Wife Pt. II
by Jon Ridge ©
I stand up, and walk over to the stereo. "Music, um.."
.. um... where was I? Come on, Jaye, watch the ADD.
"What do you like?"
"Anything," she replies, and gets up, too. Walks up behind me. The CD changer in our Kenwood holds 30, or more. Michael arranged them in his spare time, but beats me whether he did so by artist, title, or what. Not sure if I even know how to work the thing; or, if it's Lisa's hand on my thigh, again, that has me scatter-brain. Press play. No, it's stop. No, pause. Damn, it's tough to see the buttons, in this light. Of course, the hand working its way between my legs is not conducive to my concentrating on anything aside from the burning I feel where the hand is. Shit - right arrow, left arrow - fader - shuffle - ANYthing.
"My Own Worst Enemy" cranks out. Stop. Something a tad mellower, please. "Hooverphonic", by 2Wicky, is next.
Lisa is all about caressing and fondling, when I turn around, and I have to cool her advances. I walk back over to the bed, and lay down, and don't bother with an explanation. She goes over to the camera, and I see a little red light which I take to mean we're filming. She joins me on the bed. We lay side by side, music filling up the room and our ears, content to just be. She wants more, though, as do I. But, to start fucking her in any way, without my husband in attendance, would be cheating. Get home, Michael; I am dying.
She props up on her side, facing me. Her hand on my thigh, favorite place, creeping underneath my Old Navy t-shirt, tickling my midriff. I take her hand, bring it to my mouth and lick her fingers; let her know, indeed, that I want this to happen, and it will. Just wait. She pulls her hand away, and puts the same fingers in her mouth. Christ, how sensual. Making it another... what's it, fourty minutes and counting, will be difficult. Should've masturbated, before she came. What's the policy for arriving to work drunk, I wonder? The consequences, I mean, if there are any. Terree, the manager, is pretty laid back from what I've observed, but maybe there's a line with her; cross it (i.e. showing up inebriated, or any condition that hinders your performance), and it's pink slip city.
Root out the bad element; a hundred new girls are lined up to work there, week in and out, because it's a classy establishment; classier than that Wild.. something or another, on Broadway. Or, Junior's - a total misogynistic wet-dream, run by guys who borderline demand their girls to fuck the clientele, if the price is high enough, and respect shown the staff is little to non-existent; yes, I applied there, once, and damn near attacked the manager Bruce Evans, Jr., (see where the joint's title comes from? Wonder how long it took the putz to think up that one!) for calling me a temperamental bitch for my unwillingness to perform actual fellatio on stage. That's a time and place type thing, you know. I'm less against simulation (imagination has to play a part: leave something to it, or count me out) in front of the audience. I mean --
She unbuttons my jeans. Down goes the zipper. Is that the best perspective for her mini-cam, over there instead of on the nightstand to the right of the bed, over here? Should I tell her, or --
She starts to move her hand inside, when I stop her, again. Reach over, grab the phone, dial Michael.
"Mullins Publishing. Michael Binsulot speaking," he answers.
"Honey," I begin, relatively impatient.
"Yeah, sweety, what's up?"
"Any chance of you leaving, early, today?"
"Why, what's wrong?"
"Um. Nothing. Nothing's wrong," spacing my words, trying to think of a way to put this. "But, I need you here." Lisa gets closer, her mouth at my free ear, whispers something indiscernibly soft, her breath warm. "Right now."
"I can't just take off. They don't really let us leave except in case of an emergency."
"This _is_ an emergency. I need you to be here, more than they need you answering phones another half hour, trust me. Just tell them, family crisis."
"Are you feeling ok?" How can he not get this?
"Yes, I'm fine. But, we have company, and -"
"Oh. Lisa, right," he says, voice lowered.
"Yes, Lisa is here."
She takes the phone from me. "Hi, Michael. I'm Lisa... hangin' out... wish you were here. Your wife is showing remarkable restraint, what with how horny we are, and all... if you were here, right now, I'd make her watch, while I -" I need a drink. Rum and Diet Coke (have to keep up the bod). "Uh huh... ok. Bye." She hands the phone back. "He's on his way."
"Mm hmm..." she purrs. "And, he said something about monitoring lines."
"Legal nonsense. I can't believe you convinced him in three seconds flat, like that."
"Well, sometimes you have to get right to it," she points out, kissing my neck. "Took longer than three seconds, didn't it?"
"Not by much. My point is -"
"Do you have any idea how bad I want to get in your pants, right now?" Yes, darling, but he's on the way like you said, and soon as he gets here, we can all -- "I can understand if you have this thing about staying faithful, so you don't want anything goin' on if he's not around to participate. That's cool. Which is why I think you should just lay there and let me make you feel good, in the meantime. That's safe, right? You aren't cheating if you don't return the favor." Hmm. I see the logic... don't I? Oh, please let there be logic.
