Used

It happened. Nobody knows about it, but it did happen. I didn't ask for it to happen. I didn't expect it to happen. I didn't even necessarily want it to happen, but it did happen. No, I didn't fight particularly hard to prevent it from happening. It's just that I didn't want to create a scene, and I was afraid if I tried too hard to stop it, it may cause even more of a scene. I mean, my wife was there as well as about a half dozen other couples we knew. But that just seemed to make Leslie that much more determined to achieve her goal.

Leslie was married to a guy named Ryan Parker who played pick-up basketball with us on Sunday mornings. Most of the guys at this party played as well, and most of us either went to college or high school together. I only knew Ryan through basketball, but since we were all married with kids, we decided that every couple of months we'd have a party at somebody's house and include the families. The kids would run about, but mostly they ran around outside or stayed in a room where the toys, TV and video games were found. The wives would organize the spread of food on the table while talking about this and that, and the guys cooked on the grill, watched sports and drank beer. This party proved to be progressing as parties had in the past, and as usual, one of the high-lights was watching Leslie show off her amazing body.

Un-like most of the wives who either worked in an office or were house wives, Leslie was employed as a physical therapist. And, in addition to that, she was also a trained message therapist as well as a certified yoga instructor. Needless to say, Leslie had an awesome body. She stood about 5'2", maybe 130 lbs. with thick and shapely legs that demanded attention, especially when encased in creamy gray yoga pants and standing in a pair of three-inch heeled turquoise fuck-me pumps as they were on this night. On top, she wore a low-cut, turquoise camisole under a white hoody, un-zipped enough to expose her abundant cleavage. Her breasts were large and natural. Her nail color matched that of her shoes.

Leslie's blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail that exposed more of her naturally tanned skin and made her long neck seem that much more elegant and inviting. To watch her supple walk was an experience in and of its self, but to stand face to face with her and gaze into those wolf-like gray-green eyes was positively frightening; the fear was the thought that you could gladly throw it all away for a woman like this. Her eyes were mesmerizing; they were eyes a man could truly get lost in and they were difficult to look away from once they'd captured you. Soon your heart would start to race, your cock would turn to steel in your pants, and a sense of panic would begin to grip you. That's when you knew it was time to move away, fast.

Leslie Ann Parker exuded sexuality to the point where it was almost uncomfortable to be in her presence, that is, until she opens her mouth. When Leslie spoke, one would think Betty Boop had been reincarnated. She possessed a rather high pitched, nasally voice (without the Brooklyn accent) that barely rose above a sexy whisper. People thought she was joking, that no one really spoke like that. To top it off, just about everything she said was sexually suggestive, and this made her suspect to the other wives in the group. They saw Leslie as a temptress, someone with the skills, ability, and equipment to force their men to forget their vows. As a result, they made no effort to include her in their conversation. So, when not sitting by herself (and looking damn fine in the process), she was draped around her husband as he engaged the other men in manly conversation. In a way, I felt sorry for her, and that was my undoing.

"Yo, Brett," said Ethan, slapping me on the back and squeezing my shoulder for emphasis. "I'm sure you've checked out how Leslie is dressed tonight."

"No doubt, bro," I responded with a smile.

"Dude," exclaimed Justin. "I detected a lack of undergarments associated with her outfit!"

"I wouldn't know," said Steve. "I was told by my wife that I'd be castrated if she saw me so much as glance in her direction."

"How can Ryan stand to be married to her?" asked Ethan emptying the contents of a beer into his cup. "I mean, she flirts with anything male and Ryan acts like he doesn't even notice."

"I know, did you see the way those yoga pants get sucked into her butt crack like that?" asked Steve.

"Uh oh, Steve, there go your testicles," quipped Justin.

"I mean, is she a slut or does she just act like one," I asked.

"What's the difference? She's hot as fuck!" reasoned Justin.

"No, really; is she sleeping around on him? And if so, why does Ryan put up with it?" I asked, still trying to make sense of her behavior.

"He's never complained to me about any infidelity issues with Leslie, but of course that doesn't really mean anything," explained Ethan.

"Yeah, maybe he's into it and shit," suggested Justin.

"Or maybe he's just in denial," I offered.

"I'd certainly find it hard to trust her if I were married to her," said Steve.

"Then why would you marry her in the first place if you couldn't trust her?" I asked.

"Dude, to fuck a woman like that on a regular basis, I'd put up with infidelity, that squeaky assed voice of hers, and a lot more," laughed Justin. "Who needs a beer?"

"I do," I said getting up from the couch. "I'll get them. Who else wants one?"

