Permission Ch. 01

"No, but while we were dancing (and I don't mind telling you that all my friends were watching) he did have to help me stand up. And he talked:"

"My little Angel [yes, he called me that], after I asked one of the other girls for your name, and asked your boss if she'd bend the rules and let you have a dance in thanks for bailing me out, one of the other girls came over and told me a bit more about you. She told me that I am a part of a 'little agreement' between you and your husband. Then she told me about the agreement. Now don't go into another one of your deep pink shows. I understand. Just tell me if she was telling me the truth."

"I, I, I...We NEVER thought I'd even be in the same room with you..."

"But you are, and you're in my arms."

"I know, but she shouldn't have told you. I love Paul."

"Paul is your husband, I assume. Of course you love him. And I assume he loves you. And I'd never do anything to spoil that. But you should never be ashamed of your dreams."

"That's when I backed off and told him, 'I need to sit down.' He immediately walked me to my table. But his last words to me were:

"Angelina, I'm no more than human, and very proud that a sweet, lovely woman like you would include me in her fantasies. I live in a world where fantasies can sometimes become reality."

* * * * *

So, now it was a week later, and the impossible may have been about to happen. Angelina had returned to work on Friday to even more kidding, but full of secret pride that Sean Faulkner had danced with her and knew her special fantasy. And she also had in her heart the knowledge that I had said yes.

Yes, I had.

How could I say anything else? First of all, this was all impossible. And second of all, if I'd said no, while Angelina would probably have accepted it, something big would have come between us. How do you block your wife's greatest dream, even if it is a sexual one that doesn't involve you? Especially if, after thinking abut it, you realize that it carries more promise than threat. There was never any threat that sean Faulkner would steal my loving wife from me. I did trust her. And if, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, she managed an adventure with him, I knew my Angelina well enough to be sure that her gratitude to me would result in benefits I'd never dared dream of.

So I'd said yes.

Meanwhile, TV tabloid shows reported the presence of the Great Man in our area, marveling at how this famously private actor could shoot scenes as required, then somehow evade paparazzi and gossip mongers and disappear to some as yet undiscovered retreat somewhere in the area.

Then the phone call came. It was Tuesday evening, after dinner, and Daniela and Rose were, as usual ensconced in their room, busy with homework. I answered the phone, and even I knew that voice immediately. I admit I felt a chill. He got right down to brass tacks. He told me who he was, as if that was in question, then asked me what my wife had told him about the CCG. "Tell me everything. It's important." So I did. "Good," he said. "If she had left out anything important, I'd end this right here and ask you to explain why. But what I need to know now is, did you and do you stand behind your agreement?

One last chance to back out, huh? And if I tell him the truth, will he consider me a fool? Well, I cared more about what my delicious little wife, (right at that moment totally unaware, watching Wheel of Fortune in the next room) thought. So I told him the truth, and quickly said, "I love her too much to stand between her and her dream. I hope you understand. It's not that I don't care, but that I care that much."

"Understood and respected, Paul. And I want you to know that your wife's physical and emotional health and the health of your marriage will never be threatened by anything I do. That's why I waited a few days before moving forward. I had to do some research. I hope you don't mind, but this way I know who I'm dealing with.

"In a minute, I'd like to talk to Angelina, but first I need from you a verbal promise. My research tells me I don't need paper with you. But you must know that what happens in the next few days involving me and your wife remains forever between us, and by us I include you. I wouldn't ask her to keep secrets from you, but you must tell no one else, before or after."

"Understood and respected. Take care of my wife. And please try not to disappoint her. I don't want her to be hurt. If she's hurt, all bets and all promises are off."

"How can anyone be sure he hasn't disappointed a woman? But I promise I'll try. Now, will you please put her on?"

* * * * *

I walked with the cordless phone into the bedroom, where my doll sat up in bed, smelling sweetly of bath salts, wearing her usual fluffy terry robe loosely tied and watching the TV. Her knees were drawn up and to the side, greeting me with a view of silky thighs and a little strip of pale pink panty peeking out between them. I said, "You have a phone call." She looked up. "Some old guy named Sean." She might've been mounted on springs. She bounced up onto her knees and reached her left hand toward me for the phone, staring into my eyes. As she bounced up, the robe popped open and there before me were those wonderful, perfect breasts, the rosy nipples already erect, whether from the sudden cooler air or her sudden arousal. I smiled, then nodded. She knew what the nod meant. Silently she mouthed "thank you," and took the phone.

I couldn't leave. Not that I wanted to listen in. It was her reaction I had to see. I was actually, God help me, thrilled for her -- thrilled that my Angelina might before long get to be in bed with a world-famous hunk. And I was, as usual, mesmerized by the rosy glow of embarrassment that spread across her chest, right out to her nipples.

