Tapas

Another installment in a continuing saga - earlier stories were "Thin Ice", "A Slippery Slope", "Leftovers" and "A Special Occasion". Again, this one has a strong element of wife sharing and cuckoldry so please only read further if that's something you're interested in.

Thanks for all the feedback, I do appreciate hearing from everyone.

As always, the characters are adults and are totally fictitious.

*****

It was almost one when he heard her car in the driveway. He hadn't been waiting up, not exactly, but he hadn't fallen asleep either. It was like this whenever she was out late. Pangs of uncertainty (where was she? when would she be home? would she come home tonight at all?) made sleep a difficult proposition. If she didn't come home, it meant a long night of fitful dozing and an exhausted slog the next day.

He had asked her once if she could send him a text to let him know when or even if she was coming home but she didn't think that was necessary.

"Just go to sleep when you're tired," she had told him. "It won't bother me."

As if.

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see her. Chatting and laughing in a crowd of men. Body swaying as she danced in somebody's arms, tipping her head back to receive a kiss. Or else naked, strange hands exploring her body while she ground down, a cock deep inside her.

It wasn't exactly lullaby material.

He would lie awake in an agony of anticipation, his cock like a rock. He would try not to jack off, wanting to save it up until she got home and they could fuck.

There. He heard her key in the front door and turned to face the wall, trying to make his breathing as regular as possible. Her shoes clicked in the hallway then died away into the kitchen or the downstairs bathroom. Finally he heard the pad of her bare feet mounting the stairs.

She paused in the open bedroom door, then went across to her walk-in closet. The light clicked on inside and there was the rustle of a dress, then the muffled snap of elastic. The light went off again and in a moment she was in bed with him, her warm body pressing up against his back, her hand snaking into the waistband of his shorts, gripping him.

"You weren't really asleep, were you?" she whispered.

He rolled over into her arms and inhaled her, filled himself with the scent of her. Her mouth was warm and soft against his. "God," he murmured.

Her hands pushed down his shorts and she moved her face down his body, kissing his chin, his neck, his chest. When the shorts came off and her mouth engulfed him, he almost exploded right away but caught himself in time, squeezing her shoulders. "Oh my God," he said again. The pressure of her tongue against his cock and the warm wetness of her mouth made him feel as if he were actually fucking her cunt. His hips rocked and he tugged on her arms. "I want to be inside you," he whispered.

She released his cock and clambered up his body. The warmth of skin against skin sent a dizzy rush through him. His hands roamed over her, shoulders, back, ass, then went back up to shoulders. She straddled him, then lowered herself on his cock.

With no condom. He could have wept with joy and relief, the feeling was so intense. Her lover had insisted that she wear a condom with him, her husband. And now here he was, naked inside her. She leaned down and kissed him, her mouth still warm and wet from giving him head. His hands gripped her shoulders and his hips thudded upward, driving his cock into her.

She drew her thighs together, squeezing his body between her knees while her hips rocked slowly, inexorably. Her mouth drew away from his and she stared down into his eyes. "Slowly," she murmured.

"I'm going to come," he croaked. "God."

"Just..." she began. Then she flung her face down into his shoulder, shuddering. Her teeth dug into his flesh and the sudden sensation drove him over some precipice. He howled her name, then moaned. He felt dizzy, almost sick and waves of heat surged through him. Just when it felt like it was all too intense, like his body was melting against hers, his cock erupted. The pleasure was unimaginable. He flung himself upwards, moaning.

"Oh God, yes," she murmured. "God."

He lay there under her, utterly spent, his breath coming in ragged gasps. She leaned down and kissed him again, gently. "That nice?" she asked.

"Jesus," he said. He gave her a wan smile. She wiggled her hips, then pushed herself up. He slipped out of her and she rolled to one side, lying with her body curled up next to him.

"Jesus," he said again.

--

Was it morning? He reached over to his night table for his phone and squinted at the brightness. Two forty-six.

Her side of the bed was empty. He lay there, thinking. Had it just been a dream, the amazing fucking? Was she still out there somewhere?

He listened. A noise from downstairs? He put down his phone and slid out from under the covers. His shorts were on the floor next to the bed. He pulled them on, then listened again. He crossed the room and opened the door. There was a lamp on in the living room. He went downstairs.