She moves on top of me, kisses me. "I'll be gentle, I swear." I open my mouth to her tongue, my hands on her back, permission granted. She smiles, kisses, licks at my throat. Goes down, pushes my shirt up to expose my stomach, and tastes the skin. Licking upward, her tongue making a slick trail to my bra. She puts her mouth over one of my breasts, trying to find the hidden nipple, which is standing upright beneath the bra. I sit up, unhook it from the back. Pull the shirt over my head, and fling it.
Lay back down. Lisa's on my naked breast, mouth taking as much of it in her mouth, under her tongue, as possible, the tongue tweaking my erect nipple. She drags her lips together, slowly, squeezing my tit, until she is sucking the nipple. Biting, some, a hand taking care of the other breast. And, then her seasoned mouth is there, as well.
She finds my hands, which've been minding their own to this point, and places them firmly on the back of her head, as she moves lower. Making me direct her descent. She reaches under my ass, feeling the naked small of my back, and then grabs my jeans and pulls. Jeans off; no panties. Wore a bra, but no panties; what's that about? Mind must've been on other - ohh... her mouth is at my pussy. "Ooh, nice tatt," she comments, refering to the full-bloom red rose I had done on my pubis, back in high school; hurt like a bitch, as I recall.
"Thank you," I say.
"Don't thank me, yet, baby." Her mouth is over my pussy, now, the whole thing. And, yes, mm hm, there goes the tongue. One smooth lick, and orgasm hits. She wasn't expecting that, seems like, as her head kind of jerks back a little from the tiny squirt of ejaculate; I'm an easy come, in the beginning. She keeps that up, and there will be at least two more quakes before Michael's key even touches the front doorknob. Not grossed out, however - I've had people be - she quickly return s to her licking. Lisa turns out to be the best head I've ever gotten (sorry, honey); it's just that she's so active, tongue seemingly everywhere at once, successfully leaving not a sensitive area untouched. It's all pretty sensitive, down there where she is, which means she can't miss. Her long, probing tongue rotates inside me, lashing wall to wall... finds the clitoris, no problem... mouth closes around the labia, sucking, tongue still fucking me... my hips buck at her face, involuntarily, then I control it, hands still holding on to the back of her head, clenching mops of blonde hair, though not very roughly... she's slurping, licking at the inner lips, back to my clit, sucking on it hard... using her teeth, digging in to my twat, not enough to wound but enough to, "Shit.." get a reaction.
Much to my surprise, due to the total preoccupation I have with the oral being given me, Michael appears. Lisa doesn't stop. I sit back, from her, and she looks up at me, first, then behind her off my look. Sees him, too. She rolls over on her back, lips wet. "Better call 911," she says, jokingly, "break in."
"Hey, guys," Michael greets Lisa and, I suppose, me also. "Don't mean to interrupt."
I hurry over to him, kiss him to ease any discomfort he may have with the scene.
"Hi, babe. How was traffic?"
"Nil. What's going on?" The question comes off general, passive, not accusatory; no hint of anger. I take his hand, walk him over to the bed for formal intro's.
"Michael, Lisa," I instigate, "Lisa.. my husband."
Lisa gets up. That drunken, hazy grin. She wipes her mouth, wipes her hand on her jeans, then shakes Michael's hand. "Hello, Michael." She gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Care to join us?"
You have to get right to it, sometimes..
I move to the back of Michael, hoping he won't be overwhelmed. We've never actually done this. Lisa immediately reaches for the front of his jeans, loosens them. I rest my chin on his shoulder, watching Lisa, and tell him, "Welcome home." I start massaging his ribs, while Lisa takes his cock out, into her mouth. He's already hard, no work needed. I feel him tremble, and do my best to calm it by rubbing his shoulders.
"I need some help, down here," Lisa announces; my cue. I slowly walk around Michael, lean in and kiss my tongue in his mouth, right before sitting beside Lisa on the bed. She has a firm grip on his shaft, the head bulging with anticipation. Lisa takes it in her mouth, one more time, then pops it out, aims him my direction. I don't need further invitation. I move in, forehead pressed against his stomach, his cock all the way to the back of my throat. Pull back, gradually, letting him feel my tongue as it slides from the base of his shaft to cockhead, and then push my head forward again, swallowing his bulge. A rhythm established, I repeat these steps, going faster than before, screwing him with my face, becoming steadily anxious not only because I love oral sex but also because having not allowed myself to do Lisa, heretofore, has made me somewhat hot and bothered.
