs, on my way to my destination.
Her pussy was beautiful. Her labia was engorged and moist, it's dark color contrasted with the bright pink of her slit – open and dripping dew. I saw a few drops pooling at the bottom of her lips, near her ass. It looked so delectable. I moved to lap it up, but before I could get there Jennifer grabbed my head and said, “Stop.” She tilted my head up til our gazes met. “I really, REALLY, need you to fuck me now. You can go down on me after.”
My cock was achingly hard and ready, so I didn't argue.
I crawled up the bed, over my wife's beautiful, sweaty body, and kissed her on the mouth. Passion over took us. Jennifer forced her tongue into my mouth, claiming it. While she held my head, I held her hips and started rubbing my dick back and forth across the warm folds of her lower lips.
“Stop teasing me,” my wife said. She reached down, grabbed my erection and guided it home. She was more than ready, with no effort at all I slid all the way in. When my pubic bone made contact with her clitoris we both let out a moan of pleasure.
I started moving in and out, Jennifer matched each thrust with one of her own. We were working our bodies in rhythm, one only a couple truly aware of each other's needs and desires could achieve.
“Fuck me, Michael,” she whispered into my ear, and I obliged.
“You are. Really wet. Tonight.” I said in cadence with my thrusting.
“I know.” Jennifer gasped, extending the oh into Oh-God. “I can't explain it.
I could have guessed why, but I didn't. I just closed my eyes and kept on fucking her. I concentrated on the pleasure focused in my cock
and spreading out from my groin into my hips and up my spine. I pictured my wife, her head thrown back, eyes closed, sweat dripping down the sides of her face. Her mouth was open, crying out in pleasure.
As I continued pounding away at my wife, I realized I wasn't really the one driving her pleasure. I imagined a different man, a faceless man – Carl – between her outstretched legs, thrusting his hips with a force I had never been able to apply. I imagined this other man, this stranger, this unknown, fucking my wife while I watched, and I swear my cock got harder.
“Oh, Michael, you're a real dynamo tonight.”
“Should I slow down, be more gentle?” I asked opening my eyes to look at my wife.
“Only if you want to die,” she said, wrapping her legs around me and squeezing. The smile in her eyes indicating she was joking, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to pull out if I had wanted to, and I didn't. I closed my eyes and kept on pounding.
“Yes... Yes... Yes...” Jennifer's cries of satisfaction were in rhythm with each stroke. And again I was watching Carl, my faceless rival, fuck my wife and I could feel my climax approaching.
I didn't want to come before Jennifer so I tried to think of something else and let the pleasure fade. No matter what I did I still came back to Carl fucking my wife. I thought about baseball, but saw Carl and Jen going at it on the Jumbotron. I thought about my Dad dying (he wasn't dead) and all I saw was Jen bent over a headstone with Carl behind her pounding away at her pussy.
It was awful, but awfully arousing at the same time. I was really close to coming and I didn't think I could stop it.
At that moment I felt the walls of my wife's vagina contract. “mi-Chael” she screamed. And instead of my name I heard “my Carl” and I came so fucking hard. I cried out in joy and jealousy and painted my wife's womb with six or seven thick strings of semen.
Afterward, we lay cuddling, my arms wrapped around my wife, her back against my chest. I could feel her steady breathing.
