tagLoving WivesInterstate 5

Interstate 5

byJambalaya©

The summer sun had turned the grass-covered hills along Interstate 5 a golden color. We cruised along the west side of California's Central Valley headed to San Francisco for a short vacation. The drive can be boring, especially if you are alone. But my wife Julie and I were enjoying the drive because it gave us time for wide-ranging conversation. We had been so busy for the two years after our wedding that we seemed never to have much quiet time together.

It was during a quiet moment that she jolted me with a confession.

"I did it with Frank," she whispered, as I stared at the highway.

"What?" I turned to look at her. I was confused, unsure of her meaning. I could read nothing in her face. Her eyes looked ahead, then downward.

"I did it with Frank," she repeated, with the same quiet voice. From the corner of my eye, I saw her head turn to look at me. I sensed that she was examining me for my reaction.

"You had sex with Frank?" I suddenly realized what she meant, and my shock caused my voice to rise a little. She couldn't tell, but my surprise was not at the fact she had done it with Frank, but that she was telling me, volunteering her sexual exploit when she had never hinted at any sex with anyone besides me. Why was she telling me this, I wondered? Was she about to confess her love for him, that she wanted a divorce to be with the man of her dreams? That all the loving things she had said and done for me were false? My heart thumped in my chest . . .

Silence between us. For just a moment the radio faded into the distance as I heard wind, just wind.

"Do you love him?"

"Of course not," she said quickly and firmly. "It just happened, and I don't know why. It was just sex. I want to be with you, forever, because I love you and I always will. I don't know why I even told you. Let's talk about something else." She now seemed upset.

"Where did it happen?" I asked after another pause.

I saw her face turn toward me again, as I kept my eyes ahead, nervous and unsure of how I felt.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" She asked, looking away again.

"Are you sure you want to tell me?" I asked, my voice quiet now.

We cruised along, but I realized that my speed had drifted down from 75 to below the speed limit.

"Yes, tell me about it. I want to hear. The details. Everything." I heard myself say these words, and felt an odd aching low in my belly, where I sensed more than felt some small movement.

Julie remained silent, contemplating. I looked and saw her green eyes staring at the highway. Her lips mouthed, "It was in his car."

I became aware now that the ache was a precursor to a burgeoning erection that shot to full bloom in seconds. God, I thought, what is going on here? My wife had sex with another man. Not only is she telling me about it, not in bitterness or anger, but for some kind of relief, it seemed. And not only was I listening patiently, without anger, I was eager. And not just eager, my angry cock had swelled to a hardness that tested the strength of my Levis. My jeans felt cramped, tight, uncomfortable. My cock throbbed and my only comfort was flexing my cock-moving muscles. My breathing was shallow. Should I adjust myself? I waited, silent and tense. Julie began softly.

"We had gone to a movie, Frank with Jeannie and me with Ron. Frank drove us." Jeannie was Frank's girlfriend, and now his wife. They had married a few months before Julie and I did. Ron was Julie's boyfriend at the time, a ne'er-do-well whom she dated to irritate her controlling parents.

"We were all 18, and were seeing our first sexy movie. We had been kissing our dates in the theater. It thrilled me to kiss while another couple was kissing next to us. I secretly imagined Frank was kissing me instead of Jeannie. I felt trashy just for having the thought, but it made me more passionate with Ron. But eventually I had to fend him off and we all had cooled down by the time we headed home.

"We dropped off Ron first, then Frank pulled up at Jeannie's house. I was in the back seat as they kissed good night in front of me. It was a long, twisting kiss. Then I saw Frank's eyes open in the middle of the kiss and he stared at me, through me, for just seconds. Then his eyes closed again and he moved more aggressively into his kiss, moving his body against, and almost on top of Jeannie."

"The porch light at Jeannie's house flashed off and then back on again. 'Shoot, my dad's awake,' groaned Jeannie. She pulled away from Frank and slid across the seat. 'G'night, honey,' she said, blowing him a kiss before she slammed the door."

"'Why don't you come up front,' said Frank. So as he drove off, I just climbed over the back of his bench seat in his old Chevy. He turned just before I got all the way seated, so I tumbled against him and we laughed."

"'You just wanted to feel me up, you creep!' I joked with him, hitting him on the arm."