She is just observing the blowjob. Taking notes; what. I pull Michael's cock out of my mouth, and it is dripping rather sloppily with saliva, so I give it a few strong jerks to tidy up. Lisa takes over, slamming her mouth over him, while I relocate my attention to his balls. I lick and suck, lick and suck his instinctually tensing sac, Lisa tending the more important portion of his package. We both look up at him, he at us, three sets of eyes in unspoken conversation, and his nose kind of crinkles. Very cute. Makes me want my place back, on his cock. Lisa is willing to share - has no choice - and so we put our mouths together in combined effort on his unit, tongue licking tongue licking cock. "Fuck us," I say, which comes out garbled because... well, because I've got a mouthful. It is still understood perfectly by all parties concerned, and Lisa starts moaning for vibration effect, and Michael pushes forth, driving his dick through the narrow canal created between our lips and all the rest. And then, as he masturbates himself with our aid, Lisa and I begin sliding our mouths side to side on him, meeting halfway then going separate ways, over and over - Lisa to swelled head, myself to root, every inch covered... "my girlie ran away, with my pay, when the fellas came to play" is sung inside my head, out of nowhere, from last night and every night at the club this past week; dig that song... I move my hand onto Michael's ass, and push along with his forward processions. I pull his jeans down and uncover his naked bottom (neither of us wore undies... must be a sign), and get my fingers into the crack of his ass and squeeze the cheek in my grasp.
He groans when I do this, probably about to come. I don't know, maybe not. Beastie Boys, something old school, starts up from the player, at just the right time if you ask me; seems to enhance the atmosphere in the room. Michael has his hands on both our heads. Lisa is sucking him off. I'm placing my tongue wherever it fits that is available.. testicles, beneath and around on them; on his hip, biting a spot; the base of his by now aching cock, lingering to meet Lisa's upper lip when she comes forward again. She takes the cock from her mouth, holding on, pointing it down a bit to give the two of us room, and we kiss. She keeps stroking his cock, two things at once, and our tongues swirl together moistly.
Lisa notices Michael staring down at us. "Hey, big guy," she goads him, stroking, "come for us, then you get to fuck my pussy, while she watches."
Interesting proposition. Michael and I share a brief dialogue with our eyes, and agree to the terms outlined.
"Here," Lisa says, getting to her feet, "you suck, I'll pump." She hands Michael over to me, and I engulf the cock with eager mouth. Lisa circles around behind Michael, and I watch as she unbuttons his shirt. Once it is off him, her hands roam his stomach and chest, and finally end up one on his cock and one on his hip. I suck backward, for Lisa to get a fix on Michael's erection, and the she picks up where she left off. We work together, once again - her stroking; me sucking. I hear, but do not search for the source of the talk mostly because it couldn't be anyone else, whispering. She isn't whispering, rather speaking to my husband in quite the sultry voice, "You see that..? See her sucking on that cock?"
I, myself, try and avoid such obvious questions with dirty talk during sex. Usually keep it to a bare minimum of one or two word phrases; occasionally three. Shorter, more to the point, inquiries such as, "Harder!"... "Fuck that pussy!"... "Lick me!" (or, "Eat me")... shit like that, may be just as derivative, but work better on the male, or female, subject. Her way isn't holding him back, by any means, though, so.. whatever.
"She wants it," Lisa tells him. "Give it to her, come in her mouth."
Lisa jerks him rapidly, and I keep pace, stopping now and again to simply wrest my lips snugly upon Michael's bloated head, licking into the piss slit like I know he likes. We lock eyes, and I open my mouth, my teeth grazing lightly on his head, smiling. I know what's on the way, and I can't muffle a laugh - more a girlish sort of giggle - and he smiles back. The hand on his cock is all over, cupping his balls, twisting the shaft; not only straight stroking. Lisa might not sense his orgasm, but I do: something between husband and wife, something you know if you've been there a hundred times, before. Without a word, groan, tangible change in stance or clenching of fists it's there, clear as day.
Probably on tip toes, because of her size, I see Lisa looking down Michael's body from behind him, and Michael with his eyes shut and his head tilted back, slightly. And, he comes; quieter one than I'm accustomed to. My tongue out, he unleashes sperm in white bursts, until I'm coated with the stuff. Jesus.. less noise, yet more (a fucking shitload more) cum in the mouth. Note to self.
I sit back from his twitching cock, my elbows up on the bed, head back, letting the gel swim to the back of my throat. Down, it goes. Sigh, "Whew.."
back around, seeing that it's finished. "All gone..?" she asks,
with spurious dissatisfaction. All's I can do is nod. "No fun,"
she whines. I raise my head, look at her, shrug; what'd you expect? She
looks at both of us: "We're just gonna have to fuck, then. For real,
this time." She shrugs, matter-of-factly. Michael and I acknowledge
the demand, silently accept the next task as fact; if that's how it's
|Another top quality story by Jon Ridge.|