This is an erotic story, meant only for adults to read and enjoy. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is not intentional, but if it helps you to imagine yourself or your spouse/lover/significant other in any of these roles, then you have my permission to do so. I considered putting this in Loving Wives, because it has elements of that, but I get tired of the hatefulness. This is first and foremost a love story between a husband and wife, with others involved. I hope you enjoy it; keep on loving and living!
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An Anniversary Toy
How'd I get here? I mean, for once, I get the Why, just not the How. Okay, that's not it either; I mean, obviously I can recall the process, all the steps taken to get me here, but...how did I get to this point, the point where this was...a thing? A thing I wanted. A thing I agreed to. A thing I wanted. A thing I craved.
**********
And yet here I am. Here WE are. I'm sitting in the marginally comfortable hotel chair. My hands and ankles are cuffed to the legs and arms. The reality is that I could probably escape if I wanted to, but then I was the one who had clicked them shut. Indeed, I was the one who had placed the chair there by the foot of the bed. The one who had reserved the room. The one who instigated this whole night.
And then there's you. At the moment, you're just three feet away from me, but out of reach. You're clad in the stuff men's fantasies are made of. A shiny black corset pushes your generous, soft breasts upward, creating a wonderful valley between them. Yours are not the breasts of a college girl; these are the wonderful boobs of the mother of two: Sexy, full and inviting to a lover. At your waist sits a garter belt, also black, clipped to black fishnet stockings. On your feet are impossibly high black heels.
For as sexy as all of that is, my attention is drawn to some of your accessories; four of them in particular.
Around your left ankle is the silver anklet, with the little heart charms dangling from it, which I gifted you at our last anniversary. That had been a tense evening, as I explained the meaning behind the gift. You'd been shocked at that; the idea that I was opening our marriage, well, your side of it, anyway. You were suspicious at first, thinking this was just a ploy to allow me to play around, a concern that took me a while to dispel. Then anger, then curiosity, then wonder at why I was doing this. Finally, in a perhaps foretelling posture, I knelt at the table in the restaurant and, to the amusement of some of the other patrons, fastened the anklet around your left ankle.
Then there are the pearls, the double strand of pearls, the Mikimoto necklace I'd spent a fortune on for our 25th anniversary. Each pearl was in excess of 8mm in diameter, strung on white gold. That was partially a selfish gift; you were fully aware of how sexy I find a strand of pearls hanging between a pair of full breasts. That night, you'd obliged my predilection. That night, you'd been dressed somewhat like you are tonight, a surprise hidden under your little black dress the whole time. When we got home, you pushed me down on a chair in the living room, dropped the dress, and straddled me. The moonlight streaming through the window behind me illuminated the curves of your breasts, the blue hue somehow making them seem even softer, more seductive, and bathing the pearls in the soft glow. That had been one of the most memorable nights of lovemaking in all of our marriage, with us christening the chair and the dining room table before finishing in our marital bed.
And now they highlight what will certainly be another memorable night. The pearls are a surprise; I didn't expect to see them. Their presence stirs up conflicting emotions; fondness, nostalgia, and no small amount of jealousy.
And then there's the last two items. The first is the newest, and it is also new to me, though you knew about it ahead of time. I hadn't seen it until after the last cuff clicked shut on my left wrist. Smiling, you'd turned and retrieved it from your bag. Returning to me with it in your hands, you'd knelt before me, smiling, as you secured the collar around your neck. Pulling your arms up and behind your head to buckle it raised your breasts almost free from the cups of the corset, and this distracted me for just a moment. Then I looked up, and gulped as I looked upon the word, written in silver, adorning the front of it.
"SLUT"
The sight of it made my pulse race; this was real. Very, very real.
And the last item was the wedding ring I placed on your left ring finger 26 years ago. We were kids then, just two young kids too stubborn to listen to adults, too foolish to know better, too much in love to wait. Over the years, the stubbornness and the love had borne us through much adversity and a lot of foolishness, most of it being mine. We'd raised two good kids, seen them through childhood, the minefield of adolescence, the hell of teenaged years. The oldest, Seth, was a professor in Maryland, his younger sister Sarah had just begun a residency at Emory Hospital in Atlanta as an internal medicine doctor. We were now empty nesters. Through all those years, that ring had remained on your finger, a testament to the commitment we had made to each other and kept through thick and thin. The diamonds on that ring amounted to 2 carats, which represented a humongous investment for a young Army PFC at that time. Those diamonds now reflected the light from the corner of the room, twinkling occasionally at me, as if to mock me with each movement of your hand, as if to mock me. At least that's how it felt to me.
And your hand was moving quite a bit at the moment.
**********
Once you finally agreed to indulge my fantasy, the next next phase was the details. The internet was full of information, but making something like this happen in your own world was different. We weren't young singles, looking for action in the meat market of youth. Ours was a world of school sports, church functions, careers and maintaining a home in the 'burbs. If any of our friends from this world were into any freaky stuff, we didn't know about it, and we certainly weren't going to go asking around.
