Grant Me A Wish

Turning to sit on the edge of the bed, he spotted his reflection in his dresser mirror. After staring at himself for several minutes he mumbled, "You can be such a jackass sometimes, buster. And you really don't even have to put any effort into it."

After losing several more bouts with his conscience he decided he should go check on Bridget and make sure she was okay. Grabbing his robe from its hook, he headed quietly down the stairs, his mind still working him over. "I guess I owe her an apology," he grumbled. "Then she'll go all emotional on me and the next thing you know, she'll be wanting sex again. What goes wrong with a woman that makes her so damn horny after she gets a few years on her? Seems like everything Bridget does is just another scheme to get laid. Doesn't she have anything better to do? I mean, isn't being a mother and raising two teenagers enough to keep her mind occupied? Whatever happened to the good old days when women thought sex was just something they had to do to keep their husbands happy or to make babies?"

He suddenly realized he was talking out loud to himself and shut up. He wanted to see what Bridget was up to, but he didn't want her to know he was checking up on her.She might get the wrong idea and think I'm looking for a little action or something stupid like that. Nope, I'll just peak around the corners until I figure out where she is. Then I'll slip back off to bed once I make sure she's all right.

Grant momentarily froze in his tracks when he heard soft, sexy moans coming from the family room.

#

Gradually, almost without realizing what she was doing, Bridget's hands slipped under her robe and began to work their way down over her yearning body. One hand stopped on her right breast, teasing its already excited nipple to full erection. The other hand slipped slowly over the slick, sexy fabric covering her stomach. She drew a deep breath when her hand slid between her yielding thighs, pressing the silky material of her delicate nightie against the similar material of her panties, and that sexy silkiness glided over her long-neglected womanhood.

Gentle, deliberate strokes up and down the valley of her soul brought a soft moan to her throat. Little by little, her thighs parted as the wonderful pressure exerted by her long, elegant fingers steadily grew and their speed increased. The terrycloth robe slowly slid from her lap and dropped to the floor when she raised her legs and draped them over the arms of the recliner. The pleasure she was experiencing far outweighed any fear she might have had concerning her children walking in on her. As a matter of fact, nothing on the planet concerned her right then beyond that small portion of her anatomy that existed between her thighs. Her head slowly rocked from side to side. She caught sight of the woman in the mirror again. Her head rolled no more, she could not pull her eyes from the sexy creature she had spotted. As she watched, her moans grew, both in frequency and volume.

Looking at her own body in a mirror had never sexually aroused Bridget. But then again, she had never before viewed her reflection as she was about to come crashing through Heaven's door. She watched the needful look of desire on her face change to a lustful, out-of-control look as her head involuntarily tilted back. But the look on her face when her mouth dropped open and her hips rose, begging for more, as the first gentle swells of ecstasy rippled through her long-deprived body was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. Her breath came in shallow gasps and her insides trembled while she savored the soft pulses of pleasure coursing through her.

Bridget's hips dropped back to the chair. Even though this had been her first orgasm in well over a year, this moment of pleasure had been much too brief and far too weak to quench the sweltering fires burning deep inside of her.

"Oh God, don't stop now!" she begged, as disappointment filled her soul and her hands began working frantically between her thighs. "I'm not finished yet! I need more!"

#

Easing up to the doorway into the family room, Grant cautiously peaked around the corner toward Bridget's recliner. He was surprised to discover the TV wasn't turned on. He had figured that was where the sexy moans were coming from. The real surprise was what he saw his wife doing. He had spotted her just in time to see her with her hips raised high above the chair and her hands working feverishly between her thighs.

He had never seen her looking so sexy, so inviting. His limp manhood instantly sprang to attention with one of the hardest erections he could ever remember having. His hand slid inside his robe and began slowly stroking up and down the full length of his suddenly hard member. He found himself wanting to rush into the room and slam his hardness as deep as he could between her open thighs. In his mind, he could feel her tight, warm, wet, slipperiness wrapped around his granite-hard shaft as his own fingers squeezed tighter around it.

