Quick little story about an adoring older cuck servicing his horny younger wife who delights in telling him of her recent triple tryst. Loving, consensual domination is prevalent in this story, as is creampie eating.
*****
Jeff drove down the quiet street toward his house after his usual day of teaching at university, noticing a truck coming the other way. A work truck. Bearing the name of the pool-cleaning service he used. Inside the cab, three young men sat.
The truck slowed when the driver noticed Jeff. He rolled down his window.
"All set, Mr. Saunders," said the driver, a lanky 20-year-old named Bruce, smiling at the 70-year-old man.
"Uh...OK, thanks, Bruce..." Jeff said nervously, looking at the two other men, boys really, both 19 or 18 who looked at him and laughed as they then looked away. "What...what do I owe you, should I write a check now?"
"No, no, Mrs. Saunders, uh, took care of us...of the bill, she..uh, she wrote the check," Bruce said, barely able to contain himself before driving off.
"She took adequate care of you? Tip as well, I suspect?" he asked with a wan smile.
"Oh, yeah, tipped VERY well, thanks!" Bruce said, giggling. "She always takes...adequate care of us!"
"Good, glad to hear it," Jeff sighed as they drove away.
Jeff heard the laughter booming in the pick-up's cab as he sat in his car in the middle of the street. He looked in the mirror as the truck rattled down the street. He looked down the road toward his house. He jumped when a car slowly pulled up behind him, beeping. His chest tightened as he drove toward home.
He pulled into the driveway, turning his car off and staring up at the house he'd worked so hard to provide for his wife of 40 years, Elizabeth, working still at his age to provide her an easy lifestyle. Provide her good things. Provide her whatever she wanted, needed and had to have.
He thought about what was facing him, and how at one time he hated it. That hate didn't last long, once he saw how it so thrilled his wife, a beautiful woman he'd adored since they met in college so many years ago, where he was a teacher, she a student 10 years younger than he. It was before children, before grandchildren. It was just the two of them now, again. He loved being alone with her. He would do whatever it took to keep her happy.
Even if it meant facing what was facing him now, again - and he reveled in it, ashamed yet alive. His tiny dick stirred in his dress pants in a way not even his usual Viagra could provide, if it could at all at his age. His doctor said stress could cause impotence. If only he knew.
He willed himself to gather his belongings and walk inside, heart pounding in his chest. As if what awaited him were new. As if this hadn't happened so many times in recent years. As if Liz hadn't let him know what would truly make her happy and he gave in to her, unwillingly at first, then accepting his fate.
And loving it. Because she did. And he loved her.
He went inside, put his briefcase down, looked outside on the pool deck. She was there, of course, a beautiful woman of 60 looking far younger, her silky blonde hair light and wispy and caressing her smooth, tanned shoulders, a gentle breeze blowing the strands across her bare, smooth shoulders.
She wore a white bikini, hardly befitting someone her age if that someone didn't have the body of a woman much, much younger. A body hard with sinewy muscle from her personal training sessions. A body relaxed from her usual massages. A body smooth and practically wrinkle free from constant visits from her male beauticians.
They were all young men, these men who attended to her. Young and handsome and capable.
He looked in the hall mirror. He couldn't blame her, he thought. He looked old, stooped, worn. And so much older than his beautiful wife. Many was the time they were mistaken for father and daughter. It made him cringe. It made Elizabeth beam with pride.
He walked outside, smiling at her, she smiling back. He let his gaze linger at her feet, her long, gnarly toes so sexy and inviting, up her deeply tanned, well-formed calves and thighs, over the amazingly tight little belly, past her well-preserved and ample breasts, onto her alluring neck with just the slightest hint of wattle, to her brown beaming eyes and beautiful smile.
God, he loved her, he thought. Always. Every way. Even this way.
"Darling, welcome home," she cooed, walking up to him, her giant boobs shimmering and quivering as she walked, long legs etched in flowing muscle as they moved her toward him. "Give us a kiss..."
He knew the plural personal pronoun's significance; he was an English professor after all. She glided into his arms, strong and smooth and wrapping around his neck, and they kissed, long and deep, her tongue slashing into his mouth, his hands down her smooth back, feeling the slight wetness of her sweat.
"The pool boys were just here, and they did an amazing job," she said softly, breaking the kiss.
"I..I know...I saw them on the way down the street...they do...they do good work, don't they?" he moaned into the sweet warmth of her slightly crinkly neck, licking her savory perspiration and nibbling at the meatiness of it.
"Oh, do they ever," she hissed, drawing his mouth to hers for another sloppy kiss. "Tasty, aren't they?"
They were. Or one of them was. Or all three, he didn't know, didn't care. He kissed her, the flavor of them still on her lips, her tongue, inside her capable mouth.
"God, yes, yes," he groaned, kissing her madly, the scent and taste transferring to his eager mouth, a salty tang to it he knew all too well.
