My Wife's Gentlemen Callers

She rang off and returned, still feigning tipsiness, to the table. I moved back to the bar but my place had been usurped by another patron. So I walked over to within a few feet of Nancy's table and pretended to be interested in some wall posters. I couldn't hear everything they were saying, but the two guys were obviously trying to talk Nancy into having yet another glass of wine. She declined the drink, complaining of a head-ache. Then I overheard her going into her routine.

She told them that the call was bad news. She was stranded. Her back was to me, but I noticed that the man sitting next to her was again getting a nice view up her dress. She had scooted her chair back from the table slightly and sat facing him with the heels of her boots hooked behind the chair's front cross member. Her knees were raised now and spread about six inches apart. She pretended, of course, to be unaware of how much she was showing. As the man spoke with her, I noticed his eyes darting down repeatedly to her crotch.

I wondered exactly how much he could see. The way she was sitting, certainly her pubic hair and possibly the lips of her cunt. I wondered if they were still swollen from my having eaten her to orgasm a few hours earlier. And was exposing herself like this getting her even wetter? I noticed the man's pudgy friend sitting opposite Nancy leaning to his left to sneak a look, too, but I don't think he was successful.

As I stood there watching Nancy giving this Canadian academic a prolonged view up her dress, my cock began to stiffen uncomfortably in my briefs. The urge to stroke it was strong and I had to remind myself that I was in a public place. If things worked out right, I told myself, I'd be treated to something far hornier than this in a short while. I could wait to jack off in the closet watching Nancy and whomever through my peephole.

Afraid my eavesdropping might be getting obvious, I wandered back toward the bar. A few minutes later, Nancy and her two companions stood up and made ready to leave. The good-looking one helped her on with her coat. Then the three of them headed down the stairs, on their way, no doubt, to a rental car.

I followed them out and ran the several blocks to where I'd parked our car and headed home. On the way, though, I stopped at a convenience store to buy another six-pack of beer in case her co-star was especially thirsty.

Waiting at Home

Back at the apartment – it was now about 11:30 – I put the beer in the fridge and made things ready. First, I got entirely naked. Why not? I'd be in the closet when Nancy arrived with whomever. It's not like I was going to socialize. Second, I checked out the digital camera to make sure it was ready to use and placed it on the kitchen table. Third, I put a piss-jar and some paper towels to cum on in the closet. No use making a mess. Then, getting more and more excited about what might happen soon, I puttered around nervously for maybe twenty minutes. I fooled with pillows on the couch and watered several house plants.

I turned off all the lights then and, pacing around the apartment, mulled over what might transpire. Maybe, despite their obvious interest in Nancy, her new friends were devoted married men who would drive a lady in distress safely home and nobly not attempt to take advantage of her. On the other hand, I knew that academics tend to be a randy bunch not always constrained by conventional morality. Especially when they were out of town.

I figured there was about a seventy-five percent chance my beautiful wife would soon bring something Canadian and male home with her.

We don't have a window looking out on the street, so I stopped pacing around and sat on the couch to listen for her arrival. It was past midnight and I was just starting to worry a little when I heard voices and footfalls down the corridor. Then, closer to our door, I heard Nancy laughing and a low male voice. Bingo! Let the show begin!

I ran to the closet and shut myself in.

Gentlemen Callers from the North

Seconds later, I heard Nancy turning the key in the latch and watched through the peephole as she pushed the door open. Actually, she fiddled with the key in the latch for several seconds to give me a clear warning. It was unnecessary, but I appreciated the thought. I watched her enter and switch on a small ceiling light just inside the front door. Both guys were with her! They followed her in and the paunchy one closed the door behind them. He held a tall thin bag in his hands obviously containing a bottle of wine. He set it down on the kitchen table.

Nancy then went over to the couch and turned on the lamps at either end of it. (That's right, my darling exhibitionist, light the whole area like a stage). Inviting her guests to sit down on the couch and make themselves comfortable (they had already taken off their light jackets), she walked past them to the coat hooks by the door and removed and hung up her coat. She then removed her purse and cell phone from the coat pockets and laid them down on the kitchen table next to the digital camera and bottle of wine. Finally, looking delicious in her short blue dress, she walked across the living room to the sound system and, using the remote, turned on the DVD player. The guys, now seated on the couch, watched her ravenously as she performed these simple acts.

