A Game Of Inches Ch 01

I sat at my usual table with my usual order of coffee watching the usual people rushing in and out as they went about their usual morning routine. I could spend this time each workday getting a little extra sleep, but I quietly treasured these selfish moments between home and work. It was my chance to be alone, think my thoughts, and forget about all the expectations, obligations, and disappointments in my life. A tall woman walked into the coffee shop. This morning, her long, light-brown hair was subtly curled with sensual intent. Her green eyes flashed with purpose. Her body offered promises that would never be granted to an ordinary guy like me. I sat up a little straighter in my seat, dropped my left hand under the table to conceal the presence of my wedding ring, and watched her move through the crowd with effortless grace in her high-heeled black pumps.

Here was the other reason I enjoyed spending time at the coffee shop before going into the office. This beauty was just one of the many women who were unknowingly part of my fantasy harem. She had no idea how many times I had fucked her in my mind. No clue about all the unspeakable things we'd done to each other. Wasn't even remotely aware that she played a vital role in my sex life with my wife. I loved Carol, that wasn't the issue. Nor was it anything physical. Carol had a cute body, kept fit, and was as pretty as the day we met. It was just that everything between us had become so...so very usual.

The tall fantasy woman's loose white blouse made it difficult to tell if she was wearing a bra or not. My eyes were drawn down to her rear end. It was on the flat side, long and slender, blending into her thighs with only a slight hint of the transition. What held my attention, however, were the skin-tight jeans she had on. They must have been some kind of stretchy material, definitely not real denim despite the look. The fit revealed every curve, no matter how subtle. It was the snugness in the crotch that excited me the most. I had to wonder if she wore this style to stimulate herself. Did the fabric pressing up against her crotch rub her pussy while she walked? Was her clit hard right now? How turned on was she at this very moment? Would she object if I stepped up behind her and ran my hand between her legs? If I pressed a finger along her womanly crease and sought out the stiffened nub of her arousal?

"You need this?"

I was startled out of my reverie by a twenty-something hipster with a ridiculous maze of facial hair.

"Dude? Okay if I take this from you?"

I nodded and he spun the chair away from my table and offered it to an unkempt girl wearing four or five layers of mismatched fashion. My woman was striding out with her steaming cup in hand. I smiled reflexively, but she didn't notice me. I was just a grey blur in the background of her world. So many nights this exquisite creature was solely responsible for getting me hard and keeping me that way while I fucked my wife. She was an important part of my life, but to her, I was invisible and always would be.

I sipped my coffee, checked my watch, and waited for my erection to subside before walking to the office.

~ ~ ~

I couldn't sleep. My mind refused to settle itself enough for slumber. It stepped through the various members of my fantasy harem. I imagined coffee shop woman's pert tits and wondered if her pointy breasts were tipped with a blushing pink or a dark shade of provocative brown. I envisioned the bubbly intern at the office sitting on my desk in nothing but a pair of red satin panties and opening her legs for me. I pictured my personal trainer sucking me off while I fought my way through a set of shoulder lifts. Then, an unexpected addition: my wife's sister giving me a hug. It was an innocent enough hug, just like the one she'd given me last Christmas. Nothing sexual or inappropriate, just a normal, family-like hug. But, for me, there was more.

Sonya was on my mind because my wife had mentioned she was coming for a visit. She said something about a bad break-up or losing a job -- maybe both. I wouldn't say that my sister-in-law was better looking than my wife, but she was more attractive in many ways. Mostly it was her personality. She was always labeled as the troublemaker in the family, but Sonya was the only source of excitement they had and so she served as everyone's guilty pleasure. The women of the family often tsk-tsked the number of men Sonya had slept with, but their judgment came with a certain amount of unspoken envy. Just receiving a hug from a woman who was so open and giving with her body gave me a prurient thrill that left me feeling dirty for the rest of the day - dirty, in a good way.

I rubbed my erection through my boxer shorts. The few times Sonya wrapped her arms around me, I was always keenly aware of her breasts pressing against my chest. I was conscious of my flaccid cock against her belly. None of these kinds of thoughts likely occurred to her. Nothing about her sister's painfully average husband would prompt such lascivious notions for a woman like her. It was just another chaste hug that was forgotten the moment it was done with. But, what if I was bold enough to slide a hand down and squeeze her ripe ass? What if during one of those innocent hugs I let myself get hard enough that she couldn't ignore what was against her belly? Would she be enticed? Might she want to try some of what her well-behaved sister had been getting all these years?

I massaged my hard-on knowing I'd reached the point where I had to do something about it or I'd never get to sleep. I could creep away to the bathroom and jerk off. Or I could quietly stroke myself there in bed, trying to be careful not to wake Carol. Even if she did wake up, she would most likely do the polite thing and pretend to be asleep.

"You don't want to jack off. You want to fuck, don't you?" It was Sonya's voice coming from my own mind. "Don't hold back, Marc. Go ahead and do it. I want to watch you fuck my sister."

