The Englishman

Last night I wanted to surprise my husband with a special home coming. He'd been to Scotland for a seminar and I was picking him up at our local airport. Patrick and I enjoy a rather exciting sex life, and there are no taboos or restrictions on our activities.

Getting back to last night, I was very anxious to see my husband. He'd been gone five days (and five long, long nights!) I wanted to do something special for him, so I planned my welcome home event with considerable care. I'd spent the entire day at the spa getting "ready" for him. Tanning, massage, manicure, facial,...the works! I bought a new garter belt, and found some very sheer hose, the ones with a seam up the back. Patrick's favorite. I bought some new panties as well. No bra. I never wear one. His plane was landing at ten that evening. I wasn't sure what I'd wear with the underthings and finally, as I was putting the garter and stockings on, it hit me. I'd wear only those two items. I'd wrap up in my London Fog rain coat, and meet his plane with nothing on under the coat except the garter and stockings! Fuck! I was getting excited just thinking about it.

I stood in front of the mirror before I put my coat on and examined my body once more. Not bad, if I do say so myself. In case this is the first story of ours you've read, let me describe myself. I'm 5'6" tall, weigh around 117 pounds, and measure 38-22-36. By the way, the 38 is a double D cup. My breasts are my best feature, or so I think. They are full, smooth, and oval shaped. Patrick tells me I have bullet nipples, cause they're always hard, and stick out about 3/8 of an inch. When they're touched, or sucked, they get even bigger!

My ass is nice, a little large I think, but there again, I yield to my husband's judgment. He says it's perfect. Of course, he is a bit prejudiced. I keep my pussy trimmed close, namely because he likes it that way, but also because I have a very prominent clitoris, and when there's not much hair covering it, it seems more sensitive to the touch, or the tongue!

My hair is red, shoulder length. Green eyes, freckles, and wet lips. It seems my lips are naturally wet, but I do wear a high sheen lip gloss. I have long red nails, don't wear a lot of eye makeup, but have very long lashes. I guess I'll do in a pinch. I should confess also, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. I love to have men admire me, whistle, pant, chant, lust, and on most occasions, even touch me. This works out well, because Patrick's weakness is voyeurism. What a match we make. I love to show it, and he loves to watch me do it! We've been swinging since '88, and it just gets better and better.

I should also confess that we play a lot of games, and most of them centre around one or the other of us being humiliated, or at least dominated by the other. It doesn't seem to matter who does which, but in almost all our games, the underlying current is one of power and control. I guess that would sum us up. We are both control type people, and we made an unspoken arrangement years ago that in our sexual games, we would take turn controlling and being controlled.

Oh, and one more thing. I absolutely love to suck cock.

So, getting back to last night, I decided that I'd pick my husband up wearing nothing under my raincoat except the articles I've already described. I wanted to excite him as quickly as possible. I hadn't decided if I'd flash him at the airport, or if I'd wait till we got to the car, but I knew that part of the plan would involve me riding home naked, or damn near.

The only other thing I wore were a pair of pumps we'd bought in Los Angeles a few years back. They were the highest heels I owned, somewhere around five inches. Patrick says I always look like I need to be fucked when I wear them. And he's right. I decided to take the Lincoln instead of my two seater. If things went as I hoped, part of the ride home from the airport would involve a cock in my mouth, and there's more room in the front of the Lincoln for such activities. Oh, one more thing. Just before I left the house, I'd been chatting with a really hot guy on the BBS. I told him that I had to get my husband, but that I'd call him back when we got home. Unfortunately for him, I never got to call him back. I'm sure he'll forgive me though, when I explain how the night went.

The ride to the airport was pretty uneventful. I'd stopped for gas, (Patrick's car always seems to be on empty) and couldn't help flirting with the guy at the gas station. He was very nice, and offered to clean my windows for me. I knew what he wanted, but didn't have time to give it to him. Besides, I wanted to be nice and clean for Patrick. I did give him a nice peek at my legs, however. In fact, I'm sure he saw quite a bit more than just my legs. I made sure of that. After he'd finished with the windows, I asked him if he could vacuum the floorboards for me. He couldn't wait! I stayed in the car, shifting my legs over the hump while he vacuumed the floor boards, giving him a real view of my pussy! I needed that! It seems the more men see of me, the hotter I get. And I was already hot enough to start a forest fire! But time was short, though I could tell by the bulge in his pants that time was the only thing short around there. I made a mental note to come back there sometime when I had more time.