" 'You wish,' he fired back, jabbing my ribs and getting a giggle."

"'Hey, mister, is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?' I really couldn't see much in the dark, so this was just a joke.

"But I could see Frank turn his head to look at me then, his mouth open slightly, no words escaping his sensuous lips."

Through Julie, I have met Frank, who is Latin, with dark curly hair. He works in construction but is only about 5'8", while I am 6'1" and about 180 pounds. Frank is lean, and a pretty gentle guy, with soft features that attract women because he doesn't look like a predator. Julie spoke a little more urgently now.

"'If you're afraid of the dark,' said Frank, 'you can get out the flashlight.' I was scared now. Scared not of Frank, but of myself, of what I had started, and where it might go. But I would not be the chicken in this game. He'd have to back down before I would. And I knew he would. So I just smiled an.d said 'But officer, that flashlight looks too big for me.' We both knew I was kidding because it was too dark in the car for either of us to see anything. Frank said nothing, and just kept driving. He kept driving, and passed the turn for my house."

"'Where are you going?' I asked."

"'Let's just drive around a little more, okay?' And he smiled at me, a gentle smile, a smile of fun and comfort."

Julie loves to ride. Having a man drive her around seems to enliven her, as though she is a queen with a servant-driver. Maybe her small size, 5'3" and barely over 100 pounds, makes her want to find ways to get men to serve her since they can so easily dominate her physically. But she is so beautiful that men want not to control her but to be her servants. That is how I myself feel. I fuck her, so I dominate in that way, but she always controls when and where. She rebuffs me as often as she accepts me, causing me endless frustration punctuated by glorious sex, always on her terms. But God! How the earth moves when we fuck.

"That missed turn did it for me," whispered Julie over the hum of the engine as we continued through the dry air on Interstate 5. "It was like I was free from the usual rules, away from home. And I started thinking I didn't have to follow anyone else's rules, at least for a little while. I felt a little feral, actually."

Julie said nothing more for awhile. Tense with anticipation, I was about to prompt her when she spoke.

"I touched it. Just reached across the space between us and touched it. With the palm of my left hand."

God, I knew that palm, so soft and gentle, expressive. Her hands are small, even for her small body. I thought of how her small hand made my cock look so big, because it is too thick for her hand to grip it. My cock head protrudes well past her gripping hand. I thought of this intensely now, and wished for her to put her small left hand on my cock, like she was describing doing to Frank. My cock flexed, unwilled by me, reacting to the raw sexual fervor I felt. God, why was I so turned on by this tale of my wife with another man?

"It was hard," Julie whispered. "It stuck across his right leg, pointing directly at me. He said nothing, made not a sound, but it flexed against my palm. With my fingers pointed toward the base, I squeezed a little, my thumb and little finger clenching the shaft. I felt the big tube that ran up the center to the head swell against my thumb, and the head moved against the base of my palm. Still he was silent."

Like Frank, I too was speechless. Though it was untouched by a hand, I felt the large channel in my own penis throb with excitement. She was telling me about the feel of another man's cock, and for some bizarre reason that I still don't understand, I felt no anger. Instead of resenting it, I wanted to hear more. I think my jealousy was channeled entirely to my swollen manhood. I would get even with Frank by exploding my spunk in or on the woman I won, the woman who loves me, not him, the woman whose only interest in him was for raw sex. But I was jealous as well as furiously, teeth-grittingly aroused.

"When my fingers on his penis curled and my nails scraped up his shaft, he groaned like some animal, some wild creature I had never heard before. He arched his hips toward my hand, and I couldn't stifle a giggle. I giggled with pride and power, sensing how helpless this man was now, despite the power of the rod I held in my hand. I knew the swollen bar was meant to enter a woman's body, to please itself and her in that primeval act of procreation, that nature had made so pleasurable."

"You were thinking that?" I asked incredulously. She was embellishing, I thought, just to torment me. Or did she somehow suspect it would turn me on to hear this?

"I wasn't really thinking at all at that point, or if I was, it was just about sex. A small voice inside told me to stop before it was too late, that I needed to obey my parents, to save myself for you, even though I hadn't met you. But the rebel in me wanted to do it because it was wrong. I got a thrill from doing small wrongs, and this seemed like a small wrong. Who would be hurt? I could just help him jack off, like I had with a couple other boys, we'd go home, and never talk of it again. But we'd both remember it forever, so why not?"

