tagMatureA New Mattress For Daphne

A New Mattress For Daphne


Author's Note: This is an entry in the Nude Day contest for 2018. All characters are fictional and over 18. Enjoy!


"How do we look?"

"Uhh. Ohh uh. Umm." Words would not come to him, not to describe what he saw.

Gabriella, his wife, turned to her best friend Daphne. "See? That's what made me fall for the English major. And why the University just offered him tenure. His way with words is incredible."

Daphne giggled, stepped closer to him. "The Poet Laureate at a loss for words. I think we should take it as a compliment, Gabby."

Gabriella moved between the two, wrapped slim arms around her speechless husband. "Is that right, Mark? Is 'umm, uhhh, ahhh' considered a compliment?"

He drew in a deep breath, tried again. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. "You both look really...good."

"Good?" Gabriella's eyebrows pulled in tight together. "Good? That's all we get."

Daphne was laughing openly now.

"You both look great. I don't think I have ever seen two more beautiful women."

"You're getting closer."

"Okay. I am having serious doubts about whether I should have anything to do with driving the two of you downtown to party at a club when you both look so incredibly, ridiculously, sexy and hot. I don't want to contribute to a local health emergency, combining mass blood pressure increases, rampant depression and self-doubt among any other ladies unlucky enough to be out this evening, and a possible outbreak of club-wide priapism."

The two were gorgeous and showing it. Gabriella had promised Daphne this night when they had planned the visit, months ago. High-school best friends, former co-captains of the cheerleading squad, both had complained that they felt old as they passed 40 years old, and that they didn't catch guys' wandering eyes like they used to.

With three months to prepare, he had more more than enough of their mutual support over the phone, reporting on visits to the gym, on Pilates sessions and hot yoga. Gabriella would provide the home base - Mark and Gabby's house - and easy access to the College-town's dance clubs. Daphne had promised to provide the outfits to truly show off their rejuvenated figures. 'We're going to show off more of our hot bods than we could at Nude Day,' she had said. The annual nudity festival had been suggested as a potential venue for their big 'reveal' when they first began planning this weekend, before they settled on a new and popular dance club.

'Ravewear' is what Daphne called the tight, skimpy, bright and revealing clothes she had found online. Mark wondered if body-paint might have been concealing, if full nudity might have been more modest. His wife had always been hot, but she had started to dress more conservatively as their 20s and then 30s rolled on, and employment replaced school. She had kept a trim, attractive figure, but he definitely appreciated the toned, hard-body edge the last few months had brought back.

The stretchy multi-colored velour jumpsuit she wore was cut away over her stomach, showing off the smooth, tan hints of a feminine six-pack. The lack of any creases or lines led him to believe she wasn't wearing anything under it at all. Her nipples had always been tiny suggestions, never rising much at all when they contracted in hardness when she was cold or aroused, so he was not surprised that he saw no sign of them now through the almost fuzzy fabric.

Daphne was another story. Her breasts and hips had always been bigger than her friend's, and the last time he had seen her she had complained about the slight thickening of her waist. She was curvy more than athletic in shape and Mark had thought at the time that she still looked great. Her ever-bright smile, blond hair and blue eyes, and flirty manner still reminded him of the Daphne from her school years.

The months of intensive exercise had worked magic. While her hips and bottom still rounded out in tempting curves, they were accented now by a tucked in, slim waistline. Her dress was thin, form-fitting lycra, the metallic aqua color of the background bringing out the bright blue of her eyes. It hid nothing but skin, and he avoided staring at the two raised points on her chest, clearly defined nipples capping breasts that had not lost any of their size as her waist slimmed down.

Gabriella squeezed him tight, her body grinding against his. "That's my erudite sweetheart. Priapism! I like that one. If I see any extreme cases, I'll be sure to let the poor fellows know to call their doctor if it lasts more than four hours."

"Let me know about any sightings first. I think I could use a case for a good four hours." Daphne's smile was bittersweet. Mark had only learned yesterday that the long-planned visit coincided with Daphne finally leaving her deadbeat husband, Chuck. "It's been like four months since I've had any man-action at all."

"Daph, if you don't get plenty of offers for 'man-action' tonight, it's only because that dress inspired them to something else first, and they got distracted by the munchies."