The guys spoke quietly to one another in French (which I can understand somewhat and Nancy not at all). It was probably something between lewd and appreciative.

"I've got to go to the bathroom," Nancy announced. "Why don't you open up the wine, Armand? I forget which drawer the corkscrew is in, but look around till you find it. And there's beer in the fridge, I think." As she headed for the bathroom, the paunchy guy (evidently Armand) stood up and made for the kitchen. The better looking guy, still seated, stared as though hypnotized at my wife's ass as she walked away from him.

As she passed the closet door, Nancy did something quite devilish. She rapped on the door with her knuckles as though accidentally. It was an I-know-you're-in-there rap that caught me completely off-guard and caused a panicky, though momentary, chill to run up my spine. I'd get her for that later!

While Nancy was in the bathroom, the better-looking guy joined his friend in the kitchen to look for wine glasses, a corkscrew, and beer. He returned to the living room with a beer in his hand; he then walked leisurely around the living room checking out pictures and books in a small shelf near the sound system (where, at low volume, an Alanis Morisette CD was playing). As I held my breath, he paused to look at the paintings hanging on either side of my peephole. But he soon passed by without noticing anything untoward. Meanwhile, I could hear Armand in the kitchen uncorking the bottle of wine. A few minutes later he returned to the living room with the open bottle and two wine glasses, which he set on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sat down on the couch again, as did his friend, just as Nancy returned from the bathroom.

Armand, pouring himself a glass of wine, asked her if he could pour her one too. She said yes and, wine glass in hand, sat down on the carpet in front of the coffee table. Her knees were drawn up so her creamy thighs were completely exposed, but her body was turned sideways to the two men. This probably disappointed them (since they knew she wasn't wearing panties), but they were willing to bide their time.

They chatted about a variety of things for maybe fifteen minutes. Finally, I heard Armand ask, "What did you mean in the car, Nancy, by photos of you in compromising positions? Did you mean nude photos or what?"

"Well, maybe," Nancy answered. "I guess they could be at least partially nude. I'm not at all shy about my body. I've even done nude modeling before. But what I was thinking of were photos I could show my jerk of a husband that would show me in a somewhat sexual way with another man."

"But you said there must be limits, right?" This came from Better-looking-guy, who had a definite French accent. He pronounced "limits" as "leemeedz." This had to be the accent that Nancy said turned her on so much.

Nancy nodded her head. "Right. As I said before, I'm not willing to have intercourse with anyone but Cal just yet. But I don't mind a little fooling around. I definitely don't want some guy's penis inside me, though. Aside from that, almost anything that's not totally weird might go."

"Martin is a real show-off," said Armand. "I'm sure he'll pose with you."

Martin (so that was his name) laughed and said something to Armand in French that I couldn't catch. Then he spoke to Nancy in rather stilted English, "Of course, I would like to help. But I cannot let you show my face because I don't want anything my wife can ever use against me. We're not having a good marriage now as it is."

Nancy stood up and walked over to the kitchen table. She picked up the camera and carried it back to her companions. "The good thing about digital is we can delete anything too revealing," she explained. "Besides, there won't be any public use made of the photos. I would never let that happen. It would be way too embarrassing to me."

Armand checked out the camera and said, "I have one very similar to this. Maybe I can be the cameraman." He drained his glass of wine and stood up. "What shall we do first?"

Nancy seemed eager to get things going. "Let's start with a tame one of me on the couch with Martin, OK?" As Armand, camera in hand, walked around the coffee table and knelt down with the camera, she took his place next to Martin on the couch.

Martin Helps Out

"You're the photographer, Armand, so go ahead and pose us any way you think looks compromising or sexy," said Nancy. Martin grinned self-consciously at his friend with the camera. The first shot Armand took was of Martin with his left arm around Nancy's shoulders and his hand resting loosely against her left breast. Nancy smiled into the camera and nestled her head against his chest. Though nothing much had happened yet, I began stroking my cock, which had already become fully hard.

"Maybe you can kiss now," said Armand.

Nancy raised her face to Martin and he gave her a long, deep kiss. It must have lasted ten seconds. I noticed that as they kissed Martin's large hand was fondling my wife's left breast and that her hand was resting high up on his thigh.