Jerking off would have been quicker and easier, but I didn't want to disappoint the ethereal desires of my phantom sister-in-law. I wanted to do it for her, to be seen by her. Could I impress her? Could I turn her on?

I reached for my sleeping wife. My hand caressed her breasts through her nightshirt. I moved my touch down over her belly to her bare thigh. She stirred. I tickled my fingers over her mound, which was covered by sensible cotton underwear.

"Marc...?" She murmured sleepily.

I slipped a hand under her shirt and found one of her naked breasts. She moaned as I lightly twisted a nipple. I didn't have the patience for much in the way of foreplay -- her sister was waiting to see me fuck. I climbed on top and my wife compliantly opened her legs. I licked my fingers, wet the tip of my cock, pulled Carol's panties to the side, and entered her. This was answered with another sleepy moan.

"Yeah, shove that big cock in your wife's pussy," Sonya encouraged from somewhere in the darkness. "Show me how you like to fuck. I'm watching."

I began to fuck. It felt good, so much better than my hand. Warm, and slippery, and tight. Carol remained all but still, though she gave occasional hints that she was at least half-awake. To be honest, it wasn't all that different from when she was fully awake. I tried not to think about that and continued to pump in and out of her accommodating hole.

"Yeah, fuck her," Sonya's voice spurred me on. "If you like my sister's pussy, then you'd love mine. I'd fuck you so good, Marc, you have no idea."

Seconds later I was quietly emptying my load into my wife's body. I normally tried to give her an orgasm before I came, but under the circumstances, she didn't seem to care. Carol patted me on the shoulder, and I got off of her.

"Thanks, honey, that was nice. Love you." She adjusted her panties, rolled over, and was back into a full sleep a few seconds later. I suspected the next morning she'd be wondering why there was cum leaking out of her pussy.

"If that was me, I'd be riding your cock for the rest of the night," Sonya said from the shadowy recesses of my mind. "Thanks for the show, stud. Let's do it again sometime."

I was too relaxed to feel guilty about using my wife's sister in my fantasy while fucking her in a mostly-unconscious state. It wasn't like I really wanted to do anything with Sonya, or, even if I did, she most likely considered me about as sexy as an old kitchen stool. No matter, it was just a harmless fantasy. Nothing I'd ever have to deal with in real life.

I found myself looking forward to my visit to the coffee shop the next morning as I dozed off. Maybe I'd find a new candidate for my harem.

~ ~ ~

I glanced up from my newspaper each time the door jingled. I was disappointed by the new arrival most of the time, but the occasional win made it worthwhile. Like, for instance, the fresh-out-of-college blonde maneuvering her way past a pair of buttoned-up businessmen in their off-the-rack department-store suits. I made a quick survey of her. Painted-on yoga pants made of some type of shiny black stretch fabric. A white tank top over a sports bra that was doing its best to contain a pair of healthy C-cups. Probably in here to reward herself after a morning jog. I could almost imagine the scent of her light, feminine sweat. How much would I pay for her to let me nuzzle my face up into her crotch? Maybe I wouldn't have to pay. Perhaps she had a daddy fantasy and would let me maul her sweaty pussy through those thin jogging pants with my mouth.

"There was a time when a girl would be arrested for walking around like that in public."

An old guy was standing by my table admiring the jogger's ass along with me. He shook his head and smiled wistfully.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked politely.

"Sure, no problem," I said, noticing that there were a couple of empty tables he could have taken instead. I'd seen this fellow here a few times -- large black, one sugar. He was probably just lonely and wanted someone to ramble to for a little while. I returned to my newspaper and the item about Syria, listening for the tinkle of the door.

"I didn't know they still printed those," the old guy joked. "You should try one of these." He held up his smartphone and pressed an app that opened to the front page of the Atlanta Journal.

"I like having something real to hold onto," I explained and turned the page.

"Don't we all...don't we all..." He took off his glasses, plucked a handkerchief out of an inner pocket, and polished his lenses, smiling at the busty blonde as she turned to go. She actually smiled back and gave his shoulder a kindly pat as she went by. "If only I were ten years younger."

Ten years? Maybe forty, I mentally scoffed. And even that would be pushing it. Though he probably was an okay-looking guy back in his day, but not someone who could land a hot piece like her.

The old guy chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, but what if I told you I've made love to over a thousand women?" He sipped his piping hot coffee with a smirk at getting me to look up from my paper at that. "And, I intend to sleep with a thousand more before I'm done."

His first statement got my attention, but his second proved that he was simply delusional. "Good luck with that," I offered flatly.

"Once you get started, it's hard to stop. I often wonder if I'd have been happier with just one woman. What is that like, Marc? Only ever having been with just one woman?"