I got to the airport with a few minutes to spare. Checking my watch, I realized I was about ten minutes early. Not bad considering I am a terrible judge of time and distances. I sat in the car, listening to the CD player until I saw his plane approach the runway. We live in a small town, about a hundred miles from Dallas, and our airport is nothing to brag about. I knew this plane must be his. As it landed, I made my way into the terminal and waited by the luggage area. This wasn't the first time I'd picked him up here, and I pretty much knew the drill. I waited by the wall closest to the door he'd enter. I still hadn't decided when or how I'd flash him. I wasn't worried about someone else seeing us, I'm not the shy type. But I was concerned that someone we knew might be there as well, so I thought I'd play it cool till I was sure about the situation. I needn't have worried. Six other people came down the concourse. I didn't know any of them. Patrick saw me almost at once. He smiled at me and started to wave.

I reached up to the belt on my coat, and in one movement, unhooked it, allowing the coat to fall open. I could see by the look on my husband's face that he'd seen what I was showing him. His face actually registered shock! And trust me, it's not easy to shock Patrick! I closed the coat almost as quickly as I'd opened it, and walked over to him. Patrick is almost a foot taller than me, and even with heels, I had to reach to press my lips to his. After almost a week apart, neither one of us wanted just a peck on the cheeks. Not the facial cheeks at least. We must have had our lips locked on each other's for at least a full minute. It was long enough to feel his tongue reclaim the inside of my mouth, and vice versa.

He kisses sooooo good! By the time we let go of each other, I was already soaking wet between my legs, and if I knew my man, his cock was bone hard as well. I whispered in his ear, "Did I surprise you?"

"Yes. I was surprised. But you know, I wasn't the only one who saw it. I'm sure all the other men standing next to me noticed you as well."

"Oh. I hope they don't think badly of me. I just wanted to show my hubby what he was going to get!" I couldn't help but giggle. I knew this line of prattle would sound inane to anyone listening, but it was serving a purpose. I was building up to what I wanted to hear. "You know, I wouldn't want just anyone to see my pussy and tits."

"Yes you would, darling. You know, a nice girl wouldn't be dressed like this, would she?" Patrick always knows what to say to me.

"Are you trying to say I'm not a nice girl?"

"I not trying to say anything, Rachael. You know what you are."

"What am I?"

"You're a very sweet person, and a wonderful wife, but I'm afraid you are a bit of a slut."

"How can you say that?"

"Easily, sweetie. Now, you are a whore, aren't you?"

I looked down at my feet, as if contemplating what he'd said, and looked back up at him, not able to keep the smile out of my eyes. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I do seem to be a bit of a whore."

"But that's all right. Because I like whores." He added warmly.

"Let's go home. I need you so bad!"

"Have you been a good girl while I was gone?"

"Well...sort of." I'd been a very good girl while he was gone, and the boy who delivers our groceries can attest to that, I thought. But that was a story for later.

"Rachael...tell the truth."

"Well, I didn't fuck anyone while you were gone." That was the truth. I didn't say I hadn't sucked any cock, only that I hadn't fucked anyone. Patrick knew me well enough to understand that by saying I hadn't "fucked" anyone, that I was leaving a hole a mile wide in my story. I wanted him to know I'd had sexual adventures, and he'd want to hear about them as well, but part of the game is making him pull things out of me, as if I was reluctant to relate my exploits.

"But you weren't a good girl, not totally, were you?"

"Well...I guess I may have done a few things I shouldn't have done...but Patrick...a girl needs to know she's wanted!"

"I know. It's okay. You can tell me all about it when we get home. And you know, don't you, that you're always wanted!"

"Do you want me?"

"Oh, yes!"

"A lot or a little?"

He didn't answer me. Instead, he pulled me toward him again for another kiss, but this time, he pushed his lower body against me as he did. There was no mistaking his purpose. He wanted me to feel his rock hard cock against my leg. If I wasn't wet before, I was then! Breaking the kiss, he slowly released me.

"Do you want to wait till we get home, or do you want me now?" Patrick smiled when I said this.

"You mean right now?"

Now it was my turn to smile. I hadn't even thought about fucking him in the airport! Leave it to my husband to take my fantasy and make it one better. I looked around the reception area. His luggage still wasn't ready, but I sure as fuck was. I glanced over to the rest rooms. This time of night there weren't likely to be too many people in there. Patrick's gaze followed mine. We both smiled again.

