Author's Note: This story is an original work of fiction. All characters appearing herein are at least eighteen, if not expressly stated. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand. Certain characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated. Email comments to the address in our profile. Thank you for reading.
Copyright 2010 by Jack and Josephine Cutter.
This story stars: Richard Cannon, Alyssa Hicks, and Douglas and Sadie Stillman.
This story contains: erotic male-female couplings, fellatio, cunnilingus, anal, analingus, spanking, rough sex, shower sex, voyeurism, fetishes, shaving, first-person narrative, and a large degree of story and dialogue amidst the sex.
This story begins post-prologue on Sunday, July 24
th
.
* * * * *
It would take her some time to prepare.
She twisted the knob and the nozzle spurted once, twice, thrice before a steady spray erupted from its end, and in the span of time before the water of the shower warmed, she turned to look at herself in the mirror.
She gazed into the depths of her bright blue eyes, searching for strength, looking for doubt, and found none of the latter and all of the former written in the features of her face. This would likely prove her last real chance to reconsider, and yet she said nothing. She did not want to, for one, although there were many reasons, most unselfish.
Her eyes lowered; she exercised regularly and worked hard to eat healthy, and her body certainly reaped the benefits. She knew hers was a fantastic figure. Her blonde hair, too, she took care of, and her teeth and her nails. She was not vain, not even close, but she did like to look good.
She turned and stepped into the shower.
The hot water gushed over her skin and she sighed, and let the wetness run in rivulets down her flesh, flowing over her curves and into all the tucked away cracks and crevices of her form, dousing her every inch. She closed her eyes and slipped her face under the fountain, and reveled in the feel of the spray upon her skin.
She reached for the bottle of shampoo to initiate the cleansing process, scented Pantene Pro-V. Gently, methodically, she worked the thick substance into her natural golden blonde hair, massaging her scalp with her fingers, digging the hair-soap in deep.
She did not linger, however; shampoo was designed to clean, while conditioner proved the more important to giving her soft, silken hair. Having rinsed all of the shampoo out, she applied conditioner to her blonde locks and kneaded it deep, too; it would remain coating her hair until the end of her shower, giving it time to work.
She grabbed the body soap and fingers caressed the cleanser into her skin, gliding easily over her flesh, and her nipples hardened suddenly and quite unexpectedly. It appeared she was anticipating her coming rendezvous more than she realized.
The soap bar slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor, and as she bent to retrieve it a thick stream of water flowed down the her back and into the channel between the bubbles of her ass. It gushed over the crinkled plot of her anus and into the pursed folds below, then plunged to oblivion below as gravity took hold.
She shivered, and smiled.
She picked up the soap and began to wash her legs, rising higher and higher, rubbing the soap delicately into her skin, relishing the simple sensations. She let slip a moan as her hands roamed over her slick breasts, her palms teasing her pointed nipples. Excited, it seemed, was an understatement. She rinsed off, the soapy suds coursing away in rivers over her flesh.
She reached for her razor and cream and spurted the latter into her hand, and applied the white foam liberally to her legs. She preferred to shave leisurely, to take her time, and so slowly she drew the razor along her skin until every inch of her legs was soft and smooth. There were no cuts and no straggler hairs to speak of.
She moved onto the next item on her little preparation agenda; she took another handful of shaving cream and lathered it between her legs. Slowly, ever slowly, she worked the blade across her nether region. She kept a thin landing strip of hair, trimmed and neat, just enough for the sake of appearances; most men she knew enjoyed a little bit of hair. She tugged at the lips of her labia and moved ever-so-carefully to ensure they, however, were totally hairless.
Once the front was shaved to her satisfaction, she bent and dabbed a bit of shaving cream between the cheeks of her ass, around her anus. There were very light, very small, very fine hairs in that region, too, but she preferred herself completely clean in back.
And so she finished herself off and rinsed the conditioner from her hair, and stepped from the shower. There were soft cotton towels hanging by the shower door; she pulled one down and dried off, then wrapped her hair in her towel to stand naked before the mirror once more.
This was one of the more important steps in the shaving process, one often overlooked: the oil phase. With great care she spread generous amounts of baby oil down and around her legs, massaging the lubrication into her damp and welcoming skin, and then into the lips of her pussy and between the cheeks of her ass.
And once she was finished and the lower half of her body was soft and clean, and her body was dry of oil and water, she stepped from the bathroom and into the bedroom, where her white silk robe awaited, the donning of which would be her final act before the events of the night began.
Part One: Questions
When my friend first asked me to have sex with his wife, I thought he was joking. After all, why would a man allow another man access to the body of his beautiful wife?
It happened on a Sunday in the dog days of July, hot outside and hot inside, and what else is there to do for a couple of guys on a summer weekend made lazy by heat than to hang out and watch a little baseball. Doug had a nice house with an excellent sixty-two-inch high-def television and the Dodgers were beating the hated Giants by three runs in the bottom of the fifth, which meant our spirits were high.
Perhaps it was the camaraderie such a situation inspires. Perhaps my friend put back a few too many beers. Perhaps it was something else entirely. I would come to know the truth, of course, but when it first happened there was little else I could think of to account for it; why, after all, would a good and loving husband let someone sleep with his wife?
The catalyst, of course, was the arrival of the woman herself.
Sadie is one of those women who catches your eye no matter what she's doing, no matter what she's wearing, no matter who she's with. She's as equally stunning in frocks or sweats as she is in formal wear, with or without makeup; she would shine standing next to supermodels. She's the kind of woman who makes other women jealous, her appeal undeniable, her beauty fresh and all-embracing, and effortless.
Her workout winding down, she swept into the room and found me perched next to her husband on the couch. She was dressed in white tennis shoes, white socks, maroon micro-shorts, and a tight maroon-and-gold shirt with the words
