New Lives for Amy & Me

For a very long time, we lay there bare skin to bare skin feeling each other's breathing.

"He told me how I'm supposed to dress today," she said just as I was thinking about falling back to sleep.

"What?"

"He told me how to dress," she repeated. Why would he do that? My mind switched from nearly off to considerations of what her statement meant.

"How to dress? At home? Why?"

"I don't know for sure." Neither of us are stupid and both of us knew what it probably meant.

"What? What did he say?"

"Shorts. Half tee or halter top. Nothing else."

"You think he's coming here," I stated the obvious. She nodded against me. "When?" She shrugged. Any time he wanted to, I thought with more than a little resentment.

What would I do about it? Would I tell him to get out? Would I quit my job? Would I ... no he is so much bigger than me I wouldn't take him on.

"What should I do?" It was my turn to shrug.

"What do you want to do?" She thought for a long time before answering.

"What you want me to do." I sighed. "Okay," she continued. Strangely, I hadn't answered her with either words or body language. But, I realized, I'd just gotten a raging hard-on that she had felt and understood better than I did.

While I tried to decide if that was really what I meant, she got up and went in to take a shower. My mind was a complete turmoil as she came back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her breasts to leave me glimpses of her bottom and pussy through the opening as she looked through her drawers. Rather than make her uncomfortable staring, I went and took my own shower before returning to the bedroom to get into a pair of lightweight pants and a teeshirt.

In the kitchen, I sat down to coffee as I watched Amy cook some eggs. I couldn't help but think that the extremely tiny white shorts - low on her hips and very high on the legs - and equally tiny white halter top that covered almost nothing made up one of the sexiest outfits I've ever seen her wear and one she'd never worn for me. Both the shorts and top were filmy enough that I knew I could see panties or bra through them if she'd been wearing either. She obviously wasn't.

Finished with breakfast, we had the day to deal with. It was not an easy day.

I tried to read. She vacuumed and cleaned toilets. I helped her with dishes and making the bed. We kissed and held each other a few times. We tried watching a movie. Lunch came and went. Another movie that neither of us would have been able to tell anyone about. But mostly, far far too much thinking.

Were we looking forward to something happening? Honestly, I don't know. I thought about suggesting we just forget about it. Whatever IT might be. Go to the mall or a movie. God! Something besides just sitting and thinking.

I had actually gotten to my feet, ready to suggest doing something, when the doorbell rang. I felt all the blood in my body drain out, almost falling over. I didn't move as Amy got to her feet and went to the door.

***

I saw his head above hers, smiling down at her, as she opened the door. Then he was looking at me with that same self-satisfied smile he'd had on his face the last night as he played with my wife. He leaned down and kissed Amy on the lips with his big hands clasping her bare midriff.

Wondering what I was welcoming him to, I tried to be a good host - smiling, shaking quickly, and offering a beer which was the only alcoholic thing I had in the apartment. Louder than me, he thanked me but didn't want anything. His comment then made me very nervous.

"Hey, you're giving me enough, you know," he said with a chuckle as he put his arm around Amy's back and guided her to the second-hand couch to sit beside him. The couch, or any couch for that matter, was too deep for Amy's short legs. She preferred to sit in the much smaller rocking chair near my used recliner. When she did sit on a couch, she had a choice between having her legs stick straight out, lounging in a corner with her legs up on the couch, or curling her legs up beside herself. She curled her legs up on the other side of her.

"I didn't know whether you'd want to be here or not," he said enigmatically. If I'd been concerned before, now I was scared of what I'd let us in for. "If you want to go out for a couple hours, I'll understand. But it's your home and I'll understand."

I should have had the guts to just ask him what he meant and why he was here at all but I didn't.

You'll say that I should have known exactly what was going on and maybe I did. I'm really not totally stupid. And you'll have to say that I shouldn't have even considered allowing it, whatever it was. I'd like to plead that I didn't know what was going on but I can't. I'd like to plead that I was in no position to do something about it but, of course, that's not true. He'd done things to my wife at a party where all of us were more than a little drunk. An excuse of sorts for what had already happened. But this was much different and he knew it as he smiled at me across the room and stroked his hand up and down my wife's thigh.