When they broke the kiss, Nancy gave a little gasp and said, "Oh, my!" It was an odd, though very sexy, thing for her say. She sounded just like Susan Sarandan in Bull Durham.

Armand, getting into the role of director, made another suggestion: "Would it be OK if Martin unzipped your dress?" (Good idea, Armand! I thought to myself.) Without answering, Nancy turned her back to Martin. I watched his large, hairy hands rather clumsily unzip the dress starting at the neck and ending below where her bra would've been if she'd been wearing one. Damn! I was getting excited watching this. I had to stop stroking my dick to keep from cumming way too soon.

Nancy then turned back around facing Martin and raised her face to him for another lingering kiss. It was a very wet one and I could hear both Martin and my wife making little noises indicating that, despite this being something merely staged, both of them were getting turned on. Her dress had begun to fall off her left shoulder. Martin broke off the kiss and asked her for permission to go further. She nodded that it would be OK, so using his right hand, he pulled the top of the dress down low enough to fully expose her left breast, the breast he'd just been feeling up through the thin blue fabric. The nipple was very erect and slightly darker than the surrounding light pink areola. "That's beautiful, very beautiful," he said, taking her bare breast in his hand and gently manipulating it. Armand took several photos of Martin thoroughly manhandling my wife's perfect breast. Then they resumed kissing. After almost a minute of kissing and breast caressing, Martin pinched her nipple between his fingers and she gasped.

"Oh, God, that feels good! It goes all the way down my body when you do that," said Nancy. "But this is sort of awkward. Would you mind if we moved down to the floor?"

From Couch to Carpet

My wife stood up rather unsteadily (accidentally flashing her cunt at Armand and me as she did) and pulled the top of her dress back over her left shoulder. Then she walked around the coffee table and sat down on the carpet where Armand had been taking photos. Still kneeling, the pudgy Canadian had moved farther back toward the peephole, so he was just beneath me. Sitting on the floor, Nancy began removing her boots. She sat facing Armand and me and (adorable girl!) made absolutely no effort at modesty as she slowly removed first one then the other boot. Several times, her naked cunt came fully into view. I noticed that Armand snapped a quick shot of what he'd been unable to see earlier in the bar.

Martin, meanwhile, had stood up and was walking back into the kitchen. I noticed he already had a hard-on. It made the front of his loose trousers jut way out. He must've been wearing boxer shorts; briefs would've held his cock in more. I heard him open the refrigerator, take out another beer, and open it. Then he returned to the living room and stood aimlessly near where Nancy sat, now bootless and with her bare legs drawn up more modestly under her arms.

"Maybe you can get us some pillows from over there, Martin," she said, looking over at the couch.

"Anything to please Madame," he said. He picked up two throw pillows and laid them down on the floor near Nancy. His hard-on was still quite apparent, but he seemed not to care if it showed. He then knelt down next to my wife and smiled broadly at Armand. "What's next?" he asked.

"How about lying down next to her and kissing her? Those'll make pretty sexy shots, I think."

"Sounds good to me," said Nancy. She was on her knees with her ass aimed in my direction arranging the pillows side by side. Her dress, completely unzipped, was falling off her upper body anyway, so Martin reached across her shoulders and, using both hands, pulled the top of it down so that it fell loosely around her waist. She offered no resistance. Now topless, and in fact virtually naked except for her dress hanging from her midsection and barely covering her ass, she rolled over on her back and smiled up at her stiff-dicked friend.

She was flat on her back, naked all the way down past her navel, and the front hem of her dress just barely covered her cunt. Her breasts, with their excited little nipples, flattened out somewhat (they're real, not plastic), and they were not long without Martin's attention.

He lay down next to her on his left side and immediately began kissing the side of her face and exploring her breasts with his right hand. He was very thorough as he caressed each breast and gently pinched and tugged at each nipple.

