The Mexican Stand-off

"But I was anxious to jack up the heat, so I decided to give him a good show. I spread my knees apart as far as I could, placed one foot on the coffee table, propped my elbow on my elevated knee while my chin rested in my hand, and looked at him. Rob tried to keep his eyes on mine, but his gaze kept drifting to my slit. My other hand was resting on my opposite thigh, which I'd flared out to the side as much as possible. Nothing was left to the imagination, trust me.

"But I wanted to show it all, so I eased my hand to my pussy, sometimes covering myself, sometimes rubbing my clit. My cunt felt so hot and wet! Finally, I slid my finger in and gave myself three or four slow strokes. I made sure that my lips were well parted before moving my hand away. He kept staring at my hole. You have no idea how much I wanted to finger-fuck myself for him. I was unbelievably itchy, but somehow I held off."

"Holy shit, Catherine, I'm going to cum just listening to this."

"Not yet, honey. We're not even close to end," I drawled, flaming him with some friendly fire. Chris fought back his urge and eventually signalled for me to continue.

"The conversation had stopped," I resumed. "I was in a boil over the situation I'd put myself in—naked, spread-eagled, and giving an explicit viewing of my oyster to a hunk I'd met only a few hours ago.

"At last, I decided that I'd teased long enough. I stood, held out my hand, and asked if he'd like to dance. It was an evening of bullshit lines: I had no interest in dancing. Rob leapt up and started kissing and feeling me. His hands were all over me, squeezing my ass and tits. He started sucking on my nipples once his hand found my pussy. I was shaking! As soon as he touched my slit, I knew I was ripe, so I lifted my foot onto the coffee table to let him have a good feel. I was shameless, honey, but I didn't care."

Chris worked more fingers into me, using deeper strokes. I widen myself for him, raising my feet off the bed. I was breathing fast, as was he. The story was consuming both of us.

"Rob continued sucking my nipples while stroking me. His fingers felt so good squishing into my hole! But I wanted his body, so I began removing his clothes. I undid his belt and pants while he unbuttoned his shirt."

My husband spoke hoarsely. "Was his cock nice?"

I had expected this. "Was he well hung, is that what you're asking?" I toyed. This was my weapon of mass destruction, and my finger lay on my button. But I used restraint and said, "His cock was thick. When I saw it, shining with pre-cum, I wanted it inside me so bad.

"Oddly, even though I was hotter than hell, I was very composed. I sensed that he'd cum quickly, and I didn't want him to ejaculate inside me prematurely. So, in one motion, I slid onto my knees and put him in my mouth. It didn't take long for him to cum. I sucked him like this."

I slithered down and gave Chris a demonstration. He held my hair and moaned, "Did he cum in your mouth?"

I nodded affirmatively while bobbing on his erection.

Chris pushed deeper and managed to ask, "Did you swallow?"

I removed my mouth from Chris's cock and lay back. I licked my lips, looked at him, and asked, "What do you think?" while tugging my nipples.

Chris went back to fingering me, massaging my dilated insides with machine-gun rapidity. Both my story and body bewitched him, causing my husband to speak in broken phrases. "I think... that you... devoured... his load."

The feel of Chris's fingers within me while I relived my special night was decadent. I expanded myself as wide as I could and managed to murmur throatily, "Chris, when have I not swallowed?"

The cabana, lacking air conditioning or a fan, was boiling. Bullets of sweat started to cover both of us. Chris laboured between my legs, his eyes pasted on my opening and its consumption of his fingers. I wondered if his mind were aflame with images of my mouth similarly consuming Rob.

I spoke with difficulty. "I think he was surprised and a little inexperienced. Rob was squeamish about kissing me afterwards. But I persisted, and he finally got into it. Then I led him onto my bed. We lay talking, touching, snuggling, kissing. Soon he started sucking my breasts and worked his way down."

I was close to cumming and my husband, sensing this, eased off. I felt his breath blowing on my slit. We held each other for a few minutes of cease-fire to cool down from our near-orgasmic levels.

After recovering somewhat, I carried on. "Rob went down on me. He tried, but it wasn't quite right. Maybe I just wanted to screw? Anyway, I stopped him and pulled him back up. My hand groped for his cock. He was hard again, so I guided him into me."

Chris started breathing quickly again and asked, "Did he use a condom?"

"No. Who was concerned about AIDS back then? Stupid, I know. I was more concerned about getting pregnant."

"You weren't on birth control?"

"That's right, but I was so horny that I didn't care. I wanted it badly.

"I can just imagine you, baby, hot to trot. You look so good when you ache for it, you know? I could eat you up!"

I ran my hand through Chris's hair and pecked him on his eyes and cheeks. "Thank you, sweets—I might take you up on that." I exhaled and went on, "Oh, he was so delicious! We started gradually. He was gentle, sliding it into me bit by bit until he was all inside. His cock was thick, stretching and filling me! And I loved his ass. It was tight and great to grab onto. But soon that wasn't enough. I was craving a good fucking and got him to start thrusting it into me."

"Did you talk?"

"Not really. I think I grunted, 'Fuck me!' every now and then. I was in a frenzy, rubbing my clit like mad while he pounded me. My knees were up to my chest so he could give it to me as deep as possible. It was marvellous watching and feeling him plunge into me while he gritted his teeth. But I couldn't cum. I'd get close, but I just couldn't reach it. After about ten or fifteen minutes I felt him shudder as he came. He was gorgeous to look at as he convulsed and spurted inside my pussy."

