I met Jeff my first day at college when we were assigned as roommates and we've been like brothers since. He met Jennifer after we graduated, they got married, and started their family. Our careers grew at different companies but at similar paces, and we ended up living about two blocks from each other in a very nice neighborhood of too-big houses, on large lots, with manicured lawns, and pools. Our families are very close, with their kids almost growing up in our house and our kids at Jeff and Jennifer's. A half-dozen years ago, Jeff and Jennifer moved away when he was promoted and asked to relocate to Texas from Southern California. They didn't want to move and tried telecommuting but they couldn't make it work. They took the leap, settled in Austin, and fell in love.
Christopher, their only son, just graduated from school in New York City and was in Southern California for a couple of job interviews. He was traveling at his own expense and his parents called to ask if he could stay with us for the ten days he'd be in town; of course we said yes. Since our two daughters are off to college, we're left with a large five bedroom house for just the two of us. There was plenty of room and it'd be fun to see Chris. When they moved away, he was a smart, skinny, awkward, 16 year old boy, afraid of girls, and infatuated with my wife. I overheard him once, at my oldest daughter's first boy-girl party, telling one of the other boys that, "Mrs. Peterson makes my wiener grow." He was maybe 12 or 13 years old. I had to stifle a laugh and when I told my wife, she was so embarrassed, she didn't go back in the room for at least 30 minutes. Once she did, she kept looking over at Chris and he was staring at her. It was fun seeing her become so uncomfortable.
We were both very excited to see how he'd grown and were trying to get our kids to come home that weekend to see their old friend. It probably wouldn't happen since our oldest was a junior and was staying in the Bay Area to work as an intern with a local company. And our youngest was staying at school, helping with the last minute details for her trip to study in Florence that summer. That left us making plans for the weekend; trying to get time with him but not cramp his style. When the doorbell rang Andi smiled, jumped up, and rushed to the door.
Before I made it around the corner, I heard her "Chris! We're so happy you're here. Come in. Come in."
Chris sure had changed. He had to be 6'2", broad shoulders, with dark curly hair hanging over his collar and ears. He was well muscled but not big, with an easy smile, seeming to have grown out of his teen shyness.
"Thanks Mrs. Peterson." he said, but in my mind all I heard was "Mrs. Peterson makes my wiener grow."
I smiled as I extended my hand "Wow! Look at you."
He looked every bit the recent grad. His jeans were worn, his shoes were about to fall apart, and the gray t-shirt with "Columbia" arched over the front looked like it wasn't fit to be a dust rag.
"Thanks Mr. P." as we shook hands.
After a minute or two of perfunctory chatter about flights and traffic, I took Chris up to one of the two guest rooms. I left him to get settled and cleaned up. As I made my way back downstairs, I was thinking of my beautiful wife and Spring Break the year earlier.
Andrea, my wife of 24 years, is very attractive, but her appeal is more subtle than in-your-face lingerie model hot. She's a little taller than average at 5'6", has piercing green eyes that are wonderfully complimented by her thick auburn hair. She is pretty but not a classic beauty; leaning more toward the girl next door than the cover of Vogue. For a mother of two, in her mid-forties, her body is firm and shapely. She works out and runs to keep healthy, staying within a few pounds of 125. In fact, she'd run neck-and-neck with any thirty-something. I think she's spectacular but she sees faults in herself that I don't. She looks in the mirror and sees a single cellulite dimple where I see a shapely ass. She sees the slightest sag in her chest and I see beautiful upturned nipples sitting on near perfect C-cups. It's not like she doesn't get compliments. She tells me about her clients occasionally complimenting her, some even coming on to her when she travels for the law firm shes with. When we go out, men scan her body and smile. It's great for my ego and it should be for her too, but she didn't seem to notice. I'd pointed it out to her but she'd say I was imagining things. That all changed last March.
Our oldest wanted to take a trip to Mexico with her friends but, for a few reasons, we wouldn't pay for it. More than a little disappointed, and after exploring every option to fund her trip, her and a few of her friends stayed at our house. She showed them Southern California and they lazed around our pool for the week. The group included three guys, two of whom spent the entire week shamelessly flirting with my wife and using every chance to get close to her. It got so bad at one point, my oldest daughter angrily confronted them. Their moves were lame. If Andi was in the kitchen, they'd reach over, press themselves lightly against her, while reaching for a glass from the cabinet. I watched as one of them stood by the outdoor kitchen and waited for Andi to pass by. When she did, he turned suddenly, and startled her. He reached around her waist and pulled her close as if saving her from falling. Andi pretended to be mad but I knew different. With each passing day, she dressed a little more provocatively and gave those guys plenty of chances to run a hand over her ass or look down her shirt. And I got all of the rewards. Her fucking got hotter and louder every night and stayed that way for a month after they left. A couple of weeks after they left, she told me about the zenith of the flirting and teasing.
On the second-to-last day my daughter, and the three girls who came down from school with her, went shopping, leaving my wife home alone with the three very horny guys. I was at work that day and she decided to go bra less under a gauzy white blouse. As she was rounding the pool, one of the guys pushed her in. After making a show of protesting, she swam to the shallow end and climbed the steps. The soaked and then translucent material revealed her perfect, hard nipples as she slowly emerged from the pool. She paused long enough for the boys to cheer and cat call before she strutted into the house without looking back. She rushed upstairs and fingered herself to orgasm. A couple of times since then, she's opened up about that week and admitted it took all of her self-control to keep from screwing them. Playfully I'd tell her that if she ever gets the chance, she could jump one of them, but only if I could screw one of our daughter's friends.
She'd always say the same thing "Deal. Good luck you getting any young stuff!"
I'd fake disappointment and whine at her "But chicks dig me right?"
For the last year, the thought of my wife having sex with a younger guy became more and more exciting and based on our conversations, it was more and more a possibility. That's what I was thinking as I descended the steps.
I walked up behind her and slipped my hands around her waist, rested my chin on her shoulder, and said "Dang. Chris sure has grown,"
"Yep."
"I would have never guessed how he'd turn out that night when he told the Lorenzo kid that you made his wiener grow."
She sharply punched her hips back and half turned her head toward me "Gawd you're a perv."
"I'll bet he feels that same way now."
"That's Chris!" she told me in a mildly scolding tone. "He's like one of our kids."
"You watch. I bet he doesn't think about his Mom when he looks at you. Jerry and Bill didn't last year. Wasn't that their names? Jerry and Bill?" I questioned.
