This story can stand on its own, but if you want more background on Jeanie and Bob and the particular party they attended that they describe to their friend Cheryl here, you could read my earlier Theme Night and/or Film Night.
Visiting Cheryl
"Ahnnn, yes babe, show me again, show me again how grateful you are, ahnnn yes babe, ahnnnnn" it riffles up through my chest, makes my nipples sing, and my cunt gush again into my husband's eagerly lapping, sucking mouth as I straddle and ride his face, gripping his hair as I frantically pull him deeper into me even as my thighs close about his head needing to stop him, no don't stop; my blissfully happy clit sparking, making me jerk and buck as I ramble and gasp, "Ahnn, how grateful you are babe, yes, how grateful you are for getting to dance for Cheryl. Awwwh, fuck, fuck fuck..." it all goes white again; shudders and trying to push him away, but he knows and he grips my ass like a vice, and the strain in my hands in my arms as I try to push, my writhing as I try to escape, just heightens it, blows me past everything, and he knows, and he stays at me with perfectly merciless intent, lashing me into heaves and whimpers and nonsense, my body speaking in tongues under the lash of his.
Then I'm looking up at the ceiling, on my back, gasping for breath, laughing, crying maybe, having floated here somehow, laid down softly by strong, gentle arms, his careful hands holding his bliss shattered whimpering wife's shoulders, whispering; "You're so beautiful. You're so beautiful."
And it comes back to me vaguely that there may be some explaining to do over dinner, because this guest room is just a few yards down the hall from where our hostess Cheryl is getting ready, as we're supposed to be, to go out to our dinner reservation and there's no way she didn't hear...
My body shudders with an after-spasm and I curl reflexively up into a fetal position, roll onto my side and into my husband's body, his arms and that gentle repetitive whisper, "You're so beautiful."
But even as I shudder again with the remnant convulsions of my pleasure, I feel the stiffness of his cock up against the shin of my curled in leg and it all rushes back to me; him there on the poolside recliner, laid back with his legs spread wide, his thumb pressed behind the base of his erect cock to prop it upright as it bobs and spurts his semen for Cheryl and I as we sit across from him in our own lounges and...
"Ahwn, Jesus, Bob, I just can't..." shut it off. It always does this to me, just not usually quite this strongly or, at the moment, inconveniently.
We're probably already going to be late for our reservation and I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for my moaning and... who the fuck knows how loud I was being; but I'm sure it warned Cheryl away from coming to the door and giving us a friendly knock and reminder. I'm not really that embarrassed. I've known Cheryl forever and after all, we were just...
The scene flashes back into my head again; my husband's hips raised, his propped up penis still bobbing in futile, post ejaculatory spasms after jerking off and spurting his come onto his chest and stomach, and Cheryl there, smiling, cooing at him, 'Yeah, dance for me. I like that.'
Fuck. I feel like I need to go again even as my body winces in hypersensitivity at the thought. Was that three or four; like with nuclear bombs, after a couple hit the same spot, you lose track.
None of this was part of any plan; we were just at Cheryl's for our annual visit.
Two hours earlier,
"You know what this makes me think of." I said softly to Bob with a quick dart of my eyes towards the male reclining in the patio lounge by the pool.
"Yes, Jeanie, but be a good girl now." he chuckled as we stood together by the portable bar topping off our drinks before heading back to our own chairs.
"No, seriously, come on, he's pretty much begging for it." I smirk.
He snorts. "If you say so. But Cheryl isn't. Be good." he cautions again.
We head back to sit.
Bob and I were visiting Cheryl at her place in Florida to get away for a long weekend from the chills of New England in March. Cheryl had been my Degree Mentor in my days at University. She was twelve years older than me, but we became friends and never lost touch even after she moved south. We'd trade winter/summer visits each year; she'd get out of the Florida heat to visit us in July and we'd spare ourselves a bit of the Northeastern winter to bask for a few days by her pool.
She'd been married, but neither Bob nor I had much use for Duncan. Eventually Cheryl decided she didn't either. She'd been through a few 'boyfriends' since, but 'nothing serious', or at least, nothing that stuck. We'd met a couple of them. One she brought up with her a couple years back I had really liked, but it didn't last.
Bob had always been in the picture for me. He and Cheryl got on just fine but it was definitely Cheryl and I that had the strong connection. Bob was usually happier visiting when Cheryl had a boyfriend or partner on line as he felt, in his words, less like a third wheel to have another guy to shoot the shit with when Cheryl and I got going with each other on girl talk. He was in luck on that score this trip; more, it would turn out, than he knew.
Cheryl was currently seeing a guy named Ty. Ty had spent the afternoon we arrived on Cheryl's patio, visiting amiably with us (mostly with Bob) while sunning his already fully bronzed gym rat physique in a size too small speedo on a lounge opposite Cheryl and I.
