Baby You Can Drive My Car 1

This is the sixth and final chapter in a series that began with "Thin Ice" and continued through "Tapas". As with the others, this story is about cuckoldry and wife-sharing so if that's not your thing please choose another story. There are plenty on this site to appeal to every taste.

Thanks to everyone for the feedback and encouragement - I really appreciate it!

Characters are totally fictitious and over the age of consent.

*****

There was a strange car in the driveway. He slowed down, squinting through the falling snow. It wasn't his wife's car - presumably hers was safe in the garage. It was a small car, yellow and sporty-looking, a car for somebody who wanted you to notice their car.

He cruised past the driveway to the next corner and came back, his windshield wipers working double time. Was it just a visiting friend? He didn't know all her friends' cars. But he couldn't help feeling that this car was in the driveway deliberately, to let him know what he would be walking into if he went inside. Like a tie on a doorknob.

A lover's car.

He drove down to the next corner and turned in a random direction. Judging by the snow accumulated on the roof of the little car it had been there for a while.

She'd never brought a lover home before.

At least, not that he knew of.

He frowned and turned again at the next intersection.

Abruptly he heard a tone from his phone. An incoming message. He pulled over and, with his hands shaking slightly, got out his phone. He tapped the screen. A video popped open.

There were some tendrils of her hair floating across the edge of the picture. The phone must have been lying on her pillow, next to her head. Up in the middle of the screen were a man's face and his naked shoulders. The rhythm of his movement made the shot rock from side to side. He leaned down and from offscreen there was the sound of a kiss.

"I'm fucking you," the man's voice said hoarsely. His head rose back into view.

"Yes," said a woman's voice, her voice, his wife's voice. "Fuck me, just fuck me." Her hands came up and held onto the man's face. She moaned. "Yes, like that."

He stared at the little screen, watching and listening. The face moving forward and back, the little whimpers she made offscreen. He fumbled with his belt, unzipped his pants.

"I'm going to come," the man croaked. His rhythm had picked up, he was pounding into her, his face distorted in a grimace.

"Not yet," she said. "Oh God... keep on... yes."

"I can't," the man said. "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God."

"I am so hot," she said, her words running together in a throaty rush. "I'm burning up inside, it's like you've set me on fire. Your cock is... Oh God."

"Tell me to fuck you," he growled.

"Fuck me," she groaned.

"Harder!" he demanded. "Say it!"

"Oh God!" she waited. "I need it! Harder! Fuck me harder!"

"I can't stop," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm going to come."

"Yes! Come! Oh God! Fuck me!"

"Oh my God!" The man threw his head back, the tendons in his neck bunching like cords.

"Yes!" she cried, flinging herself up. Her body finally lurched into view, wrapping itself around the man's torso. She drove her face into his shoulder. "Fuck me, come come, oh my God, fuck me."

Then the phone must have fallen off the pillow and the screen went black. From the background came a confusion of grunts and moans, gradually settling down into a duet of guttural breathing.

"That was amazing," the man said.

"Yes," she agreed. Then the video ended.

He tapped the screen and watched it again, watched the stranger rocking and thrusting, getting closer and closer until the final groaning release.

And through it all, just out of view, his wife.

He started the video again, watching the man's face, waiting for his wife to throw herself forward, listening to the voices. His hand was moving up and down his cock, pre-come lubricating it. God. That man, fucking her. Sliding his cock into her cunt, feeling the warmth and the wetness and the slippery softness of her.

There was a roar outside his car and a huge truck barreled past, flashing lights splitting the night. The city was out, spraying salt on the streets.

Jesus

. The flashing lights had spooked him - it might have been a cop car.

This is insanity,

he thought,

sitting here jacking off on a public street. This is how people get arrested.

Hurriedly, he zipped up and stuffed the phone back into his pocket, then started the car.

---

He drove slowly, aimlessly, trying not to think about his phone and the video, but unable to focus on anything else. Every squeak of his wiper blades, every gust of wind, reminded him of the passionate cries of the two lovers. His cock was not getting any softer.

Periodically he would cruise up his street and see if the sports car was still there. The snow was covering it more thickly now. Maybe he should go somewhere - shit, he didn't even know if the car would leave at all tonight. Maybe he should go find a hotel room or something.

