Far and Away

It worked. Frequently and regularly Dave's name was no longer just part of work wrap-ups but our sexual unwrapping. I assume, still assume it was all fantasy at that stage. When not in heat, Lori is pretty cautious and conservative. Sex is a bad girl thing. But increasingly, I didn't care. I always wanted to hear more. Sometimes Lori would relate her fantasies as I buried my face in the wet folds of her pussy. Other times she'd want me to tell her my fantasies of what Dave did to her while she was far and away. It could have been taken as de facto permission to convert fantasy to reality.

I converted the de facto encouragement to de jure permission. I told Lori, she could have other men if the right opportunity presented itself. I'd send her away on trips equipped with condoms, fancy lingerie, and even a vibrator. I'd make sure she was wearing sexy bras, just pantyhose or even no panties when she left. I told her I wanted her to dress to be in the mood and available. Lori likes a certain amount of control and direction. Her fantasies frequently involve some degree of male authority or domination to remove the constraint on the woman's part. There's no moral culpability for her if the female is compelled to do something. It's ironic because in work she's in a position of authority. I made it clear that she had permission, not because I wanted to sleep around with other woman. I didn't. It was because I wanted her to have pleasure and because I found it arousing that other men wanted her.

She wanted permission to be a bad girl, a bad girl who really enjoys sex. I gave it to her.

I could just picture sex on their expense account. So much opportunity, so many places where local eyes were absent and the freedom of distant romantic places could play out. There was the little colonial era inn in Connecticut. They could start out in the tap room with seafood and steak. Dave could ply Lori with white wine or her weakness -- margaritas, before taking her upstairs to plough Lori.

There was the Wilmington, South Carolina project with the hotel overlooking the harbor and restaurants a plenty filled with southern charm and diaphanous sea scents. At dinner Lori would wear a perfectly tailored sundress unbuttoned high to expose her inner thighs and unbuttoned low for provocative cleavage and a hint of bare breast or tantalizing lace bra. The conversation would be light and loaded with sexual innuendo. In a close romantic setting, Dave should be able to smell Lori's arousal and see the signs of wanton desire in hardened nipples and face and chest blushing red.

I wanted to hear her describe how when dinner was done he took her upstairs and bent her over the bed in her room, lifting her skirt to reveal a bare bottom and slippery wet pussy. Lori so loves to be fucked from behind. With some alcohol spinning her head and blood rushing in her ears, she would be putty in his big hands. She'd be both horny and compliant to his wishes.

I wanted her to pleasure Dave and be pleasured in turn. I wanted her to suck his cock and spread her legs for another man, a bigger man. All things I intellectually know you're not supposed to desire or enjoy contemplating. But I did. The thought of her lips wrapped around the large fleshy helmet crowning his cock drove me wild with desire.

I longed to hear her stories of her sexual adventures and pleasures.

And she obliged.

She was in Florida, staying at one of the high rise hotels that line the beach in Miami.

I was in bed when she called at 4:37 am her time on the East coast. Her voice was husky.

"Are you awake?" By which she meant are you still awake, or perhaps were you awake before I called?

"No, but that's okay. It's early for you. Couldn't sleep?" I inquired.

"More like, didn't sleep. I did something else instead. . ."

"What?"

"Dave is here with me in Florida. He was here in my room tonight."

I was breathing shallowly and my heart was suddenly racing. I didn't know quite what to say. So I didn't say anything immediately. I felt a tingle in my chest and a sharp pain down my arm.

"He was here, in me tonight."

Now my heart was hammering. "I can just imagine."

"I wasn't imagining it. I can still taste his cock."

I held my breath in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes. I was a bad girl, just like you've always wanted."

"Did you want him?"

"Yes. I couldn't believe how much."

"Tell me about it." The pain was still there in my chest and arm. The sudden anxiety, but I needed to hear more.

"We had dinner downstairs in the hotel restaurant. Pretty standard fare. Dave would have normally gone elsewhere with a more elaborate menu, but we got in late from Raleigh. It didn't matter to me. I was just planning a quick bite. I had a salmon salad. Dave thought that occasioned some white wine. He ordered some of that St. Suprey Moscato I love."