She was on the couch, wrapped in her sheer red robe, her legs pulled up, hugging her knees. She looked up when he came in.

"Did I wake you?" she asked. "I tried to be really quiet."

There was a mug on the coffee table. He sat down next to her and leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Hot chocolate?" he asked.

"Mmm," she said. "Want some?"

He lifted the mug and took a sip. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

"No..." she said. She turned her head and kissed him. "I love you," she said softly.

"Oh," he said. "Me too." He paused. "What's up?"

She didn't answer at first. "Okay," she said. "So." She sighed. "Tonight, I was going to meet..."

"Him," he said. "Ray."

"Yeah," she said. "That's right." She paused.

"It's fine," he said, maybe too quickly.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"No..." he said. "I mean. Thanks. But..."

"He bailed."

"What?"

"He sent me a text, something came up, he didn't say what."

He thought about this. What do you say when your wife's lover has stood her up? "I'm sorry," he said.

She laughed. "You don't have to be sorry," she said.

"Well..."

"That might be the last of Ray anyway," she said. "It might have run its course."

That explained it, he thought. No Ray, no condom.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said. "But..." She paused.

He waited. "But?"

"Something happened," she said softly.

He lifted his head. She was facing forward, not looking at him. There was a clock on the mantelpiece and he was suddenly aware of the sound it made. a rhythmic, monotonous tock-tock-tock. Her hair was a little tousled and her lips were parted. His mouth had gone dry.

"What?" he asked softly.

"After Ray texted, I was sitting by myself at one of those high tables," she said. "Thinking, well fuck him."

"Exactly," he agreed.

"I was just going to finish my drink and leave. Then this guy stops by my table, asks if he can join me."

"What kind of guy?"

"Bow-legged," she said. "Tangled mop of greasy white hair. Kind of smelly."

"What?"

She looked at him and laughed. "I'm kidding," she said. "He was, mmm. Well, good looking. Of course."

He slipped a hand under her robe, slid his fingers along the cool smooth flesh of her shoulder. "Tell me," he urged. "What did you say?"

She reached up and rested her fingers on his. "I told him I was on my way out, just about to leave."

There was a pause. "Then what?" he asked.

Her shoulder moved under his hand. "He sat down with me," she said. "And ordered us each another drink."

He leaned forward and she turned her face into his kiss. Her mouth was warm and sweet, her breath suffused with chocolate. "Tell me," he murmured.

But she didn't speak. Her mouth held onto his, her tongue pressing against his lips and his own tongue. One of her hands slid into his waistband and held him. He shuddered.

"What if..." she whispered. "What if I danced with him?"

He pushed her robe open, exposing her shoulders and freeing her breasts. His hands slid down her body.

"You did?" he asked. He felt stupid, as if all his blood were pooling in his loins, leaving him nothing to think with. He thrust into her hand.

"I might have," she said. "What if I did?"

"Dancing sounds fun," he said. She had her underwear on under her robe. He pushed a hand between her legs and into her panties then dipped his face forward for another chocolate kiss.

"I might have," she whispered again. "I might have..." She paused.

"What?" he asked.

"He might have pressed into me while we were dancing," she whispered. "With his cock. Against my belly."

There was wetness on his fingers, coming from inside her. Her moisture or his come? Both?

"Did it turn you on?" he asked.

"So much," she said. "God. So much." Her hips writhed, pushing her sex against his hand.

He slid off the couch and knelt in front of her. He tugged on her panties and she lifted herself up for a moment so he could drag them down her legs and off. He gripped her knees and pushed her thighs apart. The aroma of her sex was dizzying.

"Tell me," he said hoarsely. He leaned forward. The smell was too much, the come and her secretions overwhelming him.

Her fingers came down in front of him and found herself. Her hips rocked again.

"He kissed me," she said breathlessly. "While we were dancing. It was a slow dance. Oh God..." Her fingers were busy, caressing herself in front of him. "His hands were all over me. His cock was..." She moaned. "I put my hand in his pants," she whispered. "I jacked him off right there on the dance floor. I didn't care who saw me or what they thought."

"Did he come?" he asked.

"Not then," she said. She pushed her hips forward and took her hand away. "Lick her," she demanded.

He had a sudden idea. He reached over and dipped his hand into the mug of chocolate, lukewarm by now. He smeared her with chocolate, then leaned forward and began to lick. Her hips left the couch but he held onto her thighs, keeping them apart so he could access her with his tongue.

