My Wife as a Birthday Present Ch. 01

The semester was nearly over and my wife Nancy and her classmates were working on small group projects instead of meeting as a class. To the disappointment of her heterosexual male classmates John, Arthur, Jerry, and Dean, she was placed in a work-group with three other women and the gay man. It was just as well. She and her project-mates managed to work without distractions and actually got something done.

John called her on a Friday night (preceding the final Wednesday night class when the groups were to make their oral reports) and invited her to a birthday party for Dean the following night. He said the four guys from the class and maybe another couple of friends would meet at a bar near the university. Could she join them? It was a mostly-guy occasion and might get a little raunchy, he warned.

She said she’d like to come but had a slight worry. “A friend” (meaning me, of course) could drive her the twenty miles to the bar, but how would she get back? If there were going to be a lot of drinking, would anyone be sober enough to drive? John said he didn’t plan to drink much, that in fact he hardly ever did, so he’d be able to drive her home (with the usual double meaning of the term, of course). So she said she’d be there.

On Saturday I grew more and more excited as the time to take my wife to Dean’s birthday party neared. She was obviously looking forward to it, too. She took a shower and began getting dressed at around 7:30. I helped towel her off and marveled yet again at the near perfection of her body; at 5 feet 4 inches and about 110 pounds, Nancy is slender but with high, well-shaped breasts and a marvelous ass. It was the second week in December and very cold, but Nancy decided (with my prompting as I lay back on our bed watching her get ready) to put on a pair of black skin-tight ski pants she’d just bought. She wore no panties under them, of course. She began rummaging through her sweater drawer and, as I watched her wearing only those ski pants that showed off her perfect little ass, I developed a hard-on.

I got up from the bed, walked up behind her, and wrapped my arms around my wife from behind. I gently caressed her small firm breasts and felt her erect nipples press against the palms of my hands. When I kissed her neck, she straightened up and, reaching behind her, ran her fingers through my hair. I moved my right hand down over her taut belly and into the front of her ski pants. Moving my hand lower, I paused to appreciate the unique texture of slightly moist pubic hair. Then I slid my hand down a little lower to her cunt and inserted my index finger gently inside her.

Laughing, she removed my hand and twisted away from me. “Don’t do that now, Cal. I don’t want you making me wet down there. I’ll have to wear panties if you do.”

I returned to the bed and lay back down. Noticing my erection under my sweat pants, Nancy stopped fiddling around with sweaters and joined me on the bed. “I guess I’d better take care of that before we go,” she said. At that, she pulled my pants down and freed my cock. Then she knelt on the floor by the bed and, holding my hard-on in her left hand, began kissing and licking my balls. I reached out with my right hand and cupped her ass. Soon she was doing what she knows I dearly love: jacking me off as she sucked my balls. She kept this up relentlessly for about five minutes until I said I was about to cum. When she saw that I was right on the verge, she took my cock into her mouth and finished me off with a brief but wonderful blow job. I shot semen way up into her throat and she swallowed every drop.

She rested her head against my belly, gathering her breath. Then she smiled at me and said, “I know you like seeing me with other guys, but aren’t you glad that’s something I only do with you? I mean that and fucking?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to fuck guys like Arthur and Nick, guys with really big cocks?” I asked.

“Of course I’m not sure. Sometimes I think about having those giant penises inside me.” She was silent for a moment, as though remembering something. Then she continued. “I had one or two big-cocked guys before I met you, you know. But I can’t even remember now what they felt like. I know one guy I fucked in high school was way too big. It hurt when he fucked me.”

She’d told me about him before. He was a football player and they’d fucked at his parents’ house after a game. She said his cock must have been about nine inches long and he’d rammed it right inside her without any foreplay.

Nancy resumed getting ready for the birthday party. “What do you think of this one?” she asked. She held up a tan sweater with buttons up the front.

“It’ll be fine so long as you don’t button it too high,” I said. “You know how much guys love looking down your top.”

She put it on and turned around to face me. The top three buttons were undone. “I hope it’s warm inside the bar. I’d hate to have my nipples getting too hard and showing through the sweater too much.” She said this as though she meant it, but she was joking, of course. She’s a committed exhibitionist if there ever was one.

“It looks good,” I said, “but maybe a little too tight. One of your looser sweaters shows more tit when you lean forward.”