This got me to look up again and make a closer inspection of the man's face. Did I know him? Did he somehow know me? I never made a secret of the fact that I'd lost my virginity to my wife about six months before the wedding and hadn't been with anyone else since, but it certainly wasn't something I advertised. Was there something about me that gave it away? Maybe the way I looked at other women with such pained longing? Or was he just taking a stab in the dark?

"I'm sure I don't know," I replied crisply.

"Sure, sure, I get it." He leaned back and smiled. "What if I told you there was a way for you to have any woman you wanted? The girl that just left and took her magnificent ass with her, for example. Or the tall brunette that gives you a steely hard-on every time she comes in."

I tried to appear unruffled by his too-familiar observations. "Sounds lovely, but I'm married."

"You left out happily."

"Happily married." At least I'd always thought of myself as happily married, but not for the first time I wondered if I was lying to myself. Looking at other women didn't mean I didn't love my wife.

He sipped his coffee, keeping one of his keen blue eyes fixed on me. He extended a hand. "Paul. Polynices, actually, but Paul is easier for most people to remember."

I shook his proffered hand, finding his grip strong and his skin soft.

"Is that Greek?"

"Yes it is," he answered with an odd twinkle in his eye. "And so is this." He placed a large, obviously foreign, coin on the table and pushed it toward me. The thing appeared quite old.

It was well worn, obscured by a dark patina of age. One side seemed to be the profile of a woman, which seemed odd. From what little I knew of the ancient world it was always the king or emperor who appeared on coins. I picked up the relic and turned it over. The image there was complex and indistinguishable. I placed it back on the table. As soon as I did, I had the strange impulse to pick it up again, but I restrained myself.

"Interesting."

"More than you know." Paul was clearly eager to tell me something - like he had a secret that he'd been keeping for too long and he couldn't wait to tell. "It's magic."

"Is that so," I said, glancing past him to see that it was only a haggard mother with a kid on her hip who'd just come into the shop. I checked my watch. I still had ten minutes before I had to get going, but maybe I could excuse myself early and take the scenic route through the park to my office.

"I know you don't believe me, but it's true." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "But this kind of magic isn't your usual kid stuff." He held the coin up between us. "This little baby will give you the power to fuck any woman you want. Any four women, to be precise."

I couldn't help but smile and shake my head. "As I said, I'm married." I began gathering my things to go. "Happily married."

"That's part of the magic, she'll never know. Just think about the possibilities." He reached out and grasped my wrist before I could stand. "That sexy gal in the jogging pants. The lanky green-eyed number." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Or even your wife's sister."

It gave me a queer feeling inside when he said that. How could he know? It was impossible. Was he inside my head, or just some kind of con artist taking a calculated guess? "How did you...?"

He waved off the question. "Every guy wants to fuck his wife's sister." That was probably true enough. "Especially when they're a little on the wild side." It suddenly became weird again.

"I should be going--"

His grip tightened around my wrist and the first inklings of fear made themselves felt. He turned my hand over, pressed the coin into my palm, and closed my fingers around it into a fist.

"Tell you what. Hold on to this for one day. I'll be here tomorrow morning. If you want to give it back to me, that's fine. No harm, no foul. But if you think you'd like to hang onto it, I'll let you know what you're getting yourself into and you can decide if you want to accept this little gift of mine or not."

"I really shouldn't--"

"Put it in your pocket, try to forget about it, and we'll talk tomorrow." He squeezed my closed fist as he stood. I was again surprised at the strength of Paul's grip for a man his age.

Before I could make another protest, he was headed out the door. What an odd man. I opened my hand and looked at the antique coin with its uneven edges and rough thickness. I briefly considered if it was worth anything.

I didn't have much of a choice but to humor the old geezer, whatever his game was. Maybe nothing more than an unfortunate case of dementia. I slipped the coin into my pocket and became very conscious of its heaviness against my thigh. Instead of being a nuisance, as I would have expected, it was somewhat comforting knowing it was there with me.

I held the door open for a pleasantly plump woman with a pretty face and stepped aside to let her by.

"What a gentleman," she chirped and favored me with a big smile that accentuated her cherubic cheeks. As she passed, she put her hand lightly on my arm. "And such a sexy gentleman at that." With a flirty wink, she continued on to the counter.

Two more people came and went as I stood there dumbly holding the door. I was so used to being all but invisible to women, any woman, that I wasn't sure if that had really happened. Did the old man somehow hypnotize me? Or, more likely, it was just a random coincidence that I had encountered two crazy people one after the other.

I made my way to the office along the same sidewalks I'd followed for years, yet everything was somehow different. Or, maybe not different, just...somehow more. I was noticing little things I'd never seen before and finding something uniquely uplifting about each person I passed along the way. Maybe it was just the random compliment from the chubby lady, but I was feeling uncharacteristically confident; like I was standing taller or newly aware of my own untapped potential.

Despite feeling it bouncing in my pocket, I reached in to reassure myself that the coin was still there safe and sound. I somehow knew it was going to turn out to be a good day.

A very good day for sure.

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