Angelina managed to compose herself and sit back down, but this time with her legs spread wide and the robe open, I sat at her feet and began to lightly stroke her calves, up to the backs of her knees, as they talked. Actually, I'm afraid my sweet wife couldn't find it in her to talk much. She just listened, repeating a few things that he was saying, and managing a question here and there. What she did manage, however, either oblivious to me or with me in mind, was to hold the phone with her left hand, while her right one plunged deeply into her panties and began a rapid fingering. In seconds, I heard the slosh, slosh of a very wet pussy. I looked up, and her eyes were closed, so I gently lifted her hand out, against some resistance, and sucked her sweet juices from three soaked fingers. She couldn't wait, and shoved the hand back in.

Now, if I have one special talent as a lover, it's the great joy I get from sucking on that soft, swollen pussy. And My wife was presenting me with the perfect offer. So I reached both my hands behind her little butt cheeks, gripped the top elastic of her panties, and lifted her ass off the bed, sliding the panties off before she knew what I was doing. Angelina's only response was to shiver slightly, move toward me on the bed and arch her pelvis up, letting it speak for itself. So there I was. As My wife was on the phone planning to seduce or be seduced by Sean Faulkner, I was burying my face in her warm, inviting snatch, drinking in the scents and tropical juices as if I were the cause of her arousal.

Every time I get to spend quality time with my face buried between those soft thighs, it's like a brand new wonder. Angie keeps just a little tuft of soft pubic hair in a V shape above her slot, pointing to an otherwise waxed clean pair of soft, very smooth lips. And she responds to sex instantly, the mons puffing out, the inner lips swelling and deepening to a passionate pink and the waters flowing as if from some magical wellspring. But the best part is that little, shiny headed bald guy who lives under her hood, and perks up like a playful puppet whenever his surroundings heat up. If I'm not clear enough, she's got a shiny headed clitoris that pokes itself out and demands its fair share of sucking. And the more I suck on it, the more juices flow, the more my woman twists and pulls my face into her. My God, it's a joy never to be missed!

Thank God Angie's not a screamer, because in the circumstances, she couldn't even wait till the call was over, and while (or maybe because) Sean's voice was still in her ear, she began her sharp little spasms and "ungh. ungh" sounds, covering the mouthpiece as she did so, that to me said clearly, orgasm.

Then, as if on signal, the call was over, and my wife was looking down at me, with, if possible, more love than ever. She cradled my head between her hands and pulled me up to her face to kiss me deeply. Tasting her cum on my tongue, she then continued to lick around my lips, my chin and out to the tip of my nose, savoring the fluids of her own cunt from my face.

By this point, I hope I don't have to say that I had a hard-on that was crying out for a warm place to snuggle into. And in my new position, I began to press it against Angelina's still damp pussy. But she wasn't helping. Instead, she pulled my head away, and said, "Sorry, Paul. You're gonna have to be a little patient."

"WHAT?"

"You know how much more you enjoy a meal when you're truly hungry? Well, I'm a little afraid that I'm gonna freeze up when I'm with Sean. I want to be hungry. Know what I mean?"

Unfortunately, I did. I was hungry as hell, but some other guy was gonna get to eat my food. "Well, can't I at least get a little head, or even a hand? I'm gonna turn purple down there."

"Paul, what you just did to me shouldn't even have happened, but I have admit you that I closed my eyes and imagined it was someone else, if you know what I mean. What with Sean in my ear the whole time. So from now until 'afterward,' no more hanky panky between us, not even a little hanky. Sorry. But I swear you won't be sorry later."

And that was it. Boy was I cursing myself out. On the other hand, my wife was about as happy as I'd seen her, and that was worth an awful lot.

* * * * *

For the next hour, Angelina rushed about, picking out a dance outfit and a bathing suit to bring. She'd just opened her panty drawer, and I was about to leave, unable to watch, when the phone rang again. She picked it up before I realize I hadn't returned the cordless to its cradle, and listened very briefly, at first looking a bit puzzled, then grinning. Then she hit the button and sat on the bed.

"OK, I don't have to worry about packing. The limo's picking me up tomorrow evening at seven and taking me to the train. The train will take me to another limo which will take me to where Sean is staying. And I'm to wear casual clothes, and bring nothing else."

Huh?

"Oh, get that silly look off your face, Paul. Early tomorrow morning, before I leave for work at CoBRA, someone will arrive here to take a little of my blood. I guess I know what that's for."

"Yeah, just don't bother saying it."

And whoever comes will also measure me for a custom wardrobe, which will be waiting for me when I get there, as will a toothbrush, scents, bath soaps, and whatever I need, and I'll be able to keep it all."

"Does Sean think he has to seduce you?"

"No, but he's rolling in dough, and he knows how to spend it on a lady." That put me in my place.

It took me a little while to collect myself. Then I finally said, "You know, Sugarbuns, it wasn't exactly easy for me to say yes to this. But I love you and I trust you, and I don't think I could ever give you anything else that would make up for my saying no."

At this point, my Angelina was snuggling up to me and there were tears in her eyes.