At least in a hotel room he could jack off.

An hour passed, an hour and a half. Insanity. Somebody was going to think he was casing the neighborhood and call the cops.

But then he saw it, the little car coming towards him on the snowy street. It slid a little bit as it turned the corner and then disappeared. He didn't try to see the driver but he noticed that there was no passenger. Another block and he turned into his driveway, pulling into the snowless gap left by the yellow car. He turned off the car and sat for a moment. His heart was pounding and his throat felt tight. Okay. Time to go in.

The lights were off on the first floor but when he banged the door shut he heard his wife calling from upstairs.

"It's me," he called back. He took off his coat and laid it on the banister, pulled off his boots. Then he looked up the stairs and she was standing at the top, naked. Her arms were hugging each other.

"Hi," she said. She smiled at him. "Come on up," she added. "I'm getting cold."

He followed her up and stood in the bedroom door. She had already crawled into the bed and drawn the covers up.

"Brr," she said. "What are you waiting for? Get into bed and warm me up."

But he hesitated. The room felt strange, the bed didn't look right. The smell was not the smell that the two of them, him and his wife, left in the air. Sweat and semen, he thought, but not his semen.

He undid his belt and slowly stripped off his clothes, got into bed.

Her body was damp in his arms. He looked into her eyes, feeling her belly against his, then leaned forward to kiss her. His head swam with the warmth of her, the softness of her skin, and he flexed, pushing his erection up against her.

"Mmm," she whispered. "That's nice."

He made a contented noise and kissed her again. This felt familiar at least. How could it be, that there'd been a stranger in his bed just minutes ago? It felt unreal.

Her hands gripped his shoulders and she moved slightly, took one of his thighs between hers, his cock still hard against her belly.

"Did you like the movie?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Who was that guy?"

"Arthur," she said. "Nobody you know."

He didn't answer. He moved his leg slowly between hers.

"Mmm," she said again. "That is very nice. Is it nice that I'm still turned on for you even after having fucked Arthur?"

He kissed her again. "I want to fuck you," he murmured.

"Not quite yet," she said. "Where's your phone?"

He paused. "My phone?"

"I want to watch it with you. The video."

"Why not on your phone?"

"Your phone has a bigger screen," she said.

He reached off the bed and grabbed his pants, found the phone and opened the video. She lay on her side, holding the phone. He pushed up against her from behind, watching the video, his cock pressing hard between the cheeks of her ass.

"It's strange to watch," she said after it ended. "I mean..." She rolled in his arms and faced him. "You really like watching it?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Why? Well, it... turns me on."

"Watching another man fuck your wife?"

He paused. It was complicated. Maybe it was more like "watching my wife fuck another man" but he wasn't sure how to explain the distinction.

She was scrolling through his phone, had found the photo album labeled simply "Her". Photos she'd sent him, scenes of her past adventures. She paused on the first one, the one she'd sent from a hotel room after her first time with another man. She crowed.

"Look at that cock," she said. It was an arresting sight, a hugely erect (but wet and obviously post-coital) cock with her hand wrapped around it. She looked over at him and smiled. "You save all these photos," she said. "Do you look at them?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"Do you jack off with them?"

'Yeah," he said. "Sometimes."

She sighed. "I'm so glad you like them," she said. "It makes me feel like... you know. This is us. Not just me. I would never have... gone with anyone else. You know that."

"I know."

"But when you told me..."

His mouth closed on hers. He knew what she was going to say. He was thinking about it too, about how it had all started, with just a lot of hot talk about a man she found attractive. How turned on it had made him, had made them both. How he had finally told her, his heart in his mouth and the words coming straight from his cock, "I want you to fuck him."

Things had never been the same after that.

She moved next to him, again capturing his thigh between hers so she could rub against him. "I love you," she whispered.

"Me too," he said.

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she asked.

"I'm dying to," he told her.

"Mmm,' she said. "This is nice. Isn't it?"

"Yes," he said. "But I really want to be inside you."

She laughed softly. "What if I've had enough fucking for one evening?"

He paused. "You haven't, have you?"

"No," she said. "There's always something left for you. Lie back."