The look on her face was indecipherable as she looked back at me, her arms crossed under her breasts. Her look didn't ask me for help but it also didn't say she was enjoying what I'm sure she knew could happen.

Whatever chance I had to stop things immediately disappeared as his smile broadened as he looked at me. He nodded and turned to Amy, who looked up at him.

"I'm glad to see you dressed the way I told you to." He smiled and looked down at the halter top and shorts with the wide stretches of skin they exposed. "Relax, honey. You really are going to enjoy this." I realized that my hands were gripping the arms of my chair as if I were on a roller coaster and hanging on for my life.

It seemed impossible when his big hand went to her bare stomach and softly caressed. She stiffened and held her breath as she looked down at his hand. His other hand moved up to lift her chin toward him. Again she stiffened and moved a little away but his lips still covered her mouth.

For a moment, she could have been a statue for all the reaction she showed, her eyes open, her body stiff, her free arm laying on the couch at her side. Maybe her eyes flickered toward me. But then she visibly relaxed, let her head bend back slightly, closed her eyes, moved her hand up to his powerfully displayed biceps below the casual teeshirt, and opened her mouth to take his tongue into it. She didn't react when his hand moved up onto the front of her halter top to cover her breast.

I felt myself get hard and took the opportunity to straighten myself as I hadn't been able to do in the more public situation the night before. Even though they weren't paying any attention to me, I hoped neither of them saw me do it. It felt to me that I was stamping my okay on what was happening between my boss and my wife.

For what seemed like hours, I watched Russ kiss her and manipulate her breast. Except for his hand and their lips, the tableau was frozen. In fact, it may have been five minutes or half an hour that he kissed her but I think somewhere near the middle of that time span. It did give me time to thoroughly see her enjoying the kiss, her toes splaying wide as her mouth moved on his. And I saw him get hard in his tan shorts, his heavy legs spread slightly. And I understood completely now what was going to happen and how fast the situation was slipping past my control.

Almost nothing changed as he untied the double knot of the halter top between her breasts and brushed the white material to the side to fully expose her to my view. His hand returned to her breast but, after softly massaging the flesh for a moment, his finger and thumb went to her hard, perky nipple to pull gently, release like it was made of rubber, and pull again over and over. More of her body became involved in his manipulation then, the muscles of her bare stomach squirming and her legs moving rhythmically.

He switched back and forth from one nipple to the other with his manipulations and I began to breath much harder as I watched her reacting more to it as well. Knowing how sensitive her nipples are made me understand her enjoyment of what he was doing to her.

She was breathing hard and totally unconcerned about me when he turned her sideways across his lap. He didn't hesitate to cover her hard, upturned nipple with his lips as he looked up at me. Her head rested on his forearm turned upward allowing her to open her mouth for more air as he sucked the tender, sensitive bud. Strangely, I thought it looked very loving as her legs squirmed, opening and closing, stretched out on the couch.

He never slowed his ministrations to her nipple and she didn't really change much in her position as he found the short zipper at the side of her tiny shorts and moved it down. His eyes twinkled as he looked at me. She gasped as his hand went into the waistband at the front of the shorts to stroke her tummy - another of her very sensitive spots. It was like he'd been in our bed watching me find what she liked the most.

She gasped again as his teeth closed on her nipple to pull upward before releasing it again to rubber band back before he attacked it the same way again. Her legs spread slightly and her hand went to the front of her shorts as his hand moved down further inside. I saw the second his finger found the sensitive trench above her pussy both by the bulge at the front of the shorts and her arched reaction to his touch.

She squirmed and squealed as his hand dove further down, sliding a finger into her as his lips covered her areola so his tongue could flick at the nipple inside his mouth. Her entire body squirmed to the twin touches on her most sensitive parts. I couldn't help smiling with her pleasure and, of course, he chose that second to look up at me again to catch the smile.