He saw Bridget drop back into her chair and heard her begging for more. He started through the door. He was just the guy who could give her more. Suddenly he jumped back against the hallway wall. Two things caused this rapid change of plans. One was the realization that in his present state of arousal, the only person he was going to satisfy was himself. He knew he would be lucky to get his excited shaft inside of her before he exploded, much less be able to put it to her long enough to do her any good.

The second thing that stopped him was the fact that Bridget had jumped up out of her chair, turned it around toward the mirrored wall, and taken off her panties before she climbed back into the recliner. She immediately went back to work between her wide spread thighs.

"Damn! She looks hot!" Grant mumbled under his breath.

That was when a third reason for not entering the family room to rescue his wife came up, or more precisely, came out. Grant grabbed the front of his robe and held it against the swollen head of his over-stimulated member just in time to prevent a huge mess in the hallway. He went off with such ferocity, that had he not been leaning against the wall, he would have collapsed to the floor when his legs went all rubbery on him as surge after powerful surge of his premature juices shot into the robe in his hand.

#

Bridget had no idea Grant was watching her as she turned her chair to face directly at the mirror. She placed it just far enough away from the mirror to allow the recliner to open up all the way. She picked her robe up from the floor, folded it, and placed it over the seat of the chair before she sat back down. She figured, or more correctly,hoped, things were about to get messy and she didn't want to leave behind any tell-tales stains on the expensive velour upholstery of the chair, which might attest to what was about to take place in the family room.

Once back in her chair, laid back all the way, one leg draped over each arm of the chair, her fingers began anew. But this time the delicate, lace panties lay on the arm of the chair instead of in the way between her eager thighs. The middle finger of one hand gently caressed her swollen clit, while the middle finger of the other worked rhythmically in and out of her weeping center. She was climbing the stairway to orgasm fast, much too fast. She could feel the need for release growing by leaps and bounds as she neared the edge. She needed it desperately, but she wasn't ready for it yet. She wanted more. If she let it happen now, it would be over, and she was enjoying the pleasure of the journey far too much to let the trip come to a meek ending so soon. She was in it for the long haul, for a much more climatic finish.

Her breath caught in her chest and a soft moan slipped from her slender throat when she almost plunged over the edge. "Not yet," she groaned, fearing she hadn't stopped in time. "It won't be strong enough if I cum now." This time she was talking to the woman staring back at her from the mirror. "We're not ready yet, are we, Leslie?"

That was when it hit her. She hadn't thought of Leslie in years, not since she had married Grant after college. Well, she hadn't thought about her in a sexual manner anyhow. Not that they had ever had sex together. But if Bridget had ever had a lesbian love affair, it would have been with the beautiful, sweet Leslie. Even though they had never gotten together or even discussed the matter, Bridget had had this thing for Leslie. She had never mentioned her feelings to Leslie. Hell, she had never actually considered them herself. She liked men and so did Leslie. In fact, Leslie couldn't get men off of her mind,ever.

The thought of going to bed with her had never entered Bridget's mind, but she did like to secretly watch Leslie in bed after she thought Bridget was asleep. She had spent many nights peaking though a peephole from under her covers, watching Leslie bring herself off under the soft, warm glow of her reading lamp.

Of course, Bridget had done the same thing on many occasions, but she had always been a little more discreet about it. She would only do it when she was alone or after she was sure Leslie was fast asleep. And then only under the covers in the silent darkness of their room, biting her lips the whole time to keep from moaning out loud. But not Leslie, she liked to toss the blankets aside and lay naked under her reading lamp, her gorgeous legs spread wide, with her long, slender fingers dancing up a storm between her delightful thighs. Knowing Bridget was a sound sleeper Leslie didn't even try to conceal her moans and groans. Sometimes Leslie would grab her pillow, pull it over her face, and scream at the top of her lungs when she hit that wonderful moment and ecstasy would come crashing down on her.

Bridget could always tell by Leslie's moans if it was going to be one of those scream-into-her-pillow nights and made sure she was ready to secretly join Leslie when her moment of rapture arrived. The instant she heard Leslie's muffled scream Bridget could not help but to explode in unison with her. That scream was the sexiest sound Bridget had ever heard in her life.