"You had other boys jack off in front of you?" I asked, again shocked by this additional revelation. She had always professed a boring, very moral teenage life.

"A few times," she said nonchalantly. "The only difference here was that Frank was Jeannie's boyfriend, but I would never try to steal him. I didn't want him, didn't love him--this was just a little fun, playing, breaking the rules. It was like going on an amusement park ride with him. But I didn't think all this at the time. Then it was just feeling, the freedom to fly, to jump off the high dive. The exhilaration of getting my best friend's boyfriend into my grip for one moment, sharing his moment of ecstasy, feeling the power of this man being in my sole control, having him mentally beg me to pleasure him."

I couldn't take any more. I reached for Julie's wrist and drew her hand to my throbbing member, which, like Frank's, was encased in my jeans and pointing over my hip directly at my blond-haired wife. Passively letting me place her hand on my cock, she still gazed straight ahead. Her hand rested lightly on my jeans, with seeming disinterest.

"After he groaned as my nails scratched up his hard shaft, he quickly pulled over and parked. We were on an unlighted street a couple miles from my home. It was late and quiet."

"As soon as he stopped, he put his right arm around my back and pulled me toward him, locking my mouth in a kiss that seemed almost desperate. At the same time, our tongues danced that teenage dance that is so thrilling, his tongue inside my mouth, mine in his, tangling and twisting, sharing the most innocent of bodily fluids. But little did we realize in our heat that we had broken the barriers that separate all but lovers from one another."

"As soon as we began kissing, I squeezed his hard dick tightly, trying to bend it, twist it, stretch it toward me, push it away. Now I could feel its heat through his jeans, and I noticed the big head, larger than the shaft. When I felt the wet spot in his jeans where his cock head pressed firmly, I thrilled again with my power to elicit love juices from this man."

I glanced and noticed that Julie's right hand languished across her right thigh, near her crotch, and that she was lazily running her fingers along her inner thigh. I doubt that she was even aware she was doing it, so absorbed was she in her reminiscence. I now was driving only with my left hand, and my right wrist rested on the back of my wife's hand, adding a little extra pressure to her hand on my drooling hard cock. I could feel the wetness which spread through my underwear and caused a dark spot on my jeans. But Julie was oblivious.

"As we were kissing, I had wrapped both arms around him. He did the same but had quietly unsnapped my bra without removing my top. I knew exactly what he was doing but didn't try to stop him."

"Then he slipped his left hand under my top, running his warm, rough fingers onto my bare belly."

I lurched at this description. Julie's belly is small, tender and covered with smooth skin and the faintest, invisible layer of blond downy hair. I love to look at it with my head on her belly, and she loves to feel my hand stroke her. My hand, not Frank's. I was watching them now through the car window, conflicted by wanting it to stop but lustily wanting it to continue. My cock was driving my desire now, and nothing would stop my desire to hear the story climb to its climax.

"Uhhhhhh . . .," I groaned as Julie's hand gripped my dick tightly, and gave me just a brief, teasing stroke.

"His hand massaged my belly and side for a moment but I knew what he wanted. I even leaned back just a little to give his hand room to reach higher. In a flash he was under my bra, his left hand gently squeezing my right breast. I heard myself moan as his thumb flicked my nipple, which had hardened to a little finger."

Julie's weakness has always been her nipples. She can orgasm just from nipple play, so I knew that with that one move, Frank had assured himself a satisfying end to the evening. My cock throbbed again.

"Take it out," I pleaded with my wife, as we continued along I-5.

"Not while you're driving," she intoned, firmly.

"Then let's pull over," I answered, upping the ante. I was now so heated in my erotic fantasy world that I just wanted to crash through an orgasm, spurting my seed anywhere I could.

"Not if you ever want to hear the rest," she said with resolve. I knew she wasn't kidding. This was her way of controlling me, sort of getting even with me for all the ways I controlled her.

"Okay, keep going," I said quietly. I raised my hips to push my blood-filled rod against her small hand. Her fingers tickled me just a bit, enough to draw another groan from my throat. I literally felt fluid weep from the swollen tip of my dick, enlarging the wet spot on my underwear and jeans.