Chris not only withstood my barrage but also seemed to gather strength. "You delicious woman, you. God, that guy was a lucky bastard," he enthused.

"Thanks, baby, but I didn't do too badly myself.

"It was over," I resumed and got ready to let Chris have both barrels. "It was about 4am. We cuddled, chatted, giggled, but the feeling was mutual: The proverbial post-coitus cigarette had been lit, smoked, and snuffed out—it was time for him to leave. He began getting dressed. I got out of bed and realised that I still had my heels on. I grabbed my silk robe, put it on, and thought, 'What the hell—a final curtain call.' So I left it undone. Rob watched me as he dressed, smiled, and complimented my body. Perhaps Rob was rethinking whether to leave, but I escorted him to the door.

"I stood in the open doorway, and he in the hall, where we kissed goodbye. Rob cupped my breast, whispered, 'Thank you for a wonderful evening,' and started walking to the elevator. I was leaning against the doorframe. My robe was open and falling off one shoulder. One foot was raised back with my leg bent at the knee, the shoe resting against the doorjamb. My arms were to my sides, hands behind my back.

"Halfway to the elevator, Rob stopped and looked back. I brought a hand out, extended my fingers, and dragged the middle one down my neck, cleavage, and belly. I paused at my navel, drawing several circles, and then eased my finger to my clit. I rubbed it for a few seconds and then slid my hand up to my breast and tugged on my nipple. Finally, I replaced my arm behind my back.

"Rob seemed hypnotised. He gawked at my performance, walked back, and kissed me hard, grabbing my tits before latching onto my cunt, still messy with semen and juice."

Chris mounted me and placed the head of his erection at my entrance, making me hunger for more. I raised my pelvis to capture him, but he moved with laser-guided precision, matching my co-ordinates, hovering the tip of his warhead on the very outskirts of the target, torturing me with his pinpoint accuracy.

"What then?" he breathed heavily.

"There was no more teasing. Somehow, we tottered back to collapse onto the bed. Rob ripped at his clothes while I waited with open legs. As soon as he stripped, he planted his cock into me with one thrust. I gasped with a mixture of pleasure, surprise, and maybe a little pain at his sudden penetration. But the discomfort vanished in no time. I couldn't open myself enough for him, and he began fucking me firm and fast.

"Rob was on his knees, holding my ankles, splitting me apart, giving it to me with all his might. I was crazy with lust. His cock just kept pumping at my cunt. I was delirious, rubbing my clit while he ploughed it into me. I was determined to cum, and, at last, after about fifteen minutes, I climaxed. It was such a release! And so intense, because he kept screwing me throughout my orgasm."

Chris nestled his hardness into me, manning my cockpit, my flaps extended for maximum glide. We were locked in intercourse, united in our cause, a coalition at last. I clung tightly, wrapping my limbs around my husband's body, and rocked my clit against him. The target appeared on the horizon, and we started gunning for it in earnest.

I continued my story through clenched teeth. "Rob kept at it, fucking me good and hard, churning away at my hole. A spot inside was getting irritated, so I knew I'd be sore. But although my cunt was getting tender, I wasn't going to stop him: It still felt so good! My thighs were also getting tired and starting to burn from being stretched apart for so long. He went on banging away at me for another fifteen minutes or so after I'd climaxed. At last, I could tell he was close. He started fucking me even harder than before and, when he came, pushed tight against me so he could shoot deep into my guts. It was fantastic, but I was glad that he stopped. My cunt had been fucked raw."

I writhed beneath my husband as we ground our pubic bones together and inched ever closer to release. At last the climactic bomb bay doors opened—I felt the resulting increase in turbulence and heard the unmistakable whistling: Loud and high in pitch, then fading deceptively, fainter and fainter still, becoming lower in tone—a bass note—until there was a momentary yet agonising silence. Suddenly, the explosive shock waves arrived, the familiar tremors that never failed to inspire awe. Chris followed right behind, detonating with force and volume, firing his cannon charge within my belly.

I clenched him and felt his missile rumbling within my silo. Chris was my prisoner, and I kept him there until I finished my story.

"Rob collapsed on top of me and rolled off after a bit. We didn't move for several minutes, but eventually we snuggled and talked. All the requisite post-sex conventions were repeated but with a little more haste. This time I knew it was over. When we got up, I stumbled and discovered that I had only one shoe on, so I kicked it off. I found my robe and—fastening it—saw him to the door. We said our goodbyes with a light kiss. That's it."

Chris held me tight, squeezing me so hard that I thought we'd fuse. It was exactly what I needed. I didn't want anything to poison our well of love or booby-trap our marriage, least of all a little late-night reconnaissance from before I even knew him. However, he was true to his word. There was no jealousy, recrimination, or other collateral damage—only sweet, loveable, edible Chris. I gave him a big, smacking kiss on the lips.

"Oh, my sweet, sexy baby," Chris said, returning my kiss. "You were terrific! What an amazing night! Tell me about another time, honey."

"Not tonight, sweetheart. Tomorrow; maybe tomorrow."

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Comments, criticism, and feedback are always welcomed.

The next story in this series is "Sugar Papito".

CC