So she took off the light tan sweater and put on a purplish sweater that was maybe two sizes larger. The material was pretty thin and it had a deep V-neck. Placing both hands on the bed, she bent forward and asked me how much I could see.

“Well,” I answered, “I can see part of your left breast and all of your right one. I can see that delicious nipple that Arthur was sucking on three weeks ago. You know, the one that Nick played with during the video shoot until it was almost half an inch long.”

She stood up and laughed. “You’ve had my tits in your mouth for several years now. You don’t begrudge the others a little nibble now and then, do you?”

More teasing talk. She knew I loved watching other guys not only seeing parts of my wife they weren’t supposed to see but touching her, sucking her, fingering her. (As she had just pointed out, so far she had refused to fuck anyone else or give actual blow jobs – a little cock nibbling was OK with her, but she refused to take a strange cock in her mouth).

In fact (as those who’ve read my other reports know), my strong interest in seeing her with other guys had led me to drill a peephole between the hallway closet and the living room. Through it I can watch my wife in action with various guys in the living room. And I’d be sure to be watching her, discreetly of course, at the bar later that night whether or not anyone came home with her. Ours is the perfect marriage of exhibitionist and voyeur.

When Nancy pulled on a pair of warm boots and went into the bathroom to do her make-up, I got up and threw on a pair of baggy pants and a sweater. None of her classmates knew what her supposedly estranged husband (that’s me) looked like, but I figured it was a good idea to dress as inconspicuously as possible to blend in with the other bar patrons.

I dropped Nancy at the bar, a pizza-and-beer place called Curley’s, at around 9:45. The party was supposed to start at 9:00 o’clock but we thought we’d give the guys a head start. I watched Nancy, wearing her long winter coat, enter the place before parking the car a half a block away and walking carefully (to keep from slipping on patches of ice on the sidewalk) back to the bar.

It was fairly crowded and noisy inside. Dean’s wasn’t the only gathering in Curley’s. Families, those who’d come for pizza, had left some time ago and now it was more or less a bar for adults. I noticed a few women, none as good-looking as Nancy.

As I suspected would be the case, my wife was the only woman in the birthday-party group. She had draped her heavy coat over a nearby railing and was sitting facing me -- I’d found a seat at the bar between two other lone patrons -- next to short and muscular Dean. Dean had his right arm draped over her shoulders. Receding-hairline Jerry and tall Arthur were seated at the right side of the table with their bodies sideways to me. Handsome-enough-to-be-a-model John wasn’t there (which surprised me since he’d promised to give Nancy a ride home), but three other guys I’d never seen before were. Two had their backs to me and the third, a bookish-looking red-headed kid who looked too young to be drinking anything stronger than Coca-Cola, was sitting on the other side of Nancy. I noticed that the kid kept his eyes riveted on the V-neck of her sweater. He’d probably already gotten a glimpse of Nancy’s breasts and was trying to get another, maybe a better, look at them. At the very least, he’d seen enough to figure out that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Three pitchers of beer and numerous mugs were on the table. In the first twenty minutes that I was there, those at Dean’s table drained the three pitchers and had three more delivered to their table. I noticed that Nancy only sipped from her mug while the others drank a lot quickly. Even the relatively reserved Arthur was putting it away pretty fast.

Over the next hour or so the guys got louder and drunker. Dean had taken his right arm from my wife’s shoulders and now rested it on her legs. The red-headed kid sitting to her right had pulled his chair closer to her. She had to ask him once to move his chair so she could get out to go the rest room. As she stood up from the table with her back to Dean, she leaned forward (to get her balance, it seemed) and gave the kid a good look down her V-neck. Even from where I was sitting I could see most of her right breast as the top of the sweater fell open. But the kid had her breasts just inches from his face and obviously got a good look at least one of her nipples. Naturally, as she walked to the rest room, all the guys at her table (and many others in the room) had their eyes fixed on her ass. The ski pants clung to the perfect little swelling of her ass cheeks like tights.

When she returned to the table a few minutes later (shooting me a sly smile on her way there), she had, or pretended to have, some difficulty getting past the young guy’s chair back to her chair. She had to lean way forward again, this time towards Dean, and for a few seconds her delectable ass was right in the kid’s face. Dean, with the spontaneity that comes from being drunk, did something then that endeared him greatly to the table. He reached up and pulled the front of Nancy’s sweater down several inches to expose her breasts fully to the guys sitting to his left. She was slow to react but eventually reached up with her left hand (she was still leaning forward on the table supporting her weight on her right arm) and struggled with Dean for a few seconds for control of her V-neckline. It was a good-natured tussle, my wife laughing while pretending to be annoyed, and at one point she fell backwards slightly against the kid. Instinctively, he reached up to catch her and got handfuls of my wife’s ass for his reward. If there was any question in his mind about whether or not she was wearing panties, this wonderful tactile experience must have answered it.