The shimmering blue-green background was covered with bright green sprigs of thin leaves. Marijuana leaves.

She giggled again, her face brightening at his comment. "As long as they give me a hit too, I'll keep them focused on the important stuff. Like these babies."

Small hands cupped barely contained breasts, pushing them together. Mark clearly saw a thumb drag slowly over the rise of one nipple. He looked away, but not before she caught his eyes with her own, letting him know she knew what he saw.

"Ahh! Gabbers! Your man is so cute. He won't even gawk at me."

Gabriella rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "It's okay, babe. Don't torture yourself. When Daph is showing off, it's okay to look. Just don't drool too much."

"Yeah." The curvy blond joined the couple, wrapping one arm around each of them. A full, firm breast pushed against Mark's arm. "I need lots of attention tonight."

She nuzzled her face into Gabriella's dark, almost black mass of hair. Mark's wife had been brought to the U.S. as a child from Brazil, and traced her ancestors to Chinese immigrants who had come to South America, native Brazilians, and Portuguese settlers. Her bronze-olive skin, high cheekbones and dark eyes gave her a look most Anglos summed up as 'exotic.'

"Damn, girl. You smell good." Daphne's voice was muffled, until Gabriella pushed her away. Mark laughed: he had always found her almost spicy scent, especially her hair, intoxicating.

"Down, hussy, down." Gabriella shook her head. "You must be horny. You don't normally go for girls, at least unless you get stoned."

Mark had never witnessed it himself, but Daphne had a reputation going back to school days for losing all inhibitions when she smoked pot. The skin-tight dress was an open invitation to a wild evening.

Gabriella's shove had been light, but Daphne allowed herself to stumble back, only catching herself when she was leaning, bent over the back of a chair. He let his eyes take in the luscious round curves of her barely contained backside. The position caused the dress to hike higher up smooth thighs.

His wife was watching him when he finally looked away. "She is hot, isn't she?"

Mark shook his head. "I can't deny that. You've got your hands full tonight, hon."

Daphne slapped her own butt. "I want some hands full of this tonight, but not hers."

"You know." The blond continued. "If these outfits don't work, I still might have to go for the full reveal at the park for Nude Day tomorrow."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, hon?"

Mark wasn't sure how to answer his wife. "If you were there with her, I make no promises about being able to hold back my drool. But honestly, ladies, I can't see how you two could look any hotter than you do now."

"Ahh. Your man is so sweet." Daphne kissed his cheek and his wife matched is on the other side.


The ribald chatter continued throughout the short drive downtown. Traffic in front of the club Gabriella had chosen was busy enough that Mark could only pull to a stop, double parked, to let the two contrasting beauties out. "Be good. And text me when you want a ride."

"I will, babe. Love ya." Gabriella got the words out in a rush before the door slammed shut. Mark pulled away, noticing how many girls - girls who he may well have seen in class or on the campus of the University in sweats and jeans, hair under ball caps - were dressed in outfits at least as revealing as the two he had just dropped off.

Driving off, a hand found his length along the inside of one thigh, images of ravewear stretched tight over feminine bodies filling his thoughts. The thoughts of the younger partiers soon receded, along with thoughts of what he wanted to do to and with Gabriella as soon as he got her alone.

Other images stayed with him once he was home. Images of Daphne burying her face in his wife's hair, bent over to flaunt her round full hips and ass in that suggestive dress, eyes on him as a thumb rubbed a tease over one erect, obvious nipple. He wondered how it would look, exposed, if she pulled the top of the dress down. Pink like Gabriella's or darker, contrasting with her lighter skin?

Mark poured himself a beer, the one he would allow since he would be driving later. He found himself pacing the house, from room to room. Normally, he could relax when he knew he had time and the house to himself. Now, whenever he settled on the couch, his hand found his crotch, found himself stiffly erect in his pants.

He wandered into the spare bedroom, the guest room where Daphne would be sleeping. The mattress was new, bare on the platform bed. Gabriella had ordered a foam mattress online, but hadn't liked it as much as she's hoped. The company offered a full refund, but didn't want the mattress returned as it was horrendously bulky to ship once it was removed from it's vacuum packed state. Instead, they had told her to simply 'donate' it to any worthy cause or individual and send them the receipt.