"When Frank squeezed my nipple between his thumb and index finger, and twisted gently back and forth, I had a small orgasm. You know how I do that, baby?"

"Oh yes," was all I could say. Yes, I do know.

"I could feel the wetness in my pussy. It turned me on immensely. But I had never gone all the way and didn't want to now. So I slid my right hand inside his shirt, just above his waist.

"His belly was smooth, hairless. It was really firm, with no fat at all. I tweaked his bellybutton just a bit and he chuckled. He squeezed my entire breast and we kissed again. My fingers scratched his belly, which seemed to charge his batteries as he then began to kiss more firmly, and his mouth moved down my neck toward my top, which he was simultaneously lifting up from my waist.

I tensed up more, imagining where this would lead. The steely vigor of my cock pressed against Julie's hand and I groaned when she drew away. Before I could protest, she continued.

"He wrestled my top and bra up over my right breast and impulsively kissed it, first avoiding the erect nipple. With my left hand still on his thing, my right hand snaked onto his head, tangling in his curly, black hair as his plump lips pinched my nipple, and his tongue began strumming it. 'Ahhh--oohhh,' I groaned softly. I think I came again at that point but the whole experience was so erotic that it all blended together in a hot, intense, enveloping frenzy. I was now squeezing and bending his hard tool as hard as I could. I wanted to see if it was stronger than my hand--could I go so far that he'd beg me to stop?

"After he wet my breast with his luscious mouth for a few ecstatic moments, I pushed his head away, and pushed him back.

"'I'm sorry,' he said softly, thinking he had gone too far and the night was over. I ignored him and reached over with my right hand, sliding it onto his bare stomach and under his waistband, under his briefs.

"He leaned back silently, lifting his hips to ease my access. I slid my hand across his hairless skin, probing toward his crotch. By now, his fleshy stalk was pointed straight up toward his belly button, pushing his belt buckle obscenely into the air. Even in the darkness I could see its shadowy firmness. I chuckled inside imagining that happening to him in a classroom sometime, where he'd desperately try to conceal it. Now, however, he was not hiding it. I think he was proud as he clenched his hips, brandishing it like a sword, hoping to command my attention.

"My right hand continued sliding toward his route, and suddenly it met a forest of pubic hair. It seemed like hair enough for his entire body had been crowded around his genitals, so full, soft and tightly curled. My fingers gripped and tugged gently at it. As I moved my hand a little further, my fingertips bumped a fleshy, soft orb. His ball moved on its own against my fingers. I raised my hand enough to reach out to capture the manly egg, and realized that it was very big, seemingly bigger than any I had seen or touched before. Frank groaned mightily as I squeezed gently on his large, soft testicle. I reached further to touch the other, finding that both were much too big for my small hand. Between them, the base of his penis throbbed persistently as my hand passed over it. Frank moaned again and I giggled quietly.

"'You like?'" I asked teasingly. Julie giggled when she repeated this to me.

"'God, yes, Julie. I love you,' moaned Frank. I knew this was passion speaking, that his words were real at the time but temporary, needy and erotic only. I didn't care, because they were a sort of worship of me and the pleasure I was bringing this friend, the sexy mate of my best friend."

I was getting frantic at my wife's tale, at her detail, at her unexpected pleasure in telling me of this liaison with another man, his dick, his balls. How far would this go? In my fantasy I was in the car with them, watching every detail as she spoke her words. I had never been so turned on in my life.

"While my right hand played with his balls, my left went for his belt buckle. I pushed it against his cock head briefly, causing him to gasp quietly. I undid the buckle, and began unbuttoning his 501s. That caused my fingers to rub his cock and he was twisting slightly. I stopped.

"'I need to see to unbutton the rest,' I said, looking up at Frank's face.

"'I can unbutton the rest,' said Frank.

"'No, I want to. Do you have a dome light?"

"Frank reached down and turned on the overhead light, which flashed like the sun in the darkened car. We both laughed in surprise. But then I saw it.

"'Oh, my god,' I said. His cock was beautiful. So hard, almost shiny, so straight, and thin."

I smiled slightly, reassured that my thick cock had an advantage over my competitor Frank.

"Is my cock bigger than his?" I asked.

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