He lay back and she straddled him, rubbing her cunt against his cock. His hands came up to grip her ass.

"The problem with Arthur," she told him. "Is he always wants to be on top."

He didn't answer.

"And you know," she said. "Sometimes a girl likes to be on top as well." She lowered herself slightly, taking the tip of him inside her. "Was that a hot movie?" she asked him.

"So hot," he assured her. "Fuck me."

"I will," she said. She wiggled her hips. "Tell me how hot it was."

He was starting to feel a little irritated. He wanted to fuck, not talk about a movie, even a hot movie.

"I kind of wish," he burst out. "I could have seen your face, not his."

"You mean watching me come?"

He paused. "Yeah."

She rocked and his cock slid further into her and back. "You can watch me come like this," she told him. "Up close and in real life."

"You're never really in any of the movies or the photos," he said.

"No," she agreed. "I'd rather not be. Visible I mean."

He thought about this. It kind of made sense but it still would be nice to have a video of her lost in orgasm, or at least a photo. One that showed her face.

"I'll tell you what," she said. "No movies but I'll see what I can do."

"What do you mean?"

She leaned down and kissed him. Her mouth opened and her tongue slid into his. Her hips shifted and suddenly he was inside her, all the way in. He thrust upward into her, feeling the warmth of her around him, the pressure of her thighs against his sides.

"Yes," she murmured, rocking. The movement of her body was exhilarating. He kept on thrusting upward, driving himself into her. It was all he could feel or think about, his cock and her cunt, her body on his, breasts pressing against him, hands gripping him. In a moment, in another moment, but not too soon. God.

She sighed. "Yes," she said again. "Like that." Her eyes closed. His hips were bouncing up and down on the bed now, driving him into her.

"Oh..." she said. "Oh fuck me. Yes. I'm coming. Oh...." She moaned. "Oh. So good."

And now it was time. It was a shattering, shuddering thing. As the fluid spurted out of him and into her, his head spun. There was nothing like it, nothing that came close. His legs were still driving him upward, still pushing his cock deeper into her cunt. And then he was done, emptied, and he lay there gasping.

She was lying on his chest, also panting. "God," she said.

---

It snowed again three days later, on Valentine's Day. He drove home impatiently in the gathering dusk. The streets were a mess and it didn't pay to rush things when conditions were this bad but he didn't want to be late. They had dinner reservations, she'd made them, she wouldn't tell him where, wanted it to be a surprise.

He had a surprise for her too. It had been tough, finding the right present for her this Valentine's Day - the first one since she'd started... well... since their marriage had changed. Jewelry had always been his go-to gift. But the ornaments for her body were now part of what she shared with her lovers. Even in that first photo, the one of her gripping the cock, her rings, wedding and engagement, and a beautiful delicate bracelet he'd given her, were part of what made the shot so vivid.

It's not that he didn't like to see her jewelry in the photos. It just made it more complicated, thinking about buying jewelry that wasn't just for the two of them.

He'd even wandered into a lingerie store but had retreated almost immediately. The ambiance was totally wrong - selling sex without being sexy. Perky young sales-girls, enormous posters of scantily clad, inaccessible ice-maidens. It bore no more relation to real sex than a pink frosted cupcake does to steak tartare. He had made his way back to the jewelry store and pondered his options a little disconsolately.

But then he saw it. It was a neck-chain with two charms at the end of it - one the Venus-symbol of a loop with a cross and the other the Mars-symbol of a loop with an arrow poking out the top. They were elegant, stylized, delicate, and they hung on a ring at the bottom of the chain as an emblem of couplehood.

He asked to see it and held it in his hands. "I wonder," he asked the girl behind the counter. "If you could make a small change to it?"

"Like what?" she asked. She was young, pretty in a sweetness-and-bubble-gum sort of way and he wasn't sure how to say it to her.

"Could you add another Mars, another male symbol, here?" He pointed on the other side of the Venus. It would be a woman between two men. They would jangle together, the woman bouncing off the two men, their arrows touching her in turn. It would be perfect.

The girl stared at him, wide-eyed. "Um, probably," she said. "I'll have to, uh... check."

"Could you please?" he asked patiently.