The Moscato is really closer to a California champagne than say a Chardonnay and the St. Suprey version almost rose in color. It's a sweet wine, easy to drink. I gave Dave credit for keeping track of what Lori likes. It really is her favorite wine, and not inexpensive. In the liquor store it's a twenty-five dollar bottle of wine. In a restaurant . . .well, there's the advantage of a big developer's expense account -- at least before the real estate crash.

"I may have loved it a bit too much."

"How so?"

"We had two bottles. Dave kept filling my glass before it was empty. I fear I had more than my fair share. And you know how I am with alcohol. I don't think the salmon salad was enough food to take much of the edge off the buzz, especially since we started drinking on an empty stomach before the food arrived. It goes to my head even quicker then."

She really is a light weight. One beer or wine is normally enough to set her head to spinning and unbridles her laughter. She's a happy drunk. Even better a horny drunk. Lori doesn't drink often, but a handful of drinks she craves are almost guaranteed to get her in the mood: Margaritas or Corona Light with a lime or lemon for when she's in a Mexican mood; Makers Mark when she's in an indulgent whiskey girl mood; or a glass or two of St. Suprey Moscato. With four or five glasses it's like giving someone the key.

"Sounds delicious," I led her on.

"There was a piano player in the bar. Dave asked me to dance."

"What were you wearing?"

"You would have liked my outfit. I had on my black blouse with the sheer black sleeves. . ."

I knew the one she meant. It did have sheer sleeves. What she didn't say was that the torso was sheer too. It had small rows of ruffles on the front and perhaps the body wasn't quite as sheer as the long flowing sleeves, but it was still quite transparent, especially in the right light.

". . . with that wine or burgundy color lace demi bra you like so much."

"Yes, I do like that one. It barely covers your areolae." The demi cup leaves the tops of her 34DD breasts fully exposed as the straps are far to the side and the underwire provides marvelous cleavage.

"And my cream colored slacks."

"Very nice. I always loved how those hug your hips." They do fit perfectly. The light-weight wool would reveal any panty line, suggesting my next question, "Anything underneath?"

"The matching burgundy lace thong." The lace really is beautiful, beautifully sheer, and the fit cut high on her waist, visually stretching her already long legs. No panty lines but still some sensuous accent.

"Did you dance?"

"Yes. We were the only ones on the dance floor. They were slow songs. Dave held me close. We weren't the only ones in the bar. I felt on display, but with the wine I didn't mind. I even kind of liked it."

Normally she's a bit shy in public. Family wedding dances are one thing. Out alone in public or on a date in a strange venue? Then she's a bit self-conscious, but apparently not this night.

"You'd make a good pair. What was Dave wearing?"

"Just a blue button-down broadcloth dress shirt and nice tropical weight dress slacks. He looked good. He felt good." Her voice dropped in volume and increased in breathiness, "I could feel his firm cock as he pressed into me while we danced. You were so right. God he's big. He put his hands on my butt and held me against him as he got harder."

"That would have been a sight."

"I couldn't help it. I arched my back and pressed into him. I didn't care that so many people were watching. You can't believe how erotic it was."

"Erotic, not romantic?"

"Erotic. Horny erotic. I just wanted to fuck him so bad. Right there. I could feel him almost like neither of us was wearing anything. I could feel exactly how he was oriented. I wanted to reach down and fondle his balls right there, but he was grinding them on my thighs. It was making me so wet between my legs I could feel the slickness in my panties. He kissed me on my neck, behind my ear, and on my lips. He whispered, can I take you upstairs?"

Lori loves being kissed on her long neck. "Please tell me you said, 'Yes.'"

"Yes. 'Take me upstairs,' I practically begged him. Oh, you can't believe how much I wanted his cock. And when I said, 'Yes,' he fondled my breasts right there on the dance floor. He squeezed hard. You know I can't resist that at least when I'm not tender sore. 'Hurry,' I whispered to him.

He fondled and kissed me in the long lobby. As we rode up on the glass elevator, he unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it off my shoulders, baring my bra. His fingers found my bare nipples under the lace. He pushed down the lace and pinched my nipples. His hands felt like fire on my skin. He'd run a hand over my breast, across my throat and under my ear, arching my neck to kiss me and plunge down to feel a breast again. Twenty-one floors never flew by so fast. I was flush, could feel the heat. Was practically fainting in his arms."