He didn't stop sucking her nipple as he removed his hand from the tiny white shorts and moved her legs together before catching the waistband at one side, inching them down, moving to the other hip, inching down, back, inching. She lifted slightly and he moved the shorts down below her bottom. Only a couple of more tugs took them to her knees. Without her top half reacting, she lifted her knees so he could push the shorts down and off one ankle.

He lifted one of her knees so I could clearly see her moist pubic hair almost as well as he could. Very carefully, he moved his hand so I could see his thick finger slide into her pussy without blocking the view in the least with his palm. In long, slow stokes, he moved the finger from the opening until his hand contacted her pubis hard, out and then all the way back in. Her hips rocked up to meet his finger and jerkily back down away from it over and over.

He broke the pattern after a few minutes to join his index finger to the longer middle finger and again stroke slowly in and out of her body. She moaned with the feelings it imparted. Her legs spread wider to give him better access, her hand on her thigh.

Again, his attentions to her pussy lasted for a long time though I could never have estimated how long that might have been before the soaking wet fingers left her body and moved up to bracket her clitoris. Her entire body curled for a long few seconds as his fingers rubbed quickly across her clit before returning for another copious load of her pussy's lubricating fluids.

The third time he did that, she squealed loudly, curled, and very obviously orgasmed.

***

Amy lay fully exposed with her legs splayed in a most unladylike way, her eyes closed, as he looked up at me then. Obviously, he was totally relaxed and in command of the situation as one arm cradled her and the other hand lay big and open on her stomach.

"You know, from the looks of you two, I was a little concerned that Amy might not know a thing about what pleases a woman most," he said pedantically. "I'm glad to see though that she knows exactly what pleases her. It shows you know what you're doing."

Now how bazaar could it possibly be that I was sitting in my favorite chair watching while my boss of one week fingered my wife to what had looked like a magnificent orgasm and feeling complimented that he thought I'd done well with her. I couldn't help the smile I flashed back at him, pleased out of proportion that he approved. Out of proportion? Christ! I should have been enraged! He had just stripped my wife naked right in front of me and sucked and fingered parts of her body that no one but a husband should ever suck or touch. Should even ever see!

"It's also pretty obvious that you've done this to her before," he continued. Yes, I thought, as I nodded. I'd sucked her nipples often because she liked it so much. I'd had my fingers in her pussy, too. I'd even rubbed a finger on her clit to make her orgasm. But I'd never wet my fingers in her as he had, my fingers much smaller than his anyway, and I'd never used her natural lubrication the way he had to stimulate her. And, whether it was the perspective from across the room as I was or not, I'd never had the opportunity to watch her have an orgasm like the one I'd just seen. I'd also never seen her so totally out of it as she seemed then in his arms either.

"At any rate," he continued casually, "I guess we're going to have to work a little to find something brand new."

That statement made two things obvious: It wasn't over yet as I'd rather hoped and he might stay until he'd found something obviously "brand new" to do to her. It disconcerted me a lot when he spoke as if he'd read my mind.

"Oh yeah. We're going to do some new things for sure." I took a deep, shuddering breath that made me realize that I had actually been holding my breath.

***

"Hey, you know what? I need to see something," he said, still talking just to me. I wondered if Amy was asleep. She wasn't moving except for her steady, slow breathing. I waited for what he was going to say with more than just slight worry. I chewed on my lower lip. "Stand up."

There's something about sitting in your own living room and watching the things I'd watched in the last few minutes. But it was passive. It was just ... well, sitting and watching. Standing up was active and, as I sat forward and stood, it made me a great deal more uncomfortable than I had been before. Somehow, now I was participating and I didn't like it. It made me more of a collaborator in what he was doing. I didn't like it at all and my frown probably relayed that to him, though, as he motioned for me to turn in place, it didn't seem to have an affect on him. I turned.

"What? 135? 140?" Though he'd overestimated my weight, I nodded. "Gotcha by about eighty ninety pounds. 5-6 maybe?" I nodded again. "And about 10 inches."

I should have just sat down then but waited for some reason.

"Drop your pants," he said and I just stared at him with disbelief. This was way beyond what I'd felt standing up. This was a personal invasion. "I need to see something. Just do it, okay?"

