Marci opened the drapes herself to begin her weekly show promptly at seven. Her jacket went into the closet and her white blouse onto the bed. Her bra was black and lacy. At close range, her dark nipples could easily be seen. I doubted they could be seen at a distance. She had just begun, and already they were standing out. Before removing her bra, she pinched her nipples through the flimsy material. She kept her eyes on the glass door.
Like she had done the first time, she turned her back to the window, then reached behind her back and unhooked the bra. Turning back to face her audience in their darkened apartments, she held the bra in place with one hand while pulling her arm out of the shoulder strap, then switched hands to free the other arm. Once both arms were free, she held both cups in her hands and leaned forward. She dropped her hand pulling the bra down to expose her lovely 36Ds. Again, she pinched and pulled on her half-inch nipples until they were rock solid.
She wore her miniskirt again. It came off next revealing her black thong. After kicking the skirt aside, she did a few bumps and grinds. I don't know where she learned those moves, but she did them very well. She may have had a few lessons I didn't know about.
When she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the thong to pull it down, I entered the room. She stopped and acted surprised to see me. I walked over to her at the foot of the bed and wrapped my arms around her waist. She responded by placing her arms around my shoulders. Our lips met in a tender series of kisses. We stood with our sides to the window to give the audience the best possible view of our actions. My hand closest to the glass caressed her back, then crossed over her side to her breast. I played with her huge boob for a minute, then ran my hand over her tit and kneaded it gently. Marci began kissing my neck. A moment later I kissed hers.
Marci's body against mine, whether she was dressed or not, always excited me. Her near nudity that night was nothing new. Many nights we stood in that same spot, she only wearing her thong and shoes. I was fully dressed. I usually had the beginnings of a boner at that point, but that night I was already solid. My cock was trying to rip my fly open. She sensed my distress and opened my belt buckle. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside. As she struggled with my fly, I kicked my shoes off. Holding one sock with the opposite foot, then the other, I bared my feet. My pants fell, and my shorts followed.
My dick stuck straight out. Marci squatted and took my shaft between her lips. I don't know which aroused me more, her suction on my cock, or knowing we had an audience. I could hardly wait to enter her dripping tunnel, but I knew I had to. She cupped my balls with one hand while the other held my prick. My breathing became ragged. I pulled her to her feet. She stretched out across the foot of the bed. I grabbed the waistband of her thong. She raised her hips so I could pull it down. Slowly I drew it down her legs. Her thighs spread open, and I buried my face between them. My tongue slid easily into her puffy slit. The instant I touched her clit, she screamed with passion. Her legs held my head immobile and trembled violently. Normally I would have continued to work on her pussy, but my balls ached for release.
I rose up on my knees. She got up and knelt in front of me with her bottom in the air. She reached between her legs, gripped my shaft, and led it to her waiting hole. I slipped into her dripping vagina. So far, everything went according to plan. We were in profile so our fans could see my meat moving in and out of her cunt. Now for the hardest part. I was supposed to thrust into her for two full minutes before my climax. My breathing was deep and rapid. I doubted I could do it. My thrusts were slow and deliberate. I had to hold down the friction on my glans to refrain from shooting off too soon.
Marci, on the other hand, was busy frigging her clit. Her screams were deafening. Her pussy muscles tightened. I was slowly being pushed out of her. I continued to pump. Surreptitiously, I checked my watch. Only thirty seconds had passed. Never had my passions been so inflamed. Knowing I had an audience drove me crazy. My hips moved faster and faster. "Come on, Honey," she said between pants.
"Not so fast," I said. "It's too soon."
"Who cares? I want you to cum now."
She was right. I banged her harder and harder. My nuts pulled up. I couldn't breathe. My back arched. I couldn't move. Marci pulled back. My dick sprang free and pointed upward as my first wad of sperm flew through the air and landed on her back. More and more seed shot out of my shaft until I collapsed on top of her. Neither of us had the strength to move. Somehow, I managed to get up and stumble to the drapery cords. She laid on her side facing the window while I struggled to close the curtains.
Five minutes later the phone finally rang. "Hello," she said weakly. I don't know what was said, but that call was much longer than previous ones. At one point, she glanced briefly at me, then concentrated again on what she heard. "Okay," she said just before she rang off.
"That was a long thank you," I said.
"He's still gasping for breath," she said.
The following week flew by. Every night we fucked our brains out as we recounted our feelings when we had fucked in front of the whole apartment complex, our excitement, our passions, our horniness. Marci didn't bother with her teddies or bikinis; she greeted me in the nude.
Tuesday rolled around again much faster than we expected. During the day, the time dragged by. Around three o'clock, the boss called me into his office to inform me I had to work late. My heart dropped to my feet and leapt into my throat at the same time. There was no way I could stay late, but I couldn't tell him why. How could I tell him I had to fuck my wife in front of two hundred people? I wracked my mind to find an excuse to get out of it, but there was none to be found. A special order had come in, and everyone had to pitch in to fill it. It wasn't a big job, but it could lead to more business. We would all probably be home by nine. Somehow, I got the impression that he thought I had something to do with the order. That totally confused me. I was a welder, not a salesman.
