Against my better judgment, Harley and I entered the bedroom. Adjusting to the dim light cast by the tiffany lamp, we found my wife lying on her side, her long black hair splayed on the pillow like an ink spill from an artist's pen. Her alabaster back was half hidden under the sheet, the curve of her body swooping down from her shoulders like a roller coaster bottoming out at her waist and then climbing back up at her hips.
The smell of Zest soap hung like a wispy cloud over the bed. Silently, I lifted the sheet and slowly pulled it down her languid form. From our vantage point, we could see her right breast cradled in the crook of her arm, the pink nipple soft and supple looking. As the sheet slithered lower, Harley let out a raspy gasp. One more little tug and her naked ass was showing, porcelain white and glassy smooth. She was in a relaxed fetal position, revealing her anus and the back of her puffy pussy.
As we tiptoed to the end of the bed, I took a deep breath, and with one final flick of my wrist, removed the last corner of the sheet from her beautiful body. Now we could see everything. Her labia appeared to be protruding from between her legs, almost as if her shaved sex was two sizes too large for her body. With her slit smooth and pink, the twin mounds all puffy and round, it looked like her whole body had been Photoshopped to perfection. Even her anus looked impeccable, like it had never been utilized for it's intended purpose.
Standing at the end of the bed, we could smell her sex; a rich animal odor tinged with something sweet, like candy. I crouched down for a better view, letting Harley know he could do the same. From this new vantage point, we could see that her slit was glistening wet, like a woman's mouth when she licks her lips before a kiss.
As we stood back up, I could see Harley readjusting his dick, aiming his hard-on out the side of his shorts, no doubt. Of course I was sickened by the thought of this loser scumbag having any sort of intimate relationship with my wife, but that was not the plan - at least not yet.
As we crept to the other side of the bed, Harley feasted his eyes on my wife's perfect tits. They're not large by any means, but they are proportioned in such a way that when you see them from the side, they appear to be slightly pointed, but when you see them from the front, they're more roundish. I admit, when I first met her, it was her tits that infatuated me, but as I got to know her, I realized there was much more to this lovely woman than just her amazing body.
Staring down at her angelic face, so peaceful, so innocent, I was struck with a profound feeling of loss, knowing that what I was about to do would change us forever. Letting out a quiet sigh, I reached out and gave her shoulder a tender nudge. As if in slow motion, she rolled over onto her back, her right arm flopping to her side, her soft breasts sliding across her chest searching for their new center of gravity.
She was lying still now, her right tit settled with its rapidly-puckering nipple aimed directly at the ceiling, her left one pointing off to the side, which was a common sight for me, since that's the one I woke up next to every morning. While Harley stared, I crept back to the foot of the bed to make further adjustments.
Meg's left leg was bent at the knee, but her right one was straight, affording a less than ideal view of her beautiful cunt. Carefully, with a gentle and loving touch, I pulled her right knee up and out, opening her up as if she was beckoning me to make love. Suddenly, Harley was at the foot of the bed next to me, his mouth hanging open, his breath raspy, almost as if he was snoring. We stared at my wife's pussy for a long time. It was totally exposed now, the lips pursed, the hood over her clit revealing the tiniest hint of her shiny red bud.
With my last ounce of resolve, I leaned on the bed with one hand and then reached up with two fingers to nudge her labia open. She flinched when I touched her, and her breathing changed, becoming sporadic, labored. By this time, Harley had given up on hiding his hard-on. It was as obvious as if he had stuffed a pistol in his pocket.
