The Good Wife Ch. 02bytazsis1©
[Part of a series of stories about a wife who owns her husband.]
On holiday, my wife always comes alive sexually. Stephanie opens up, seems to find everything and anything sexual, and she becomes very demanding. She rarely puts on underwear on holiday, dresses much more provocatively than normal and expects me to be ready and available for her at all times. But her period came on the day we travelled, resulting in this scene on out first night in Spain.
'Round about midnight, we were reading in our room on the first floor at the back of the villa. It was a hot and humid in the room, so we left the door on to the balcony wide open. Stephanie sleeps in a nightdress while I am always naked; the duvet was discarded at the end of the bed. I was curled up half way down the bed, holding my hand to Stephanie's lower back and pressing gently to ease the ache. We read like this for some time.
Stephanie got off the bed, dug into her bag for her cigarettes and went out onto the balcony. She smokes a little, mainly on holiday. I find her smoking a deeply sexy; her handling of cigarette and lighter, the sharp inhale and the slowly released plume, the hooded eyes and face obscured behind the smoke, the smell in her hair and the taste on her lips or fingers.
She called me out onto the balcony. Stephanie stood against the balcony rail taking in the view. Our room looks out over a garden, onto scrub land and then onto mountains that run from the south coast, West of Marbella, into the Cadiz nature reserve. Even after midnight there was a gray half light in the sky heavy with rain clouds. In the distance, a few cars wound along on the narrow roads, their lights bright against the black of the mountains. They were so far away that no engine noise reached us. A sprinkler in the dark garden hissed. Otherwise there was silence. A chill breeze blew making my nipples hardened and my penis shrivelled.
"Hold me. I'm cold," Stephanie said.
I pressed myself against her, wrapping her in my arms; one angling downwards across her belly onto her hip, the other rising between her breasts to her shoulder. I nestled my penis against her arse and immediately started to harden. We talked about plans for later in the week as Stephanie smoked. I pressed my face into her long neck, breathing her in with the smoke and opening my mouth to kiss and suck gently on the skin. She lightly pushed back at me, swaying her arse.
After a while, Stephanie half turned out of my arms, passing me the still smoking cigarette end to dispose of.
"And get the jelly."
When I came back out onto the balcony, she said: "Bend over the rail and stick your arse out."
I got in position. The click of the bottle top; the slurp of jelly squeezed out; cold wet fingers against my arsehole; a finger forced inside me roughly, pressing deep and then another, and a third. The first intrusion always hurts a little.
Stephanie's hand came round me and pinched hard on a brittle nipple.
"Stoke yourself slowly."
She pressed me forward against the railing, grazing my erection against the rough metal. I reached over the rail. I tried to take it slowly, but too, too soon I was close.
"Hands on the rail! Don't come!"
I stopped wanking. My little penis twitched in the cool air as I struggled to hold back. Stephanie pushed her fingers in and out of me, fucking me hard. I arched my back to her, giving myself to the slap, slap, slap, slap of her wet fingers driving in and out of me. I shut my eyes and my head dropped. I grunted and sighed and panted. Suddenly Stephanie's hand stopped, she changed the angle of her fingers inside me and pressed down on my prostate. My cock jumped three, four times as a strangled orgasm clenched at my insides. I wailed softly and panted as streams of ejaculate poured slowly from the tip of my cock onto the bougainvillea bush bellow.
"Good boy," she said. "That should help you sleep soundly."