"Men or women's?" I asked him.

"I'm sure the women's is totally empty," he replied.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I sighed.

"Better use the men's."

My heart skipped a beat when he said that. Part of the thrill of semi-public sex for me is the risk of being discovered. Patrick knew this, and given a choice between an empty women's room, or a men's room that may have someone in it, he chose the one that might have another person, another man, in close proximity to our lovemaking. What a guy!

I turned to walk away when suddenly Patrick stopped me. "Rachael, I want you to meet someone." I noticed for the first time that another man was standing next to Patrick. In my excitement, I hadn't paid the stranger any attention. Now that my husband had said something though, I suddenly realized the other man probably heard our entire conversation.

"Rachael, this is Paul. He and I have flown in from London together. He's staying in town tonight before going on to Shreveport. Paul, this is Rachael, my wife."

Paul was tall, taller than Patrick. And nicely built, not lean, kinda chunky. I like my men a little on the heavy side. It allows me to instantly go into a rape fantasy when ever a large man is fucking me. Little guys are nice, especially for ass fucking, but for a real hard, scream your guts out fuck, I always look to a big man. Paul had a very closely trimmed beard, peppered with gray hair. I guessed him to be in his mid-forties (I found out later he was 37). But what really blew me away was when he opened his mouth.

"My word! I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Blaine. Patrick is a lucky chap to be married to such a beautiful woman!"

He spoke with a British accent! By now you probably realize that I'm not a particularly hard woman to get to know, but one thing that moves a man to the head of the line with me is an accent. Any accent. Patrick knows this about me, and it seems he delights in bring me men who have this particular feature.

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Paul. Are you in America on business?"

"Oh, yes. You know how it is. All work...no play. 'Fraid that pretty well sums up my life."

"Oh, what a shame. A handsome man like you must get a lot of offers to play."

I was flirting openly now, and Patrick smiled a quiet kind of smile. He knew I was taken with his new friend. And it makes him happy whenever I like a man. And the more I like one, the happier Patrick is. I liked this one a lot! Patrick spoke next.

"Paul, I was just going to the men's room. Would you keep a look out for my luggage. I'll be right back."

"Of course, old boy. I'll just try to amuse Rachael while you're gone."

"Actually, she going with me. We'll be right back."

With that, Patrick took me by the hand and led me away from this hunk that I was just starting to get to know. I'd forgotten about our previous conversation. How embarrassing this was. My husband was taking me with him to the restroom, and this stranger, this man I'd just met watched as we walked away, and into the restroom. I was so humiliated. My pussy was a soggy mess! Patrick didn't hesitate a moment; the door to the men's room opened, and suddenly we were inside the place where women seldom go. I whispered as we entered, "What if there's someone in here?"

"What if there is? I'm too horny to play games, Rachael. I want to fuck your mouth, and I want to fuck it now!"

I knew he didn't mean the part about being to horny to play games. He loved to play them as much as I did. But he wasn't kidding about wanting to fuck my mouth. Patrick jokes about a lot of things, but getting his dick sucked isn't one of them.

The room was empty, as far as I could tell. There were three stalls, all with closed doors. I could see the floor of the first two, but not the third. Patrick still had my hand in his, and led me into the first booth.

"Open your coat. I want to see that pussy again."

"Patrick! Not so loud! Someone might hear you."

"Rachael, open the fucking coat. No, better yet, take it off. Now!"

I absolutely love a forceful man. I didn't need to be told twice. The coat was unbuckled and off within five seconds. And there I stood, wearing only heels, hose and garter belt. My pussy was framed nicely by the black satin garter belt and my long legs looked very sexy in the black stockings. Above the waist I was totally naked, and my breasts were beginning to ache to be touched. The sudden coolness of the men's room, coupled with my need for sexual release, made my nipples harder than usual. And if it is possible, longer than usual.

"Get on your knees."

"There's not enough room in here. Let me sit and you stand in front of me."

"I said, get on your knees."

"If I get on my knees, my feet will stick out under the door. .Anyone walking in will know what I'm doing," I protested. Patrick was in no mood for any shit from me. He placed his hands on my naked shoulders and pushed me downward, forcing me to my knees. And I was right, my feet did stick out from under the door. Anyone walking into the men's room at that point would see my red pumps, heels upward, and know that the owner of the shoes was kneeling just on the other side. And when a person is kneeling inside a bathroom stall, odds are pretty good that someone is on the receiving end of a blow job. Once I was in the position my husband wanted, he continued giving me direction.