The woman who had to be consulted was older and did not remind him of bubble gum. She gave him a narrow look and nodded. "Of course," she said. "No problem. When do you need it?"

"The fourteenth," he said. "Or earlier."

She gave him another look. "Valentine's," she said. "Okay. but it won't be earlier."

And now here he was, driving home with the box in his coat pocket, on Valentine's Day. And as he finally drove down the street to his house, he felt good. It was going to be a good evening.

That's when he saw the car in the driveway. But it wasn't the small yellow sports car, Arthur's car. It was a huge black sedan with tinted windows in the back, a Mafia don's car if Mafia dons actually rode in cars like that. He pulled up in the street and stared at it, then he got out and walked towards the house.

She was in the bedroom, applying makeup.

"Oh wow," he said when saw her. She was wearing a new dress, bright red and very short, spaghetti straps grazing her bare shoulders. She smiled at him.

"Hi,' she said softly. "Happy Valentine's Night."

"Wow," he said again. "You look... hot."

She fluttered her eyelashes. "That's the goal," she said primly.

He paused, suddenly uncertain. "I have something for you," he said. "I don't know, I thought I'd give it to you now, in case you wanted to wear it." He held out the box.

She smiled at him again and took the box. "I have something for you too," she said. "I'll give it to you after you get dressed." She tore off the gold wrapping paper and opened the box, then stared at the necklace and slowly took it out. She held it up against her neck, looking at it in the mirror. The two male charms bounced against the female between them and shone in the light.

He edged up behind her, putting his arms around her waist, then kissed the side of her neck.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's... beautiful," she said slowly. "But rather.. blatant, don't you think?"

His heart sank. "Oh," he said.

"I mean," she said. "For the right occasion, yeah." She caught his eye in the mirror. "But what would be the right occasion? It's kind of a strong statement... I don't know. What do you think?"

"I don't know," he said miserably. "I thought it was kind of fun, I guess."

She nodded and patted his hand. "I'll wear it," she said. "I just need to think about when. Maybe at home when it's just the two of us?"

He nodded. She turned in his arms and kissed him. "I love you," she said softly. "You're the most thoughtful husband in the world, maybe the most thoughtful husband in world history." She gave him another kiss. "Okay?"

He nodded and disengaged himself. "I need to get dressed," he said, a little gruffly. It hadn't gone as well as he had hoped it would.

"Yes," she said. "Then I'll give you your surprise."

He started to turn away to go to his closet then stopped. "What's with that huge car in the driveway?" he asked.

"That's part of the surprise," she said. "Now get dressed."

He dressed with care, aware of the standard she had set with her hot red dress. He snuck a peek at her, intent on her makeup. She was wearing black lace stockings with a subtle pattern of hearts. It was Valentine's Night after all. A pair of gold shoes lay at her feet. Her gaze shifted and she caught his eye.

"Almost ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "What time is our reservation?"

"We're fine," she said vaguely. "Come here and let me look at you."

Obediently he went over and she stood up to inspect him. She adjusted his tie and then inclined her face up to his.

"Kiss?" she said.

He kissed her and she sighed happily.

"Okay," she said. "Time for your surprise. Close your eyes, no peeking."

He shut his eyes and he heard a drawer opening and closing. She took his hands and put something in them, something soft on one side and smooth on the other.

"Okay," she said. Her voice sounded nervous or excited. He opened his eyes. It was a hat, a grey cloth cap with a small black visor. He stared at it blankly, then looked at her.

"Uh, thanks," he said. He paused. "Why..." he began.

She lifted a finger to his lips. "I have something to tell you," she said. She was definitely nervous now. She took a deep breath. "I have a date tonight."

He stared at her. "Yes," he said. "It's Valentine's. We're.."

"No," she interrupted. "I have a date with Arthur." She paused. "You're going to drive us." She gave the hat a little wave. "It's a chauffeur's hat. And the car outside..."

"I get it," he said. But he still didn't understand.

"It's what you wanted," she said quickly. "What you said the other day. You know... about wanting to watch me... and him..." She trailed off.

"Jesus," he said.

She bit her lip. "Maybe I misunderstood," she said softly.

"No... it's..." He shook his head. "Just give me a second to think... you mean you'd do it in the car with him? And I would... be there?"