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Stephen had switched off the light and lay on his back staring up to the ceiling that of course he couldn't see. He began thinking of some of the great nights of athletic activity they'd had in that very bed when he felt his pecker rising. He touched it. It greeted his warm hand enthusiastically, swelling. He thought why waste it so turned into Elaine, draping an arm hopefully over her stomach. She pulled his hand away – at first he thought in rejection. But no, she clasped it over a boob and imprisoned his hand.
Stephen held his breath, waiting for her next move but she lay listless and he couldn't hear her breathing. What was this? He moved his fingers and hit a brick. Actually it was a nipple, hard as frozen rubber. He tweaked it...and wham! Elaine turned and heaved up on to her knees, tossing the bedclothes back, straddled him and the next thing he knew had her lips around his erection.
Was this Elaine!
She shuffled her butt back up over his face and although the room was dark something dripped on to Stephen's neck, indicating a moist pussy was hovering. All he had to do was to lift his head.
He lifted his head, greatly interested.
Stephen heard Elaine climbing into the bath and thought of the difference between the two women. Tonight Elaine had looked younger and more vivacious than she'd looked for quite a long time and in bed over the past twenty or so minutes had behaved like a tigress. He compared that behavior to his lady friend (mistress) Bernice who was almost eight year's Elaine's junior. Over recent months Bernice had put on weight and complained about that while eating bigger meals. She no longer liked playing tennis with him and refused to race in the pool like she used to. Sex with Bernice had also taken a bit of a dive because she now preferred to stay with Missionary, complaining that her back hurt in most other positions. She was lazy and looking more like her aged Italian mother – a little ugly.
Deciding that he'd been rather neglecting Elaine who remained, in essence, just like the charming lover he'd married, Stephen thought Elaine really had it all over Bernice, especially now his lady friend's ardor was cooling. Tonight Elaine had been on fire.
Stephen got out of bed, tapped his cock up a little to a more respectable size and went into the bathroom. He grunted, "Mind if I get in with you? Delight fired across his wife's face. He couldn't remember seeing that look on her face for quite some time.
"Yes darling, please do."
He pushed the tap spout aside and looking at her glistening wet breasts felt his cock stir.
As he turned and faced Elaine, she focused on his cock, now at least at quarter-mast.
"Oooh, do you think you could get that up again? I'd like to go another round."
She giggled. Yes, giggled.
He slid down and she moved to make room for him as she'd done over the years, although no much in recent years as there'd been fewer exhibitions of such closeness.
She reached for his cock and said, "Here – let me wash my mess from this dear guy."
Stephen felt his face redden and he said, almost shyly, "I don't regard it as mess" and was rewarded with a gentle squeeze. He brainstormed and the thought came to him like a lightening strike.
"Would you like to go to Florida before the real rush begins and perhaps cruise into the Caribbean?"
"A cruise?" she shrieked, clambering up with difficulty, which was understandable, and climbing on to him.
To be Continued
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 11 years agoIf your goal was to write a story about three of the most self centered, ball busting, ego shrinking, manipulative women on this site then, congratulations! You succeeded. And Mollie is leading the way. These women are not interested in their men, but in what they can do to control those men and push them in the direction that the women approve of. If Gary has ANY sense, he will move across the country immediately and work for a company that he's happy with, not in the slave pen created by his Grandmother, Mother and Mollie. RUN BOY, RUN!
Anonymousabout 16 years agostory, but a very erotic one also. I love the way the women are dressing for their men, however; I do not agree with the author that they are controlling or plotting their men. Both parties should be treated as equals. How would they feel if the table was turned on them, which I hope it will be.