I've been to doctors, of course, and forced to take my clothes off for examinations. A couple of times, I've gotten undressed in front of Amy, though more frequently in the dark, and then not feeling very comfortable. In PE classes in school, I'd never been naked in a locker room at all, preferring to stay in my underwear and ignore showering. I'd purposely never taken a swimming class where I'd have to get into swimming trunks.

"What?" I asked, hoping he'd change his mind or that I'd misheard him.

"Just drop your pants for a second. Pants and underwear." I had heard him right and didn't know how to get out of it.

My heart beating like a jackhammer, I slowly undid my belt and zipper before blushingly looking at him and pushing my pants and underwear down onto my thighs. I couldn't look at him, knowing that he was probably smiling, at least, and maybe trying to stifle laughter. I couldn't stand that.

The combination of time, the complicity of standing up, and the embarrassment of taking my pants down had conspired to make me as soft as I ever get. At least he didn't laugh out loud.

"Can you make it hard?" he asked as I felt my balls trying to crawl up inside me in the cool room air.

"No," I got out through clenched teeth. There was absolutely no way.

"Go ahead and sit down but why don't you keep your pants down? Maybe take them off, huh?" I couldn't believe what he said but sidled back into my chair with them still around my thighs. "So you're about five inches? Does the head get real fat?"

I nodded but, depending on his measurements and description of "fat", I doubted it. I hadn't measured myself since I was an early teen but I only hoped that I was 5 inches and the head of it WAS bigger, when I was hard, than the shaft below. So maybe it was right.

I watched him lift Amy up to a sitting position, her eyes opening but fuzzy looking. She closed her legs quickly and twisted in place to sit back as she had been before he put her across his lap and took her clothes off. She made no attempt to refasten her halter top that hung on the outsides of her breasts. Actually, she looked too tired and spent to care. Her head even went back to rest against the couch back.

She didn't watch as he undid his shorts and lifted his bottom to push them down his legs. He lifted a sneaker and pushed it off before taking the shorts off that foot. He did the same with the other shoe and foot. Though I thought I shouldn't be looking, I saw a dark mass between his very hairy thighs.

"Amy," he said softly. "Have you been with a lot of guys?" She shook her head. She'd told me she had a boyfriend in high school who had played with her bare breasts and rubbed her through her panties. "Anybody else?"

"No," she mumbled so softly I almost couldn't hear her, though I could read her lips.

"Okay. Then we definitely have something new for you." She still wasn't really reacting.

***

"I want you to watch, honey," he said as he spread his heavy thighs and put his hand around his cock to lift it. Loose and soft, I still saw the head of it at the top of his hand as he wrapped it around it. But what caught my immediate attention was his dark skinned scrotum below his hand, filled what looked painfully with testicles the size of walnuts that pulled the loose skin all the way to the surface of the couch. I thought they must hold a quart of cum.

Amy lifted her head to stare down between his legs after following his eyes that direction. She blinked as we all watched him stroke his cock, really coming fully awake for the first time since he'd sat her back up.

Uncircumcised, as I am, his hand slid skin up to cover the tip of it and down to expose the redder skin. He obviously wasn't completely hard yet and was still longer than his hand could cover. His thumb only overlapped his fingers slightly.

Given the freedom to watch what I wanted by both their inattention, I saw Amy's eyes open further with some more quick blinks. Then her mouth opened with what I thought was probably amazement. Looking at his hand again, I could see that at least a third of his cock was above his hand as he stroked it.

"What do you think?" he said softly, taking the massive organ between thumb and finger near his hair covered body to show it off to my wife.

I have no way to measure how long he was. Long, for sure. The shaft at his body was, I thought, somewhere near 2 inches across and seemed to thicken a little up to a point perhaps an inch below the much redder head where it became quite a bit smaller. The head was, if possible, wider than the widest part of his shaft with a flare that reminded me a little of one of those German World War II helmets. But the head wasn't rounded, like those helmets, but shaped like a cone to a point. I could see the hole at the summit easily from across the room. Strangely, I thought, the whole thing seemed to curve considerably from base to head so, though he held it up straight, the head pointed toward his face. Amy was staring with her eyes and mouth open.