Yes. The scenery was quite nice and Ty certainly seemed to know and enjoy that both Cheryl and I thought so. He had that casual arrogance of the consciously attractive; his legs opening slightly more than needed, lifting the hips and adjusting his ass on the cushions now and then as he leaned back away, his upper body reclining at a forty-five-degree angle as he chatted with Bob on the lounge next to him. Bob by contrast, was looking a bit puritan white and modest in his untanned Yankee skin and knee length bathing trunks.
I noted Ty casting the occasional quick glance in Cheryl's and my direction to check on audience appreciation. The front of that speedo looked promisingly mounded, something he would also drop his eyes to check on (admire?) now and then. I'd have gone 9's for content and 6's for style if I'd had score cards for the performance.
It really was
that
obvious.
But Cheryl seemed to love it and it was hard to fault a forty something divorcee for enjoying showing off her twenty something boy toy to an old girlfriend. I assumed that's what he was, an assumption at least partially confirmed when he had to excuse himself to go to work for his evening shift at a local resort.
"So, did you enjoy the show?" Cheryl asks, a bit red in the face but smiling.
I pause, my lips poised on the brim of my drink, glancing at her sideways, unsure whether this is a sensitive subject she's embarrassed about but feels it's too obvious not to mention, or a point of proprietary pride (or maybe a bit of both).
"What do you mean?" I say disingenuously, sip my drink.
"Oh, come on." She rolls her eyes, gets a bit more flushed, but the smile has pretty much gone from pleased to shit-eating.
"You mean Ty?" I ask, and cast a glance over at my husband still in his lounge across from us next to the one recently vacated by Ty.
"Of course I mean Ty." She laughs nervously, seems a bit agitated in her seat. "You don't have to be..." she starts, breaks off, looks across at Bob, "neither of you." she includes him, "I've known you guys forever. You don't have to act like you didn't notice, aren't thinking..." she laughs again. "I mean, he's a really nice guy," pause, "he
is.
" she insists defensively to which I shrug as if no other thought ever crossed my mind, "But okay, he's like half my age," she looks back across at Bob, "I know this, okay? But I mean..." that shit eating grin again as she fidgets and looks down at her hands, "he comes as advertised; finally, a guy who is what he says he is; and I'm having a hell of a good time."
"I thought he was great." Bob says from across the way.
"Thanks." Cheryl says weakly. "I mean, you two did seem to hit it off, Bob, even with his..." she shakes her head slightly, "whatever, in front of your wife."
"Oh, well, you know," Bob says in his off-hand way, "Jeanie doesn't get out much. A little exotic scenery probably good for wifely morale." he teases. "But really Cheryl, you don't have to explain yourself to us."
"Oh yes she does!" I say gleefully, realizing, sensitive subject or otherwise, my girl is pretty much bursting at the seams to tell us all about this guy who (she brought it up, not us) is half her age, lounging in semi erotic poses in a too small speedo 'in front of your wife' Bob. "Oh, yes you do!" I repeat to Cheryl. "Spill it girl. And yes, since you asked; I very much liked the show. So, 'as advertised' you said? Come on. This has got to be good."
Cheryl had picked Ty up on a 'dating' ap. "Really just a 'fucking' ap." she clarified, then, "Sorry, but I got sick of this stupid 'match my likes and dislikes' stuff. I went shopping and got what I ordered for a change."
She told us Ty put on his profile he was a 'nice, fit guy in his twenties,' but he was 'only interested in mature women i.e. 40-60. Looking for a short or long term, open or exclusive (woman's choice) relationship focused on fun and sex.'
"That simple." Cheryl sniffed, "Fun and sex. If I had been more honest, I would have just put that on my own profile. I read that, saw his picture and, what the hell; I pinged him. He pinged back.
"I know what you guys are thinking; yeah, the guy has a mommy complex, right? Like, who could possibly think 40-60 year-old women were sexy? Well, you know what? He
does
, and I don't care why. And he knows how to demonstrate his sincerity on that as many times a night or afternoon and in as many ways as I want or can handle and still walk afterwards. Fuck walking, he'll bring the coffee to me in bed and carry me downstairs for breakfast, fuss over me like I'm doing him some great honor to let him screw me. Sure, I know, he's vain and a showboat and gets off on being young stud eye candy for my women friends. I could sell tickets to my girlfriends for the matinee show like the one you just got.
"But so what? They love it when they come over and he's here. Sort of fun to have them all giving me the green envy eye. I love seeing their faces when they come over and he puts it out there like he just did for you. He makes no secret about it either; tells me not only does he like making my friends jealous but that he finds them all sexy and loves lounging for them. They're all the right age, like me. He says he's plenty happy with being my exclusive boyfriend, but if I get bored with him, he says, he wants me to recommend him to any one or all of them as a potential date. Yeah, that's what I mean by 'as advertised'.