I walked out onto the patio and momentarily enjoyed the beauty of the orange sunlight sifted through a stand of trees that bordered the edge of the yard. The smoke from the grill swirled magically through the scene and reminded me that I should have pursued a career in film making. Standing at the center of this scene between the beer coolers and the grill stood Ryan with that lusty vixen nestled under his arm. He was talking to Joe and Phil while she played with a string on her hoody, dragging it back and forth over the hardened nipple that poked out the material that covered it. Each time she dragged it back and forth, the erect nipple would bend over until it made contact with her boob and then spring back up as it passed.

Phil and Joe were finding it hard to maintain eye contact with Ryan. Both looked at me with relief as I walked up and drew Ryan's attention. Their eyes immediately returned to Leslie's nipple as Ryan raised his beer to me in salutation.

"What's up?" I said, nodding my head with an upward jerk as guys do.

"Not much, man," he said removing his arm from around his wife so he could hold his beer and shake my hand. "You remember my wife, Leslie?"

"Hi, Brett," she purred, holding her hand out to shake mine. My balls twitched.

"Hey, Leslie," I said taking her hand. Her grip was firm but feminine. She didn't let go right away. My cock flexed. She slid her hand from my hand in the most imperceptible but sensual way that I was momentarily dumbfounded. If she did that on purpose, then that was amazing, I remember thinking to myself. I nervously looked back at Ryan, fearing I had lingered in her gaze for too long.

"Wow, you look like you've been hitting the gym, Brett," she squealed, squeezing my bicep.

"No more than usual," I answered quickly, flexing my arm and gently pulling away from her groping grasp.

"Ooh, you've got such nice pecs," she whispered almost to herself as she caressed my chest with her wonderfully manicured hand.

"Thanks," I said, deciding to stand stock still while staring at her hand.

"Yeah, Brett's a fuckin' beast," agreed Joe.

"He's built like a baby grizzly bear," added Phil.

"Like a big ole teddy bear, I bet," she squeaked, surreptitiously twisting my nipple before removing her hand form my chest.

"Oh, I don't know about that," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"He's tough under the boards, that's for sure," said Ryan. I remember thinking what a nice guy he was for saying that about me at that time.

"Yeah, but you're the man for raining threes from down-town," I added, returning the compliment.

"Oh, you are a sweetheart, aren't you," she said smiling sweetly at me as she draped her husband's arm around her shoulders again.

"Well, I may no longer be if I don't take some beers back in to the guys waiting for me," I said moving off toward the coolers. I was surprised at how quickly I had developed a full-blown hard-on. I grabbed some beers and hurried back inside.

Later that evening, after having downed many beers, I passed through the wives chatting away enthusiastically in the kitchen on my way to the bathroom. As I rounded the corner on the landing on my way to the second floor, I spotted Leslie sitting by herself on the couch checking the ends of her ponytail for split ends. I didn't think she saw me.

In the bathroom, I stood with my eyes closed and enjoyed the sensations of emptying my over filled bladder. I felt like I had been peeing for over a minute when I opened my eyes to make sure I wasn't overflowing the toilet. The bathroom door opened and in walked Leslie who quickly turned and closed the door before facing me. She squealed and placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and staring directly at my cock, her face full of amazement

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know anybody was in here."

I heard my stream of urine striking the upturned toilet seat and looked back to adjust my aim.

"That's ok," I said. "I'm almost finished."

"Wow, you sure had to go, didn't you?" she asked, still not taking her eyes from my cock.

I forced myself to finish quickly as I felt my cock begin to harden. I folded it back inside my zipper as it stiffened into the waistband of my underwear.

"All yours," I said, wiping the urine from the toilet seat with some tissue and flushing it.

As I washed my hands, Leslie walked over to the toilet, slid her yoga pants to mid thigh, and perched upon the seat. I listened to the hiss of urine streaming into the water as I exited the room. I couldn't help myself and peeked through the narrowing crack as I pulled the door shut. The last thing I saw were her eyes locked on mine.

As the time turned to double digits, the party entered the end phase. Those children that remained were already in their pajamas and piled onto the bed in the master bedroom. They had been set up to watch a Disney movie until their parents were ready to depart, but all had succumbed to sleep. A raucous card game was in session at the kitchen table while a few lounged in the living room watching the end of a baseball game.

I could hear my wife, Carrie as well as Joe, Steve, Ryan and Lucy all talking shit as the card game escalated in intensity. Leslie watched the card game while massaging her husband's shoulders. I had found a comfortable seat on the floor in the living room with my back resting against the couch, watching the game. Justin sat on the couch and matched me beer for beer. At some point, a cheer from the kitchen woke me from my alcohol induced slumber.