Even now, just thinking about Leslie's delightful scream was bringing Bridget closer to the magic moment she had been holding back in hope of achieving on a much greater scale. Suddenly she realized the woman she had been watching and talking to in the mirror had, in her mind, had become her beloved Leslie.

#

Grant had started to return to the bedroom. He felt a bit embarrassed standing in the hall with his spent, shrinking penis in his hand and a huge wet spot in the front of his robe. But then he heard Bridget talking to someone. He hadn't seen anyone else in the family room.

His mind went to work again.Who the hell's she talking to? Who the hell's in there with my wife while she's acting like that? Somebody's about to get a good ass kickin'!

Then he heard, "We're not ready yet, are we, Leslie?"

"Leslie? Who in the hell's Leslie?" Grant mumbled. Forgetting about the wet spot covering a large portion of the front of his robe, Grant released his grip on his now shriveled member, and stepped just through the door into the family room. Quickly surveying the room, the only person he found was Bridget. She was still sprawled out in her recliner with her legs spread wide over the arms of the chair, watching herself masturbate like a mad woman in front of the mirror. But this didn't explain who Leslie was.

Grant froze in place as he watched his wife erupt with an orgasm of apparent epic proportions. Her body arched. Her head flew back. In the mirror Grant could see her juices flowing profusely over her hands and thighs. One of her hands leaped from between her thighs and clamped over her mouth just in time to somewhat muffle a lung busting scream of pleasure. He stood spellbound, seeing Bridget, as he had never seen her before. At that moment, she was without a doubt, the sexiest creature he had ever laid eyes on. His breath caught in his lungs as he watched her licking her own juices from her fingers.

Grant felt a familiar stirring in his loins and that unmistakable urge a man gets when his brain drops from the head on his shoulder to the head on his dick. But he wasn't about to interrupt the rapture Bridget was experiencing. It was simply much too sexy to watch to be interfered with at the moment. His own needs would have to wait a little while. Or would they?

#

Within seconds, Bridget's insides were coming unglued. Her body shuddered and shook as the first massive waves of delight surged within her. Just like in the old days of watching her beloved Leslie, Bridget sucked in her both of her lips and clamped down on them hard with her teeth to keep from screaming out loud. But in her head and in her heart, she could hear the woman in the mirror's exciting muffled scream. It was music to Bridget's ears; a long forgotten, but once-cherished tune, rediscovered.

Opening her eyes and raising her head slightly to sneak a peak at the woman in the mirror, Bridget was delighted to see the sexy image of Leslie in one of her more beautiful moments spread out before her. She had never seen Leslie so excited or intense about what she was doing. Nor had she ever been treated to such a wide-open, wonderfully clear view of what Leslie was actually doing between her thighs. The soft whimper in Bridget's throat suddenly escalated into a full-blown scream of pleasure the moment she saw Leslie's heavenly juices gushing from her glistening womanhood. Jerking her hand from her own center and slapping it over her mouth to stifle her scream somewhat, she realized just how wet her own womanhood was. But when her wet fingers touched her lips, it was Leslie's sweet lady cum she tasted, not her own. Sucking her drenched fingers deep into her mouth, her tongue danced over, around, and between them, savoring ever last drop, while the fingers of her other hand worked frantically at her enraged clit.

Bridget's eyes slowly focused on the eyes of the woman in the mirror. She was licking her finger just like Bridget was, but she was tasting Bridget's thick, sweet juices.

"I want more," Bridget whispered, lightly kissing the tips of her fingers as they slipped from her mouth.

"Me too," Bridget heard the woman in the mirror reply as their hands returned to the joining of their respective thighs, and two fingers sank deep into each of their velvety tunnels.

Bridget's eyes jumped up and down between Leslie's pretty, emotion-filled face and her sobbing womanhood. The last thing she remembered seeing before she passed out from pure pleasure was the most beautiful look of intense excitement she had ever seen on anyone's face and hearing that magnificent scream of Leslie's.