Gabriella had suggested Daphne as a worthy individual since she had left Chuck, moving into an unfurnished apartment, and would be needing a bed.

A new image filled Mark's head, fueled by an earlier sight: Daphne bent over on the mattress, knees tucked under swaying hips. Like she had done earlier, a hand slapped one full cheek. This time it was an invitation. The hand stayed on there, first squeezing the firm flesh through the party dress, then seeking lower to grab the hem.

Mark pictured the blond tugging up the stretchy pot-printed fabric, exposing twin globes separated only by a thin, white thong. The image-Daphne's eyes were locked on his. "I need it, Mark. I need it bad. It's been sooo long."

This Daphne then scrambled to her knees, looking up at him from the mattress, begging. She dragged a palm over the almost painfully hard outline in his pants. "Get me high, Mark. Then do anything you want with me. I've wanted this big cock for such a long, long time."

Mark groaned out loud, waking himself from the vivid, waking dream. Her small hand had been tugging at his length with each repeated "long." Now his hand did the same in reality, finding himself as aroused as he had been in weeks, at least.

He shook his head, considering first the small stash of pot he always kept in the garage. He didn't smoke often, but wondered if it would calm him down. He rejected the idea for the same reason as a second beer: he would be driving soon.

His hand and body suggested another way to relax, to ease the tension: he could beat off. He had no doubt it wouldn't take long due to his current state. A new image presented itself: finding a pair of Daphne's panties; stroking himself while he inhaled her scent; emptying himself into the white, soft knit.

He rejected the second method of relaxation too: Gabriella usually wanted - demanded - vigorous sex after she had been out dancing, especially after time with her close friend. He wanted to save his arousal for her, wanted to see thick ropes of his cum coating her newly toned, tightened little body.

The second part of Mark's latest idea still appealed to him though. He saw Daphne's open suitcase on the floor. It couldn't hurt to look for her underwear, to see what the hot teaser liked to wear. Just a quick peak.

He saw a pair of white cotton panties bunched in one corner. They were the only thing not neatly folded, so he assumed she had worn them on the drive down. He pressed the small bundle to his face, inhaling as she had done in his wife's hair.

Her scent was subtle, not the rich spiciness of Gabriella, but still intoxicating. He pictured her kneeling on the mattress again, seeing himself push aside the narrow band covering her, leaning close to scent and then to taste her. Hearing her soft keening moan, feeling the tensing arch of her back as the taste extended along her damp slit.

He groaned, shaking his head. He felt like a teenager, filled with raging hormones. He started to push himself to his feet again when his eyes caught a purple gleam exposed near where he had replaced the panties. He lifted folded clothes to look underneath.

"Damn." The purple plastic and rubber revealed formed an intriguing curved double shape, compact in size. The main shaft was obviously a vibrator, vaguely shaped like a bowing, stiff penis. It was paralleled by a second, smaller shaft, perhaps half the length and narrower in thickness.

His mind quickly saw the bigger part sliding into Daphne. That allowed the smaller section to run up above her opening. It was easy to imagine her writhing as the vibrations played directly over and around her hidden clitoris.

"Reverse it." He almost heard her words out loud, the image in his head was so distinct. She was bent over again. A small hand smacked hard enough on exposed, upturned flesh that it left an angry red five-fingered print. "Turn it around."

Turn it around? Mark's conscious mind, perhaps short of oxygen as his groin continued to demand any available extra blood flow, was slow to catch up to his subconscious imagination.

Oh. Reversed, he could see that the smaller, slimmer section would find a smaller, snugger entrance. One just behind the slick opening holding the main section, just between the two offered and upturned cheeks, just hidden in the narrow crevice that had held the now-vanished white thong. He saw the slim curved secondary opening her reluctant rearward entrance.

What a naughty girl Daphne was! Or, at least, the Daphne Mark's mind had conjured up. He carefully replaced the purple pleaser and the panties.

He had left the spare room, poured himself a glass of water, when he jumped at a sudden sensation in his crotch. His phone, in his front pocket, vibrated, sending a shock up his sensitized length. He checked the text message.

'2 horny hotties want a handsome uber-man. Cum get us'

He had to assume that Gabriella was at least a little drunk to send that, probably with a mischievous Daphne leaning over her shoulder. He was surprised so much time had passed: it was well after midnight.