As I regained consciousness, I noted that the game I was watching had gone into extra innings. My butt was a bit sore from sitting on the floor, and I had sprouted a super hard piss boner which was going to take some work to reduce before I'd be able to use it to yet again empty my bladder. I turned my head to the left to talk to Justin, but instead was greeted by Leslie's smiling face.

"Oh, hey Leslie," I said smiling sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed that I'd sort of passed out. "What's up?"

"You...I see," she giggled, pointing at the impressive tent my stiffened penis had pitched in my pants.

"Oh, yeah, well, that happens..." I said, too drunk at this point to really care what she saw, but drunk enough to be impressed with how hard it had gotten. I wasn't surprised she had commented on it as that was consistent with her nature. I turned back to the TV and waited for her to toss another sexually provocative comment about it, but it never came. When she hadn't spoken for a while I turned to see what she was doing.

Nervously biting at the tip of the index finger on her left hand, Leslie sat looking hungrily at my cock. Her right hand was buried between her thighs. Her eyes drifted up to mine and she smiled.

"Excuse me, but I have to take care of something right now," she said standing up. She wiggled her firm bubble-butt as she pulled her yoga pants up tight around her hips, forcing the stretchy gray material to mold itself to her plump pudenda. Instead of walking around the coffee table to go about her business, she walked between the coffee table and the couch, lifting her leg to step over me.

I found Leslie's actions typically provocative and rather amusing. I enjoyed watching her slow down as her pussy passed inches in front of my face, her protruding inner lips mashed against her vulva clearly discernable through the thin material. But then she stopped, looking down at me with a mischievous smirk on her face and quickly settled onto my lap. She carefully positioned her plump mound firmly onto my cloth covered erection and immediately began to grind away. I was rather startled by her brazenness and put my hands on her hips to lift her up. Leslie put her hands on top of mine and pressed herself onto me with greater force.

"What are you doing?" I asked, beginning to panic.

"Shhh, just deal with it, it won't take long," she whispered, pressing her cheek next to mine, all the while grinding herself back and forth on my cock.

Considering she was riding a piss-boner, I was in no danger of cumming, but I was deathly afraid that someone would come in and catch us. I couldn't deny that this was the most erotic situation I'd ever been in, but it may also have been the most dangerous situation I'd ever been in. As a result, I wasn't enjoying this in the traditional manner, but I was enjoying it. Nevertheless, I still wanted to know what I was enjoying.

"Leslie," I whispered in her ear. "What are you doing? What about Ryan?"

"Ryan lets me do what I want," she explained, all the while maintaining her gyrations. "I have certain appetites and he lets me indulge them so long as nobody fucks me."

Leslie's body trembled briefly, but she kept grinding her way toward her inevitable orgasm. Her movements were skillful and effective. I could feel the hardened nub of her clitoris each time she dragged it over the tip of my cock. The heat that emanated from our groins increased as did the moisture that wicked into the material of her yoga pants.

"So, what's your ultimate appetite?" I whispered in her other ear.

She placed her chin on top of my head and I kissed the front of her throat which sent tiny shivers throughout her body. Her gyrations began to loose their rhythm and she clutched my head, framing my face in her cleavage.

"I love to cum," she gushed breathlessly and promptly started to tremble.

"Really?" I said as I lifted my hips to increase the friction between our genitals.

"Jesus, Brett! I'm gonna cum," she moaned quietly.

This was the best part of our little union; clutching Leslie's body as it trembled violently from her orgasm and listening to her moan and whimper as the waves of pleasure washed over her body. The thought that I had helped her achieve this outcome was surprisingly rewarding. Soon she regained her senses and, cradling my face in her hands, she gave me a long, wet kiss that was tender and surprisingly emotional.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then, standing slowly and smiling down at me, she turned and walked out of the room.

I sat for a moment savoring the memory of what had just happened. Soon, the need to urinate overcame me and I wandered off to the bathroom. I had to pull back the shower curtain and arc my stream of urine high on the wall in the tub as my erection had still not dissipated. I used the shower's spray to wash down the walls of the tub.

The next morning, as my wife slid her cum-filled pussy down onto my upturned, hardened cock, she commented that it had been a long time since I had fucked her as hard as I had last night. She said she couldn't wait until I woke up this morning so she could get some more of that good fuckin'. To this day, I still use the memory of that night to harden my dick in preparation for fucking the shit out of my wife, Leslie... I mean Carrie.