Lori's voice was rushing a bit, as she described the ride up the elevator. Her timbre now more breathy than husky and her words more hurried and urgent, just like the story. It sounded like she was reliving the rush of heat.

"And oh, Ghaad, when the doors opened, there was a couple standing there in their swimsuits going down to the pool. There I was with my shirt open and half off. I wasn't showing that much more than the woman in her bikini top, but it was obvious. One nipple was still half peeking out over that low front you like so much. I went to cover up with my hands, but Dave held my arms and kissed me again in front of them. I felt like a slut but also like I didn't care if I looked like a slut."

"Cause you just wanted him to fuck you." It was a statement, not a question. You know how after awhile in a relationship you know exactly how the other person thinks. You can finish their thoughts for them. It can be annoying but also proof of bonding.

"Yes, I just wanted him to fuck me. You've teased me with how big he is. He's flirted with me for ages. I've flirted back. We've fantasized about him. I've fantasized about him alone in my room in hotels. I've dreamed that vibrator was him. And tonight I didn't want a vibrator.

I fumbled at the door. I couldn't open it fast enough. It was a flurry of hands. He stripped off my blouse. I unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his chest while I undid his belt and zipper. I peeled down his shirt as he stepped out of his pants. We were still just inside the door to my room and we were already mostly naked.

You won't believe this, but I knelt in front of him. I still had on my heels and slacks. My bra strap was undone. I didn't feel him do that. But I hadn't bothered to slip the straps off my arms, so it just kind of dangled there, gapping away from my breasts. Just as well, as Dave cupped my breasts and pulled me to him. His cock was hard and sticking up well above the waist band of his briefs. I pulled his shorts down and peeled off his socks. He kind of helped by bending each knee in turn and lifting a foot."

Lori doesn't like a naked man in socks. Finds it looks silly.

"How big is he hard?" I whispered. Odd to talk about another man's cock, but I needed to know.

"Big. He's huge. Both length and circumference. . ."

She was a design professional by original training, of course she'd know the right word.

". . . the tips of my fingers don't touch holding him. He's got to be at least twice as big around as you. And longer. And his testicles are big and heavy. I couldn't resist. I kissed the tip of his cock."

Lori's not normally one to start with fellatio. It's more of a rare treat for me. But I guess she wasn't just really starting with Dave either. She was already pretty worked up and worked over. I wished I'd seen that vision, my wife sucking another man's cock and a big cock at that.

She continued, "He was already creamy slick with pre-cum. I painted my lips with his lipstick. I licked up each pearl as I could tease it from the tip of his cock. He was really wet. Wetter than you get. And have I told you I like the taste of pre-cum much better than cum?"

Here all along I'd been the basis for comparison but I couldn't remember the last time she'd let me actually cum in her mouth when she was sober enough to remember. She'd been setting new benchmarks without me.

"I love the feel of that fleshy crown on a cock. Dave's is delicious. I could barely get him into my mouth. I always thought I had a wide mouth but I couldn't suck him very deep, he filled my mouth he's so huge. I wanted to make sure Dave felt good. I wanted to be sure he'd cum when we fucked. I could feel the skin of his cock draw ever tauter and his balls were heavy in my hands as I milked him to full hardness."

She was teasing me, sharing stories.

"Before Dave could lose it and cum in my mouth he pushed me away and pulled me to my feet. He pushed the bra off my bare arms and onto the floor. And this was so cool. With one hand he cupped my pussy from behind and through my legs, practically lifting me off my feet. He was holding me up by my crotch with one hand as he splayed the fingers of his other hand across my bare belly and dragged them down in tracings to the zipper of my slacks. I don't know how he managed so fluidly but in one pass my zipper was undone and his other hand plunged down under the front of my thong. I was soaked. He now held my pussy in the cradle of his two hands and lifted me off my feet as two fingers of his front hand slipped into my very wet cunt. I loved the feeling of his big hands under my bottom and cupping my pussy. I wrapped my arms around his neck."

His big hands are strong arms were the payoff she hoped.

"He lifted me up and carried me to the bed like that. His hands between my legs, finger fucking me, as my head lay cradled on his shoulder and my feet dangled free. All I had on was my lace thong. Dave was naked. You always tell me you want another naked man to see me sexually. Now Dave has."

"I told you other men want to fuck you. Why do you doubt me? You're very fuckable."

