Miss Perfect Wife

Dick and I have been married for twelve years, and we still love each other dearly and probably want to make the other happy even more today than we did when we first got married. Like most American men, he likes to fantasize about me "doing-it" with another woman, and I have done it three times for him with friends of mine, each time with him deriving more pleasure from the experience than I did.

For several years I've known that he often imagined me and Leslie, who he works with, doing it. In his mind we were a perfect pair: both (now) in our middle thirties, both working mothers (although she is divorced), about the same height, with similar (not skinny) figures, so we wear about the same dress, and bra, size; and she has blonde hair while mine is black.

There had never been an air of animosity or arrogance between she and I, but when we have seen each other, mostly at corporate dinners or parties, after saying an obligatory "Hello, its nice to see you again" we've generally gone in opposite directions and ignored the other the remainder of the evening.

That happened again, for the most part, at a dinner in July. The Happy-Hour and dinner went as described above but afterwards, in the bar, while I was talking with another wife, Leslie was bragging loudly about a recent award she had won when my husband stole her spotlight by saying "That's nothing, Sharon was recently voted…".

Leslie shot me an angry look, and I could tell she was hurt and I thought about walking over and apologizing, but I didn't – partially because it felt good to hear my husband brag about me.

Dick and I had gotten a hotel room for the night, so there would be no need for a designated driver and so that we could make love without worrying about one of our kids running in and asking "What's you doing?", and maybe forty minutes to an hour later we had just closed its door and were kissing and beginning to help each other out of their clothes when we heard a knock on the door.

"What?", "Who could that be?" we asked each other.

Dick checked through the peephole and said questioningly "Its Leslie."

When he opened the door she sauntered in, possibly more inebriated than we were, saying "Hello" to Dick and then moving close to me.

"Well if it isn't little Miss. Perfect Wife" she slurred, and then she asked "Looks like I interrupted something. How'd you like to try wrestling in bed with me, instead of him, tonight?"

Before I could respond Leslie toed off her heels, I had already done that to mine, and she stared at my face with cold eyes before reaching her left hand up and brushing my hair away from my face.

She did it gently, but I automatically caught her wrist with my right hand, and when I did she stepped forward and wrapped her right arm around my back, and pulled me towards her, like we were going to slow dance.

Dick took several quick steps towards us, but I told him "No, its okay."

But I wasn't really sure of that.

My brain was busy sorting through the signals it was receiving of our bodies pressed together, our busts mashed together, our nylon covered legs touching the other's, her warm breath on my left cheek and hair as her face moved past my eye angle. Her "wrestling…me" echoed confusingly in my mind, and left me unprepared when she began to lick and nibble my ear lobe.

My right hand and her left dropped and I sighed a mixture of pleasure and nervous anticipation, the latter of which grew as she drew her head back to where I could see her face, and then as she moved it to her left and towards me my eyes automatically closed and my mind went blank.

Dick told me later that our mouths opened and met in a hungry kiss, and that Leslie finished unzipping the dress he had been doing earlier and then helped me unzip hers. I can remember looking across a small gap at her pushing her dress down, I don't remember how mine got to the floor, and watching her slip her bra straps down her arms, and turn it, and unhook it, and toss it to the left – towards Dick.

And I guess I did the same, because the next thing I remember was her stepping towards me again and me feeling the excitement of being about to press my nearly naked body into hers.

I was so nervous that I wanted to scream as our breasts met, and I did shriek when I saw mine flatten, but recovered when I saw hers flatten an equal amount. My anxieties remained high as we rolled them between us, up-and-down and side-to-side, I had to match her, I didn't want to be embarrassed by her!

Just as I was feeling comfortable with that, I realized that Leslie's fingers were in both of my ass cheeks, and that she was pulling and pushing me up on down her thigh, and that she was riding mine.

And that friction was making me hot, physically, and sexually.

We straightened our bodies up and kissed again, deeply. This one I remember because my eyes were open, looking at the bed, wanting to be there with her like a thirsty man (or woman) looking at a pool of cold, clear water - but feeling her pushing me back, and down, onto the little settee.

I watched, a bit intimidated, as Leslie took her pantyhose off, then as she knelt and took mine off. And then, as she ran her finger through my trimmed bush, and female folds, my body and mind were filled again with a mixture of apprehension and excited anticipation. Yes, no, please, no, don't hurt me, don't make it feel so good, no, no, more please.

Then Leslie stood, and stepped forward, and mounted me like Dick does. But it didn't feel the same. Her wet mat press against mine, and her labium folds slipped across mine, and opened mine like little fingers. Then Leslie rocked her hips into mine, that felt almost like Dick, but when she leaned forward her two jiggling juggs were unlike anything Dick has.

We humped together for several minutes, I thought she was going to get off on me and I wanted to, but I needed, or thought I needed, penetration. She maybe did too, we both reached down several times and inserted our finger, or fingers, in the other, briefly.

Then Leslie grabbed my wrists, and lowered her body onto mine, and rubbed her tits on mine and kissed me again, teasingly. And I said "Please", pleaded softly "please", then watched as she sat back with a "Got you!" look on her face.

Leslie arched her back and squirmed herself around on me, and I felt it. It was, not small, but not huge, though slightly larger than mine, and it was hard, now, and unhooded, and when her clit flicked mine my body jolted so severely that I bucked her to the floor.

In the several minutes that it took me to gather my senses, Leslie picked up her dress, and shoes, and bra, and went in our bathroom and made herself presentable.

When she reemerged, I asked "Don't you want me to, do you?", and she smiled and said "Next time", before opening the door and leaving Dick and me alone for the night.