"All I ask of you is that when this is over, it's really over, except in your memory. And that you tell me everything...Everything that happens to you and everything that you do and feel. You can't tell anyone else, and I know you'll be bursting. I promise that whatever happens, as long as you've truly come back to me, I'll not only live with it, but be deeply happy for you."

She was looking into my eyes and weeping openly. "I know how hard it must be, Honey. But I just have to do this thing. I promise you will know everything as soon as I come back. And how could I not come back to a man like you?

* * * * *

The morning's preparations were done as planned, with one addition. While drawing a tube of Angelina's blood, the med. tech. produced a certificate and showed it to both of us. It confirmed that, as of two days earlier, the man in question was free of all STDs.

At seven that evening, a black limo pulled up and its driver came to the door. Then, after she'd told the girls to "be good with Daddy. Mommy has a meeting to go to. I'll miss you till Sunday," I watched my little prize walk down to the limo, dressed in a white silk top and knee length red silk skirt over bare legs. I was careful not to know what was underneath. Then it was just an infinity of waiting.

* * * * *

Angelina was, thank God, true to her word. By Sunday evening, she was home and glowing, dropped off by the same limo driver. And all she wanted to do was talk. And I think the best way to go on with this is to transcribe for you, with minor corrections, the recording I made of her story. I did it on digital video discs, so I'd always remember not only her words, but her look. I figured it wasn't really violating any agreement with Faulkner because, first of all, no one else would ever see it, and secondly, it wasn't backed up with any proof. It might as well have been my wife's pipe dream beginning to end.

So, go ahead, Sweetheart, and tell us what happened:

Well, it was almost a disaster from the start. The limo driver got me to the train, gave me a ticket and saw me on. But the ride was over an hour, and it was after 7:30 when the train left. You know how I get when I'm hungry -- I start to drift off. But this time, after about a half hour, with the vibrations from the tracks, and with what was on my mind, it was more than simple drifting off.

By that time, there were only a few people in my car , and it was dark out. I'd settled against the window, with an empty seat beside me and empties across the aisle. And I kept remembering Sean's strong arms and hard body as we danced last week. You know how sexy I can get, Hon. Soon I could feel moisture between my thighs. I was afraid I'd leave a spot on my good silk skirt, so I slid it from below my ass and settled against the cool plastic seat.

But that wasn't enough. The more the train vibrated, the more turned on I got, so I let myself imagine that Sean was already there beside me, and I slid my right hand between the window wall of the train and my upper thigh, and slipped my fingers under the lower elastic of my panties. Boy, was I wet. I love when I get like that! Two fingers slid into my pussy and my thumb found my clit, which was up and hard as usual. I closed my eyes, and just enjoyed a good hand job. Slipping and plunging knuckle deep, my clitoris popping back and force across the soft pad of my thumb. And my body hid what I was up to from anyone who might pass by. I even snuck my fingers out and tasted my cum, before sneaking them back in. It was sweet, and exciting because it was sort of public.

Meanwhile, with my eyes still closed, and my head back, I imagined that it was Sean beside me, with his hand under my skirt. Then came the shock. Softly, my left hand, which had been resting on my left leg, on the silk of my skirt, was lifted. And before I could realize that this was real, it had been pulled about a foot or so to the left, under a newspaper. My eyes popped open, and I was looking at a young man, in his early twenties, quite handsome in fact, who had apparently sat softly down beside me, and was holding my left hand firmly in his right one. I didn't immediately grasp what was going on. It was too strange, and too like and at the same time unlike my dream, but almost immediately, what I did grasp was a hard cock.

Under the newspaper in his lap, this seemingly normal guy had his cock out and he was quite erect, and he had placed my left hand, palm down, on it. I tried to pull back, but he held tight and began to move my hand up and down the length of his thing. And he whispered to me, "You don't want to attract attention to what you're doing, do you?" And he glanced down toward my left thigh. That was when I realized, for the first time, that when I'd hiked up my skirt, I'd left the bottom of my thigh fully exposed, right up to my panties. And to make it worse, a bit of a puddle had seeped from below the thigh.

Thank goodness I thought quickly. I yanked my hand away and hissed, "Do you want to embarrass a pregnant woman with a bladder problem?" And I quickly rose, letting my skirt return to where it belonged. Then I spotted this guy's sweater around his neck. I grabbed it, said, "Oh, thank you," and pushed it hard into the pool that I'd left behind on my seat. I quickly headed for the end of the car, where the conductor was sitting. As I glanced back over my shoulder, I saw the guy trying to fix his pants. I bit later, he walked up the car past me, making a show of sniffing the sweater, Then he quickly leaned up to me and whispered, "Dollface, that's no pee on that sweater." I just smiled up at him and shrugged.

As soon as he'd passed into the next car, I slipped into the car's restroom, I was afraid I was leaving a spot on my skirt, so I stepped out of my soaked panties and put them into a zip lock bag I always keep in my purse. Then I returned to my seat, all too aware that I'd better keep my legs together.