"God," she moaned. "Don't stop." Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Jesus."

He got some more chocolate and redoubled his efforts.

"Yes," she murmured. "Jesus. So good. Don't. Change. Anything."

But his mouth was getting tired. He tried resting for a moment and she gave a little frustrated whine.

His brain was starting to buzz, too, swirling with questions he was dying to ask, but was also afraid to ask. Questions like who? And how far?

His tongue darted out. She shrieked and gripped his hair. "God, God, God... come up here, I need you inside me."

Then he was on top of her, the two of them scrunched together on the couch. Her legs swung up around him and his cock, dribbling with pre-come, plunged into her.

"God yes!" she cried. "Fuck me. God yes yes yes fuck me God."

Had she really done that? With some guy she'd just met in a bar?

"Squeeze my ass," she commanded breathlessly. "Yes.., God..." Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

It was crazy sexy. But... He tried to focus and not get distracted. But... a guy in a bar?

She bucked underneath him and howled. "Yes!" she cried. "Oh God..." Her breath came in a rattle. "Oh..." She sank her face into his shoulder and clung to him. "That was amazing," she whispered.

"Yes," he agreed, but there was something wrong with his voice. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

She pulled her face away from his shoulder and stared up at him. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Didn't you come?"

He blinked. "I.." He trailed off.

The smell of his face, sex mixed with chocolate, was starting to overwhelm him. He ran a hand over his cheek, then pulled backward, out of her and rocked back onto his knees.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. "Tell me," she said.

He shook his head.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"No, no," he said. "I'm not mad."

She sat up. Her arms crossed in front of her chest. "You sound mad," she said.

"This guy," he burst out. "He was a total stranger?"

She didn't answer for a moment. "Yeah," she said.

"And you..."

"I gave him a hand job," she said. "Like a slut. Except I didn't get paid."

He glanced at her. "I didn't say that," he objected.

"You don't need to," she said. Her voice was hard. "Slutty is as slutty does." She picked up her robe and started threading her arms through the sleeves.

He felt a pang. "You're not slutty," he said.

She cut him a look from the corner of her eye. "No?"

"No," he insisted. "You're... sexy. The sexiest woman..."

"I think," she said. "I understand. When I act sexy and it's your idea, it's sexy. When it's my idea, it's slutty."

"No," he protested. "You're... Look, when you went with Ray..."

"That was your idea," she said flatly.

"You talked about him. How sexy he was."

"Yes," she retorted "That was hot talk. You were the one who said, and I quote, 'I want you to fuck him.' "

"Well you did it! You fucked him! You kept fucking him!"

"It was your idea!"

"You enjoyed it!"

"Well, excuse me! I thought that was the point of fucking! And it seems to me that for some unfathomable reason you enjoyed it too!"

She was crying now. He paused, feeling deflated. "Yes," he admitted. "I enjoyed it."

She looked at him. Her robe was hanging open, her breasts half hidden above her belly. He felt the familiar ache.

"I told you," he said thickly. "It's really sexy. It's the best, I've been more turned on these last few weeks than I ever have been before." He paused. "You really are the sexiest woman ever."

She hiccuped. "So what is different about tonight? For God's sake, I was in that bar to meet my lover and in case you were wondering, I was planning to go somewhere with him and we. Were. Going. To. Fuck!" She glared at him.

He nodded. His throat felt tight. "I know," he croaked.

"So? It's what I said - it's sexy when it's your idea and slutty when it's not!"

"No... listen." He gestured at his crotch. "To my cock, it's always sexy. Incredibly sexy. I get so turned on." He paused then pointed at his head. "Sometimes, though, my stupid brain gets all, confused. Jealous."

She laughed, not necessarily amused. "You guys need to get your act together," she said. "And figure out some sort of party line."

"That's the problem," he agreed. "I don't know, we don't always know, what we want."

There was a long pause. He heard the clock again, tock-tock-tock.

She sighed. "We shouldn't have started all this," she said sadly. "Can't we go back to how it was? Like we vowed it would be? Just me and you, nobody else, okay?"

He looked at her. There was a tiny furrow between her eyebrows, a tightness in the corners of her mouth. "No," he said faintly.

"No?"