Another factor that made the realization of this...idea difficult was you, or more specifically, your desires. As hesitant as you had been in the beginning, once you had embraced it, I was surprised to discover your escalating eagerness. I had proposed scenarios, scenarios that included certain types of people. I even used personal friends and coworkers as examples.
Not that we were considering including people from our circle; that was one of the first things we ruled out. But that didn't mean I couldn't use "What about someone like Charlie?" or "I know you've always fancied, Jim; what about someone like him?" A few of them you shot down immediately, a few you seemed to consider, but I could tell that none of them, not even Randy from your office elicited the excitement I hoped.
And then one night, after several glasses of wine, you finally outlined what you were looking for. I'm a pretty open-minded guy, and I've gotten my rocks off to a wide variety of porn and erotica over the years. And you've been pretty good about indulging a lot of my kinks and twists. So to say I was surprised is saying a lot.
I guess the shock registered a little bit on my face, because you kind of blushed, and it wasn't just the pinot grigio bringing color to your cheeks. I couldn't help but smile, though; here was my sexy wife of over a quarter of a century, and she was still a creature of mysteries.
I put my hands under your chin and gently lifted your face to me. I smiled at you; I can never really resist smiling, especially when I'm looking into your smiling green eyes. They are my kryptonite, and that night I could see the fires of lust smoldering in them. A wise man knows to never forsake opportunities to stoke those fires in his wife.
"That...is fucking HOT," I said to you. My words of affirmation seemed to ease your embarrassment. "And if that's what you want, if that's what you have in mind, we will definitely make that happen."
"Really? You're okay with that? Are you sure? I mean. It's kind of...I mean, I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything. It's just that...well, that's been my...my fantasy...since, well, honestly, as long as I remember."
I guess it shouldn't really have been that big of a surprise to me, considering your background. Raised in a conservative Christian home where racism was not openly supported but tacitly observed, the few friends you'd had of other races and nationalities had been strictly school relationships. The expectation in the Harris household was that you and your sisters would marry young white males and produce white offspring. Even with your stepfather long since dead and your mother in a retirement community near your sister and brother in law, those influences had, as far as knew, kept your desires along the straight and narrow path. Racism had no place in our house, something we had mutually agreed upon very early in our relationship. But I figured that those influences during the formative years of your sexuality would probably limit your spectrum of lusty fantasies. Little did I know.
After that initial disclosure, though, it seemed the pace jumped up two or three notches in the search for the right person. I think knowing - knowing for sure - that you had my support even though your idea wasn't what I originally had in mind, it was as if that broke down the last barrier within you. Several times over the last month I noticed you on your phone or laptop, your fingers working feverishly, your breath a little rapid as you presumably communicated with prospects for our adventure. Occasionally I was the beneficiary of your excitement as you set the phone aside and basically attacked me. Most of the time it was you rolling over and going down on me, getting me hard enough that you could mount up and ride me to orgasm.
On one night, just a week before tonight, though, you took a different approach. Finally laying aside your phone after an apparently heated text conversation, you practically ripped your panties down off your hips and off your legs. You'd been kind of secretive for the last week or so, hiding your phone screen from me, telling me you wanted to build my anticipation. It was effective, though it also stirred some jealousy as well. That night, you quickly straddled my torso, but then you moved up, not down my body, scooting up until you were straddling my face, whereupon you basically dropped your pussy down right onto my mouth.
"Eat me! Eat my pussy! Get that tongue in-, yes, YES!" you practically growled at me. You ground your pussy on my mouth as you spoke, and with one of your hands, you reached down and pulled at my head. For my part, I licked furtively at your pussy, alternating licks up and down your lips, swirls of my tongue around your clit, and thrusts of it up into your hot hole, which was flooding my mouth with your juices almost immediately.
I had no track of time from my position pinned beneath you, nor did I have any desire to know how much time had passed since you straddled my face. I was content to lay there and pleasure you until the end of time. The Apocalypse could have found me there and I would have died happy. In reality, I think you spent about 20 minutes riding my tongue, but I would have gladly spent more time.
When you'd finally had enough, you rolled off of me onto your side of the bed, exhausted. I, on the other hand, was hard as a rock, and I wasted no time in rolling over onto you, taking advantage of your relaxed, spread-legged position to mount you immediately. My cock quickly found its way inside your soaking wet tunnel. You only barely responded, so complete was your orgasmic release from earlier, but I paid no mind. Madly I pounded away at you, hungry for my own release. You managed to bring your thighs up against my sides, and placed your arms around my neck, but it was looking into your eyes, kissing you, that's what finally broke the dam. With a last few spasmodic thrusts, I drove myself into your clutching wet depths and fired salvo after salvo of cum into your depths.
When my heart finally settled down and my cock softened, I pulled out of you and rolled off to the side.