Mark felt lucky to find parking just over a block away. The club-goers he saw now on the streets were a little louder, a little less stable on their feet than before. A couple hours of drinking and who knew what else could do that, especially to some of the more petite, barely but brightly clad cuties he passed.

The two cuties he sought, however, were not in sight. He handed over the ten dollar cover charge and headed inside, immediately hit by the heat, and the beat of thumping electronica. Strobes of black light and pulsing laser colors flickered over a glowing, dancing, partying mass of young humanity.

He scanned the open room, eyes adjusting to the dimness punctuated by the bright, non-illuminating flashes. If he had thought the newly purchased 'ravewear' would make the ladies easy to find, he was now disillusioned.

Slim arms snaked around him from behind as what could only have been twin firm breasts pressed against his back. Shouted words reached him faintly over the thrumming bass beat. "There you are!"

Small hands roamed over his chest and stomach, continuing as Gabriella appeared in front of him. Her eyes and her smile both had a big, beaming, but unfocused look to them: his wife was buzzed.

"Hi, Honey!" She swayed to one side and he caught her slender hips. Very buzzed.

The arms around him slipped lower, around his waist. He felt the breasts drag across his back until Daphne's face appeared to one side. "Hi, Honey!"

Two buzzed ravers. Somewhere both had acquired a splash of glitter across their faces that he knew had not been there when he dropped them off.

"Ready to go?" He tried to avoid yelling, went unheard.

"What?" It was easier to lip-read than to clearly hear his wife's question.

"I wanna dance!" Daphne bounced against him, her breasts emphasizing the motion against his side and arm.

Gabriella made a face, her knees pulling in close together. She pulled his head down, wet lips close to his ear. "I gotta pee. I don't think I can make it home. Dance with the bitch."

The lips tugged at his lobe, teasing. "Have fun with the floozy. She needs the attention right now."

With one hand behind his head, she pulled her blond friend close. "He'll take care of you."

She looked back at him. "Take good care of her."

Even with Daphne clinging close, he had to appreciate the sight of his wife weaving away in her plush jumpsuit. Her trim waist rotated above toned hips with each sauntering step. Again he saw her, stripped naked under him, striped with lines of his cum.

Then Daphne grabbed his hand, dragged him into the gyrating crowd. She found a spot among the revelers where the impact of dancing bodies was at least not continuous. She stopped.

The sudden braking caused Mark to bump into her from behind. The guiding hand still hold his wrapped that arm around her and Daphne began to move with the music. Her full, round backside, newly lifted from her shared exercise regimen, ground back against him.

Mark went with it, bending his knees to lower himself behind her, allowing her hand to push his bigger one down to her waist. When she bent forward he grabbed the opposite hip with his free hand, pulling her tight against him. Blond hair shook in a cascade around her downturned head. The dance was simple, animal, simulated sex in the middle of a crowd of sweaty strangers performing their own varied versions.

He found himself getting hard, realized she could feel it when her motion changed from side to side to a more vertical grinding, the stretched fabric between her cheeks trapping his length.

He felt her hand clasp harder onto his before she raised her upper half back, not only to stand, but to lean back against him, her lower body's motion staying unchanged. The back of her head tucked in under his chin.

He hesitated for an instant, then gave in when her grasp pulled one arm up, higher across her body. Her guiding fingers squeezed over his when they finally stopped, with his arm at a diagonal across her front, cinching her back against him, his hand directly over one breast.

The hand squeezed his again. When he responding, cupping her through her thin dress, he felt her lean harder against him. Her dancing ground to a not slower, but deeper rhythm. He felt a tickle of soft hair move against his neck as her head tilted upward.

Warm breath was followed by a moist kiss under his jaw. He pulled her tighter against him, his hips responding to the unspoken invitation. The kiss repeated, soft and slow.

He surprised himself when his finger and thumb found her nipple, hard and obvious through the dress. It felt so difference from his wife's tiny pink ones.

His wife.

Mark's fingers froze, his hand pulling away from her, or trying to. Her own smaller, weaker hand pinned his in place, squeezed. He felt the resistance, the give of her soft breast compressing under his palm.

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byKethandra© 4 comments/ 37250 views/ 37 favorites

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