"I don't want... to go back," he said. "It's been too... Jesus, we've had the best time ever..."

"It's not worth it," she told him. "Not if it makes you jealous. Your brain that is."

"It won't," he said. "I mean sometimes it will. But when you come home and tell me... it's so sexy."

She watched him, her expression unchanging.

"Really," he insisted. "You're the sexiest woman I've ever known. When you... tell me about your... adventures..." He paused. "is that the right word?"

"It fits," she said.

"I get really turned on," he said simply.

She sighed. "I know you do," she said. "But it's not worth it."

"I can take it," he told her.

She laughed. "That's ridiculous," she said "Why should you have to take it?"

"Because we both like it," he said.

She shook her head. "It's more complicated," she said.

"Listen," he said. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I was just... I don't know. It wasn't what I expected."

"Isn't that the point of adventures?" she asked. "They're unexpected?"

He leaned forward and kissed her.

"Yes," he said. "It is." He held her hand. "You need to tell me the rest of the story."

"What rest?"

"You said he didn't come white you were dancing."

She shook her head slowly.

"Then when?" he prompted.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"To prove it to you," he said. "That I can take it. Tell me. You were dancing, slow-dancing. He pressed into you. His cock."

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she said.

"What did you do?"

"I need you to tell me something," she said. "I need you to promise me that you're not going to get mad."

"About tonight?"

"Yeah," she said. "But also, I'm thinking more like, okay, he wants me to have adventures. I don't want you to turn around and throw them in my face."

"I won't," he said earnestly.

"No matter what?"

He paused. "No matter what," he said.

She stared at him.

"Really," he said. "I want you to be as sexy as you want to be, as you can be. I want you to be the fucking goddess of love." He licked his lips. "Just... make sure to share it with me."

She didn't answer. Her eyes were thoughtful, even, he thought, watchful. He cleared his throat.

"So he's pressing into you with his cock," he ventured.

There was a long pause. Tock-tock-tock

"I pressed back," she said.

"Pressed his cock with your belly?"

"Yes," she said.

"With your thighs?"

"Yes."

"Tell me," he said.

"I was rubbing against him. against his leg," she said.

"With your.." He left it hanging.

"Yea," she said. "Between my thighs." She paused. "Against my pussy."

"And you rubbed his cock. With your hand."

"Yes," she said.

He leaned forward and reached up to cradle her head white he kissed her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "That I was jealous."

"It's okay," she whispered back.

"It sounds amazing," he said. "Rubbing a cock while dancing." He paused. "A stranger's cock," he added.

She laughed. "It was amazing," she said. "It was like a dream. A really sexy dream."

He reached out and took her hand. "Touch me," he whispered. Her fingers stretched out and cupped him. He made a small sound.

"Is that how it felt?" he whispered. "His cock?"

She kissed him.

"What happened then?" he asked.

"Well," she said. "He wanted to stop dancing." She paused. "He wanted to come."

"Ah."

"I think he was close, out there on the dance floor... he suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me along. There was this balcony, a rope across the stairs, section closed, you know. We went up anyway, it was dark up there and he sat down and unzipped."

"What then?" be asked.

"I rubbed him," she said. "And he came."

"Show me," he urged. "Rub me like that."

She leaned forward and kissed him, her hand slowly moving up and down his shaft. "It was sort of like this," she whispered, then edged forward and settled herself on his thigh, straddling him. He could feel the warmth of her cunt against his leg. Her hand stroked him.

"Did you come too?" he asked. "When he did?" His breath was coming rapidly between gritted teeth.

She smiled and kissed him again. "Do you want to be inside me?" she asked.

"No," he panted. "Rub me... like him..."

She leaned in again and planted her mouth on his. He closed his eyes and saw her in the darkened balcony, her body arched forward as she drew her hand along the stranger's cock. Were they alone up there or were there other desperate couples scattered in the darkness?

His hips jerked violently and jets of white semen spurted out. She kept rubbing until he stopped moving, then released his mouth and smiled at him.

"That better?" she asked.

"God," he said.

--

He was sitting in his office at three o'clock the next afternoon, still thinking about the dance floor and the dark balcony. His cock kept getting hard and then he would force himself to think about something else, answer a few annoying emails. But his mind wanted to slip away to the darkness and his cock kept swelling in his pants.