My wife settled in again between Dean (who was laughing uproariously) and the kid (who had a very serious expression on his face). Just then, I noticed John walking toward their table. I hadn’t seen him enter the bar. In fact, I had given up on him and had resigned myself to figuring out some way to drive Nancy home since none of the guys she was with were halfway sober.

John got an empty mug from the bar and sat down at the table between the kid and one of the other guys I didn’t know. He pour some beer from one of the pitchers into his mug and I found myself worrying about whether or not he would be good to his word not to drink much. He said something to Nancy and, standing up, she leaned across the table, embraced him, and gave him a big kiss. He stood up, too, and his body got in the way of my seeing down her V-neck as it fell open, but I knew the two unknown guys sitting to his right must have been able to. Nancy then straightened up abruptly and, turning to Dean, shouted “Damn it, Dean!” and began swatting him playfully on the head. Obviously, he had patted her ass or maybe even goosed her while she was bending forward. Her outburst had caused everyone in the bar to look over at Dean’s table, but all they saw was my wife briefly abusing a man then sitting down next to him as everyone had a good laugh.

The jollity continued for another half hour or so before John, who had only drunk the one glass of beer, said something about it being time to take Nancy home. I could just make out remarks about it being too early for her to go and what a lucky bastard John was. Then I think someone said maybe they could all go with John. Unclear-headed discussion ensued, the gist of which was that John’s car was too small for everyone but that maybe Dean could ride along. By now, everyone was standing up and I wondered if the others intended to follow John’s car in other vehicles. I hoped not. It was a twenty- mile drive over patchy ice and the cops had been on the lookout for drunk drivers.

I got up from the bar then (I’d had only one alcoholic beer and several O’Doul’s), left the bar, and went back to the car. I double-parked across the street from Curley’s (idling the engine, waiting for it to warm up so I could turn on the heater) and watched for my wife and her friends to emerge. About ten minutes later, after several other customers had exited, the front door opened and Arthur, Jerry, and the guys I didn’t know roiled out on to the pavement. They milled around a few seconds then Jerry held the door open as Dean stumbled through the door carrying Nancy, wearing her heavy coat, in his arms as though she were his new bride. Behind them came John and the young man.

Dean set Nancy down and, standing behind her, bear-hugged her. John took off to get his car in the parking lot next to the bar and Arthur, Jerry, and the others stood around with Dean, Nancy, and the kid for a few minutes before walking up the street presumably to their vehicles. The kid, coatless, stood next to Dean hunched up against the cold. Evidently, the three of them were waiting for John to bring the car around.

John’s car pulled up in front of the bar a few minutes later and the kid got in the front seat with John while Dean and my wife climbed into the back seat. (I wondered who was this kid, anyway. Well, I knew I’d find out later.)

I wasted no time then. I got on the interstate and drove as fast as safety would allow back to our house. I parked the car around the corner and let myself in through the patio door. After pissing out all the O’Doul’s I’d drunk, I turned up the gas heat a little and checked out the refrigerator. There was most of a twelve-pack of beer left, enough to entertain her guests for a little while – as though my wife weren’t entertainment enough.

Then I took off all my clothes except a T-shirt and checked the hall closet for supplies: a pissing jar, a water bottle, a roll of paper towels. I was ready to watch and listen to whatever might happen in the living room -- and maybe get off on it.

I wondered about the odd threesome that would be stopping by: John, the handsome married guy who’d already been pretty intimate with my wife (fingerfucking her to orgasm); Dean, also married, who’d never seen her completely naked though he’d gotten plenty of looks at her breasts down blouses and sweaters; a somewhat nerdy-looking kid, somehow attached to Dean, who’d been ogling my wife’s body all evening. Sitting on the living room couch in the dark, thinking about the relatively innocent fooling around at Curley’s and waiting for them to show up, I was beginning to get excited. It had been hours since Nancy had sucked me off and my cock was getting hard again thinking about what might take place right where I was sitting within the next hour.