Just as the need for rest after such a wonderful experience was shutting her body down to all outside stimuli, Bridget thought she saw movement out the corner of her eye. But she was far too spent to take real notice of Grant as he raced from the family room with his fist tightly wrapped around his throbbing, pulsating penis and the rapidly spreading wet spot on the front of his robe.

Grant collapsed against the hallway wall again, exhausted, as the final dwindling spasms drained the last drops of cum from his loins. He remained motionless against the wall for what seemed like an eternity, milking the moment and his retiring manhood for every last ounce of pleasure each contained. He couldn't remember the last time he had been treated to the wonderful sensations of a second orgasm in a single evening, much less within a span of only a few minutes.

Now spent, drained, and exhausted, mentally, physically, and sexually, Grant peaked through the door for one last glimpse at Bridget before he went back to bed. She was a vision of pure beauty and sexuality lying in her recliner sound asleep, her legs still draped over the arms of the chair. She had the sweet smile of a totally satisfied woman on her relaxed face. It was a look Grant had not seen in a very long time. He was surprised to discover that it bothered him to know that he'd had absolutely nothing to do with putting that beautiful smile on her happy face. That was something else he couldn't remember the last time he had done.

Almost on tiptoe, he crept back into the family room and eased up next to Bridget's chair. He couldn't leave her lying there exposed like that all night. What would happen if the kids woke up and came downstairs and found her like that before she woke up? As gently as he could, Grant took the tail of his robe and cleaned up as much of the wet, sweet smelling mess as he could from Bridget's hands and from between her long, slender thighs. Lifting her legs one by one, he placed them each in a more proper position.

Getting Bridget's robe out from under her without waking her up proved to be a much more difficult task. Once he finally got the robe out from under her, he discovered it was too wet to use to cover Bridget's nakedness. It was much wetter than the twice-soiled robe he had on, which was also too wet and nasty to use as a blanket. After a quick trip down the hall, Grant covered Bridget with a blanket from the bed in the guestroom. The last thing he did before leaving the family room was to lean over and give his wife a small kiss on her forehead.

She would have given up everything she owned to have heard him actually utter the words he spoke as he looked down at her. Completely out of character and in a language so unlike Grant, he whispered, "Baby, we gotta do something about this shit. It just ain't right. I love you, Bridget. I know you don't believe it, but I really do."

Grant slowly crept up the stairs, leaving his wife asleep and alone in the family room.

#

Grant crawled into bed looking forward to what he figured was going to be one of the most peaceful, restful night's sleep he had experienced in years. Tired and spent as his body was in every respect, he hoped he could make it all the way into the bed before he fell asleep.

Ninety minutes later he was still tossing and turning, and had the sheets and blankets so twisted he couldn't have gotten comfortable even if he'd been a snake. Trying to get out of the bed in order to put it back together, he nearly fell to the floor because his feet were tightly tangled in the sheets.

He spent the next fifteen minutes repairing the extensive damage his sleeplessness had caused to the bed linens. Well, five minutes were spent fixing the bed; the other ten were spent mulling over what was causing his unrest. He should've been out like a dead light bulb the second he had hit the sheets. All he managed to come up with was that something was wrong or something was missing. But he couldn't determine just exactly what thatsomething might be.

He was sure it wasn't anything to do with the fact that Bridget wasn't in the bed with him. He'd spent many nights without her being next to him. His job required him to be on the road a lot. Plus, there had been plenty of nights when they had had an argument and one or the other of them would end up sleeping in the family room or the guestroom.

"Nope," he grumbled, "can't be that."Or could it? he silently wondered. He had definitely seen a different side of her earlier that evening. And he had most-definitely liked what he had seen. He'd liked it enough to cause him to jerk off twice in a row, and enough to make him wish she hadn't past out because he had wanted to watch her a bit longer.

He finally decided that Bridget couldn't possibly be the cause of his sudden sleep disorder. But just to be certain, he went downstairs to bring her back to their bedroom. "Besides," he mumbled as he descended the steps, "she shouldn't be sleeping down there dressed like that anyway. The kids might get up before she does. Now that wouldn't be very proper, would it?"