"Unzip my pants." I did, and waited for further orders.

"Pull my cock out." I did.

"Now, suck it, bitch!" Oh, and I did! My face went to his hardness like a metal shaving to a magnet! I wanted him in my mouth, pushing his cock against my tongue. I needed to feel my man right then. Actually, I needed to feel any man right then. But sometimes, Patrick's cock is the best there is, and right then, his was the one I wanted. And wanted bad!

"Oh, baby! Yeah, that's right. Suck me. Take it all the way in. Oh, yeah!"

His cock was huge when I began to suck him, but I knew it would get bigger. Patrick's dick is ten inches soft, and at least twelve when it's hard. But it's not so much the length that gets me, it's the girth. hen he's fully excited, and he would be in a few more moments, his cock is as thick as my ankle. Even as I sucked him, he was growing thicker and longer in my mouth. Usually, when I suck his dick, Patrick is rather passive and lets me work at my own rate. But not that night. No, he wasn't getting his cock sucked, he was fucking my mouth. For a moment, I was afraid he'd get carried away and forget where we were. I wanted to please him so much, though, I really didn't care. If he'd wanted to fuck me in the middle of the restroom floor, I'd have gladly spread my legs for him.

"Oh, yes! That's it baby. Suck me! Make me come in your mouth! I want to fuck your face, Rachael! Suck me, baby, suck me!"

Oh, and I was sucking. My own pussy was soaking wet, and while I kneeled there, on the floor of a men's washroom stall, my husband's hard cock pumping into my face, I balanced myself by holding on to his dick with my right hand, while my left hand diddled my pussy. I had three fingers inside my cunt, whirling away trying to get satisfaction. But the harder I whipped my clitoris, the further I seemed away from a climax. I wanted to come. I needed to come!

Suddenly, I felt Patrick's hand on the back of my head. He was pushing my face deeper over his cock, forcing more of his dick inside my mouth. I have managed to long since over come my gag reflex, but this sudden penetration of cock into my mouth was almost more than I could accept. I was breathing through my nose as rapidly as I could. My husband's cock was blocking my air passage. If he didn't stop soon, I was afraid I'd suffocate. But what a way to go, stuffed with a hot dick pumping into your mouth!

I put all I had into the blow job. Patrick, certain we were alone, was almost screaming at me. "Suck me, bitch! Suck my cock! Suck me like the whore you are! You don't care who you suck, do you? You'd suck anyone right now, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you!"

I didn't take his dick out of my mouth to answer. But he understood my muffled, "Yes!" But he still hadn't come, and I was getting worried. Patrick can control his orgasms better than any man I'd ever had, but this wasn't a case of him holding back. He was doing everything he could to come, to let his jism loose in my mouth! That's why he was saying the things he was saying. Whenever he was close to coming, but couldn't quite release his passions, I would usually say to him, "Come on, baby, fuck me. I need a man to fuck me now. If you don't want to, I'll find someone else. But a whore needs to be fucked. Doesn't she? And I'm a whore, baby! I need to be fucked by someone!"

Usually, by this point Patrick will drop his entire load in my pussy or mouth, or even my ass hole. Now, with my mouth stuffed with his cock, I couldn't give him the kind of verbal stimulus he needed. But then, something happened that pushed him over the edge. The toilet in the third stall flushed! In a flash, Patrick realized that someone had heard the entire encounter, had heard him order me to my knees, had heard him order me to suck him off! And had heard all the things he'd said while my mouth was surrounding his hard dick! As this realization overcame him, he came over my lips, my tongue, and started pumping into my face all the creme he'd saved for me while he was in Europe.

As I heard the other stall's door unlock and open, I continued to suck my husband's cock while he continued to come in my mouth! What an orgasm. As his dick convulsed in my mouth, shooting hot gooey creme all over my lips and tongue, I felt someone touch the back of my legs, the part that stuck out under the door of the stall we were in. It was a pat, more than a fondle. Almost as if someone was patting me on the back to express a job well done. I never knew who that was, but I was glad I was able to entertain a stranger with my oral delicacies, even though he'd not been able to watch, or feel, me in action.