Author's note: This series is devoted to my wife, for whom it was originally written. It is both a history of our sexual life as well as my means of sharing our fantasies, with alterations to names and times to protect our friends, but both the fantasy and reality are/were spectacular enough to warrant sharing with others.
**This is a stand-alone story**. As it stands, it is the sixth in the series. This one differs from the others in that it is entirely fictional, describing a fantasy I had of my wife. Enjoy.
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There she was again: my beautiful wife, sucking another man's cock. Slowly taking him in and out of her mouth, her moaning muffled while she closes her eyes and speeds up her tempo. I watch as his breathing shortens and he leans his head back; her eyes open and she looks briefly into my eyes before looking up at his face. She takes him deep twice more before leaning back on her haunches with her mouth open, smiling, cupping his balls with one hand and lightly stroking with the other. The man is overwhelmed, and cums in long ropes into her mouth and on her face. She leans in, still smiling and softly moaning as his convulsions taper off, and sucks the last few drops from the tip of his cock. Adding it to the copious amount already in her mouth, she swirls it around as she looks back at me, finally letting her mouth hang open as she slowly pushes the load out with her tongue, and I watch as the cum flows down her chin, onto her perfect breasts...
I snapped out of it and returned to reality, looking around to see if anyone noticed my mental absence. These midday fantasies were getting out of hand; I was sitting at my desk in the middle of a high-traffic office with no cubicle to hide behind. Fortunately everyone else was in the middle of planning our next training evolution and hadn't noticed my vacant expression and lack of production. Or maybe everyone just expected to that from me, har-dee har har. Either way, time to get busy before someone looked up from their own desk and started asking questions, and meanwhile I hoped no one asked me to retrieve something for them in the next ten minutes, because flight suits don't hide erections very well.
I made it through the rest of the day without incident and published tomorrow's flight schedule with reasonable efficiency, leaving me time to hit the gym before going home. My fantasy from earlier was largely forgotten, at least to my conscious mind, but I certainly felt some energy to burn off after four straight days of bitch work and no flying.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I floored it down the street to get away from the hangar before someone found something more for the New Guy to do before going home for the night. I can't really turn my cell phone off in case something serious comes up, but I can at least beg off on most shit by proximity after 5 o'clock. The feeling is like when you are racing to catch a light before it turns, and you are in that zone where if it turns yellow you will run the red light but only just.
I whipped into the parking lot and pulled into a spot near the back. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed into the gym. I changed out of my flight suit into shorts and a sleeveless tee (a small concession to my vanity) and headed into the weight room. I was surprised to see it was deserted, then remembered it was Friday--people with social lives have much better things to do than go to the gym on a weekend night.
Right. That would not include me.
After this boring week my energy level was high, and I was able to push a little more weight than usual. I'm not a meathead, but my profession requires fitness, and I keep myself about where I was playing 2nd Base in college: strong but quick. Even after completing my sets, however, I still felt like a hamster in a cage, so I made my way over to the treadmills. The room was still empty, so I started one of the machines and took off my shoes. I never really enjoyed running until I discovered going barefoot, but I respect that some people get weirded out by running without shoes or socks on public equipment. But if no one is here to see me do it, did it really happen?
I was cruising at a good pace, more or less tuned in to ESPN on one of the wall TVs when I felt a presence at my side. I glanced down at a pretty strawberry blonde smiling up at me.
"Hey, Captain, I saw you come in earlier while I was in the basketball gym," she said, smiling up at my while she wiped down the treadmill next to mine.
"What's going on, Kendra? I didn't think anyone else was here."
"Oh, you're ignoring me? I'm no one to you? After all I've done for you?"
"And what have you done for me, sweet Kendra? How have I wronged you in ignorance?"
"Don't be cute," she pouted and started counting off with her fingers, "I say 'Hi' to you every time you come in, I make sure all the machines are clean, I even emptied the place tonight so you could have it all to yourself." She gestured to the empty weight room.
I laughed. "Oh, this was your doing? The weekend had nothing to do with it?"