"Dave carried me to the bed. He knelt with one knee on the bed and laid me down. His fingers stayed in my pussy but his other hand slowly slid up my spine to support my shoulders as he put me out for display on the king size bed. He made me seem light as a feather; it was so smooth and effortless.

He stood up briefly above me, pulling my thong off as he retreated. Now I was naked for him and he for me. Dave looked like a heroic Greek statute in that instant of time. He's got those wide shoulders and strong chest, trim waist and narrow hips and a tight butt. And that cock. It looked big. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I loved how his balls hung so low, each clearly defined. He was like a horse or a bull."

My own balls tend to draw up into a tight ball when I'm erect but I could picture his pendulous sack and scale from the country club showers. "Were you afraid he was too big?" In the stories you read women have to be comforted to take on a man with a big cock, fearful it will hurt.

"Not at all. All I could think of was wanting him inside me, and wonderment that he wanted to be inside me. My pussy was wet beyond belief. My skin was on fire. Every touch of his hand was like an electrical tingle straight to the base of my skull."

"Did you have your condoms?" I know she did because I always packed them for her in one of the little pockets of both her computer case and roller suitcase. She was the one concerned to use condoms.

"No, I didn't even think about them. Even now it doesn't seem necessary or wrong. It was Dave. He felt safe and I just wanted him inside me. I wanted his cum. Is that all right?"

Asking forgiveness or permission after the fact when I was caught up in the lust was probably unfair. With an iron hard cock, what could I say? "Yes, it's perfect."

"I spread my legs for him and spread my pussy lips for him so he could see I was ready for him. 'Please, fuck me, Dave,' I whispered to him."

I liked to have her ask for it in our fantasies to use her fictional lover's name. Here she was operationalizing the fantasy.

"Did he then?"

"Yes, he kneeled between my legs and sat back a bit on his haunches. He pulled me close and draped my legs over his thighs, laying that cock across my belly. I could feel his balls pressed into my bottom. I swear that cock was the size of my forearm. I stroked my hands over him and over my own belly. I rubbed more glistening clear pre-cum over his tip and licked my fingers clean. He lifted my hips at will with the power of his legs under mine and his hands around my bottom. He positioned his cock at my entrance. He used the crown to paint my wetness even more thoroughly from top to bottom of my slit and across my outer lips. His thumb stroked the nub of my clit, but gently, teasingly so, not like he was trying to bring me off immediately."

"He knows how to draw out the moment," I offered.

"Yes, it was a delicious moment. Knowing he was going to fuck me. Feeling his cock at my pussy lips and wanting him inside my cunt. He pushed forward and I curled my spine to meet him. My pussy felt hot and the blood was pounding in my throat, you know how you can sometimes feel your pulse as much as hear it? My blood was roaring in my ear. He slipped inside me. I could feel him stretching me but it wasn't painful. It felt full or fulfilling. It felt complete. He was buried inside me, gently rocking back and forth at first."

"Your first big cock, your first lover."

"Is it still what you want? I was impaled on his cock, legs wrapped over his and hips elevated. Can you picture me on Dave's cock?"

"Yes."

"Is it a good picture?"

"Yes, the best." Like most men I like the modern convenience of readily available graphic pornography. I like looking at naked women. But my vision of naked women had evolved. Yes, I appreciated beautiful models, but I even more like transposing my wife into the scene, into the same blatantly sexual poses, wearing the same lingerie or into the same strange setting. I liked imagining it was my wife with the male models in couple shoots. It was very easy to imagine how she looked with Dave earlier tonight in Miami. To which I added, "I wish I was there to see it in person."

This threesome or witness version of events had crept into our pillow talk fueled by pictorals and cuckold stories. There was the word, cuckold. I'd told her I wanted her to make me her cuckold. And now she had. I'd always lustily devoured her willingness to make up fictional lovers, but now I somehow knew this was truth not fiction. It is what I had dreamed of, often and repeatedly. I was enjoying her retelling of the tale. I was naked, in bed and rock hard. My cock was almost painfully hard, pre-cum flowing. Lori was fueling my fantasies and I found hearing about it, great as that was, was not enough. I did want to be there, to see in person my wife take another man. Successful completion didn't exhaust or satisfy the fantasy. It only fueled it more.