Armand was starting to really get into it. "That's right, Martin," he said. "Go slower, though, so I can get more shots of what you're doing to her tits. Keep pinching her nipples like that. There's a great shot. You can see she likes it. Her nipples are getting harder and harder. Do you like that, Nancy?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she moaned, rolled her head back, and closed her eyes. After at least a minute of feeling her up like this, Martin slid down my wife's body until he was in a position to use his mouth on her breasts. He started with Nancy's right breast, sucking and kissing it while he held her left breast in his hand. His head blocked my view of what he was doing, but from my angle I could see his jaw muscles working. Whatever he was doing with his mouth, Nancy was clearly loving it and was actually arching her back to push her breasts against his mouth and hand. Then he got up on his knees so he could lean across her body to kiss and suck her left breast. He spent at least thirty seconds doing this, but his head again blocked my view.

As he slowly and deliberately enjoyed my wife's breasts, she had her arms above her head and, still arching her back, rolled her head back and forth with pleasure. And these exertions of her upper body had a very happy effect on the bottom of her dress. Her cunt, though Martin was probably too busy to notice, was now fully exposed to Armand and me. Since her knees were raised and her feet were about two feet apart, we had a great view of her moist, slightly separated cunt lips glistening beneath a whispy swatch of cunt hair. I noticed that Armand stopped focusing on Martin kissing Nancy's breasts and was kneeling to get lower-angle shots of her crotch.

I suppose it was inevitable, but Martin was not content merely to suck, pinch, and squeeze my wife's breasts. For in the next minute or so he abandoned her breasts, raised himself to his knees, and slowly brought his right hand down over her belly and to her mons pubis. At first, he let his fingers play gently in her silky cunt hair. Nancy raised her head to watch what he was doing and said some rather confused things, "Oh, yes, take a photo of this. But don't touch me down there yet, please. It feels so good. If you touch me down there, though, you'll make me cum."

"Is that bad?" asked Martin. He ignored her plea and moved his hand "down there" so that it completely covered her crotch area from cunt hair to asshole. He then gently rubbed his flattened hand up and down, and Nancy, who was involuntarily thrusting her pelvis up against his hand, began whimpering and gasping. She seemed to be building already to a climax. But, helpless as she seemed, she surprised me by reaching her right hand out and touching, or at least trying to touch (the angle was awkward since he was bending forward), Martin's cock.

Then, suddenly, she reached forward with both hands and removed Martin's hand from her cunt. Breathing hard and smiling at him to show she wasn't angry, she sat up and said, "Oh, Martin, that's feels wonderful, but we need some different shots. Would you take your pants off and let me see your hard cock? I'd like to play with it for a while and we could get really compromising photos, right, Armand?"

"Definitely," said Armand.

Nancy Enjoys a Really Big One

Martin stood up, undid his belt, unzipped his fly, and let his trousers drop to the floor. He then stepped out of them. Next he pulled down his boxer shorts and released his cock. Damn! It was certainly one to be proud of! It stood out aggressively purple and veiny at somewhere between the two and three o'clock position. It was not quite as large as Nick's cock (the one Nancy was videotaped with in Colorado), but it was at least as thick. And, of course, it was significantly larger than mine.

Nancy sat staring at the rather ugly hard-on for several seconds then knee-walked over and seized it with both hands. "Oh, God, that's quite a large one! Take some shots of me touching it, Armand, would you?"

But Armand had anticipated her request and was already snapping picture after picture of Nancy stroking and rubbing her face against Martin's cock.

"Would you suck it, please" asked Martin. "You know that would be a very good photograph for your husband."

"Why don't you lie down again and we'll see," she said. So far, Nancy had only stroked the shaft of Martin's dick and rubbed the end of it against her cheeks and mouth. Would she take the next step? In the closet, I was very close to cumming already, and I knew if I saw her actually take that huge purple cock in her mouth I wouldn't be able to hold back.

Martin lay back, wearing only his socks and a short-sleeved shirt, with his hands behind his neck. His erection hovered over his belly at a slight rightward angle; I was surprised at how large and hairy his balls were. Out of consideration for me, Nancy tugged at his body slightly until Martin moved sideways a few inches until his feet were aimed directly at my peephole (something I'm glad he didn't ask her to explain), then knelt beside him (from my angle, to the right side of him). She flashed a smile at my peephole, then gripped the thick shaft of his cock in her right hand and began jacking him off. She caressed his balls with her left hand. She kept this up for well over a minute, as the lucky Canadian anthropologist groaned with appreciation. "How do you like that?" she asked him.