She stood with her hands on her hips and gave me a defiant look of 'prove I didn't.' I noticed her polo was unbuttoned and could almost see her cleavage. It was quite alluring.
"Speaking of which, why are you here and not out teasing the crap out of some frat boy?"
"Hmph. Maybe because I'd rather tease you, Captain." She wrinkled her freckled nose at me and turned, walking with a little bounce in her step that immediately drew my eyes to her fabulous ass, clad in tight cloth shorts that extended all of two inches past her buttcheeks.
All of the sexual energy from earlier came rushing back, and my mind was overwhelmed with images of those shorts around her ankles, her polo on the floor, me coming in from behind...I made it another quarter mile before it got to be too much. I stood with my feet to the sides, willing my little scout to calm down. After five minutes I gave up, and I threw on my shoes and quickly made my way out to the front. Kendra was behind the desk and looked right at my crotch as I passed. So much for discretion.
I tried to be casual as I threw the towel into the basket next to her. "Well, that's it for me, have a good weekend." I walked into the locker room to retrieve my bag.
I took a quick drink from the water fountain and made my way back to the scale. I took off my shoes and shirt, and after a short debate dropped my shorts. I'd never done that before when weighing myself, but in the back of my mind I knew the only other person in the building was Kendra, and I felt a little thrill in stripping down to my boxer briefs.
I half turned to kick my shorts off to the side and saw her standing in the entryway. I froze for a second, then stood up straight and returned her frank appraisal. Something in the way her eyes set kept me from saying anything.
She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, clearly mulling something over. Finally, her mind found its course. "Y'know, I flirt with you all the time, wear sexy little shorts for you, volunteer to work on Friday nights because I know you'll be here, and make it a point to leave at least one sexually suggestive hint every time we talk. I can see it is having the desired physical effect" --she looked pointedly at the tent in my underwear-- "but I still haven't had the intended...consequences." She pushed herself of the wall and slowly sauntered toward me.
"Now, I've seen your cute little wife in here with you, and even spoken with her when she has been in here by herself. She clearly doesn't mind that I flirt with you; I'm even starting to think she enjoys it. But," she was now standing before me and looking up into my eyes with her light blues. I could definitely see her cleavage now. "Up until now I couldn't really decide if I wanted to keep it just a game or actually follow through. I enjoy flirting with you, making sexy comments and unbuttoning my shirt for you; you're a good-looking guy and fill out that flight suit very nicely...but I've never had a thing for married men." She reached up and traced a finger down my arm, following it with her eyes. "But maybe...maybe I want to..." She said this last part quietly, almost to herself. Her finger reached my wrist and paused, unsure of where to go. My eyes were locked on her face while my nerves registered every cell of her fingertip. The hesitation drew out for a second, then her finger softly moved to my hipbone and slowly traced above the elastic band. Her hand stopped above my crotch, and my now fully-enraged penis strained against the boxer briefs to spring up into her oh-so-close grasp. With her eyes fixed on my offering she started swaying back in forth, as if dancing to a tune in her head, her hand floating just beyond contact. At last she looked up, still swaying, toying with me as a smile spread across her face.
"Yes, I think I do. So you need to find out, Captain, if your sexy little wife will share you. Because I want to play." With that last word, her finger dropped between my legs and then quickly ran up the underside of my dick, causing me to involuntarily shudder and take in a quick breath. Her smile broadened and she blushed slightly.
"Oh yes...I do indeed," she said breathily, then turned and quickly walked out, her ponytail bouncing and ass swaying.
When enough blood returned to my brain a couple minutes later, I gathered up my clothes, dressed, and walked out to my truck as if in a daze. I made it all the way to my driveway before I realized I had forgotten my duffel bag.
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I walked into my house and made a beeline for the back office, where I could hear Tori moving things around. Her current project was rearranging the closets in the house, and I walked in on her moving a box of sewing supplies. She was wearing yoga pants and a teal and black sports bra, and her black hair was tied up in a ponytail. She put down the box and stood up, smiling to me.
"You were distracting me again, today," I said, cutting off her greeting.
