This is Andy. I'm not available right now. Leave a message.
Beep. Andy, this is Kirk. I hope your message box can hold a long message.
Last week I had the opportunity to conduct business in Dallas again. Although I made very little money it was my most enjoyable visit ever, thanks to you Andy. Since we know very little about each other, let me tell you a little bit about the circumstances that led me to your beautiful wife Gina.
I've been to Dallas seven or eight times in the last year. Hell, I'd be there every week if I could find any business justification for it. I love Dallas because I believe it has more beautiful women per capita than any other city in the world. Dallas women prove their beauty by wearing the most revealing clothes the law will ignore. Glimpses down braless blouses and up pantyless miniskirts are infrequent in every other town I visit, but in Dallas they are routine.
It had taken several years, but I finally found the ultimate place in the Metroplex, an intimate little dance club named the Inwood Lounge that was always brim full of beautiful women. I don't know how they do it, but the women are all lookers and somehow they keep out the dogs. The club caters to couples with successful husbands and trophy wives dressed to tease. They are the same men that would have been at the country club a few years ago, but not now. It's better to avoid confrontation with ex-wives.
I see the pride and the power these husbands feel when their adult toys walk, sit, and dance to display themselves to other men. There is rarely jealousy from these men—after all they pay for the clothing intended to exhibit exactly what it is they get to fuck. The underlying mood that encourages flirting is a major appeal of the Inwood Lounge. The girls linger when bending at the waist or when squatting, and the directions of bend and squat are clearly intended to entice. They wink, smile, and cross their legs in ways that let men see they enjoy this exciting brand of foreplay at least as much as their husbands do.
My hobby is seducing these gorgeous trophy wives, but the twist in the game is that it is only fun if it is done with the full knowledge and consent from their husbands. I'm good, both at the game and in bed with the wives. There have been many requests for return engagements, but in Dallas there is no need. There are many more seductions I could make than there is time to make them, and the stimulant that keeps me hard for so long is that I am really seducing a married couple, not just a married woman. My ego grows each time I successfully conquer the will of an obviously powerful man and the cunt of his conspicuously gorgeous wife. It's a double stroke for my self-esteem, and the game's rewards are both physically and psychologically addictive.
Like I said, I have been to the Inwood Lounge many times and I have seen many beautiful women, a fair number of whom I have seduced. Last week, two couples with whom I had successfully played the seduction game were in the lounge. Seductive glances from both these gorgeous wives left no doubt each was ready to sample my cock again, but I really wasn't interested even before your wife walked through the door on your arm.
An unjustly maligned adage goes, "I may not know much about art, but I know what I like". Well, it applies to my taste in women, and I know exactly what I like. My brain's file folder is the result of a lifetime of comparisons, and I know exactly what I find the most arousing on a woman. A perfect-ten woman means each of her anatomical features must be so perfect it will uniquely arouse me. More important than the individual features, however, is how they combine. The features must mesh so perfectly that the total woman must arouse me more than the sum of the combined features. Last week, in the Inwood Lounge, I saw the first perfect ten of my life. You brought her for me.
I immediately committed to exclude all other women in the club from my persuasion game, fully aware that this decision severely reduced my chance for seduction success. Instantaneous decisions were atypical of me, and the energy jolt to my system was both potent and surprising. This rush of positive reinforcement induced me to study your wife with intensity surpassing even the concentration I had when preparing for my Ph.D. orals. I guessed that she was about 5' 4", and that her petite frame carried about 110 pounds. She didn't have one ounce of fat on her body, and every part I could see was lightly bronzed. Her skin was perfect, and there wasn't a mole, freckle, blemish, pimple, blackhead, birthmark, or tattoo visible anywhere. She could easily have been a college coed, but I also knew she could be older despite her fresh and innocent appearance.
Her facial features were independently lovely. Large, widely spaced, emerald green eyes sparkled with interest and excitement as she casually noticed the eyes of nearly every man in the club focus on her body. Her nose had the classic shape of European beauties, and her mouth was wide and perfectly symmetrical on her oval face. I saw her smile several times at you, and when she did it reflected her own happiness as well as radiated joy for you to receive. Wide, sensuous lips and just the hint of dimples at the end of her mouth framed her perfectly aligned, brilliantly white teeth. Her hair was straw blonde with a gentle natural curl, and it hung so it barely grazed her shoulders.
Your wife's lips were glossed in brilliant red. She had a pink blush on her cheeks that may or may not have been natural. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were brushed and her eyes were outlined so artfully that they could have been professionally applied. In fact, her entire face was so perfectly made up that she could have come directly from the makeup room at a movie studio. It would have been easy to believe she was an actress or a model.
Her face was beautiful in every sense of the word, and the whole was greater than the sum of the parts. Facial expressions reflected her love for life, and her countenance was never crossed by expressions of dissatisfaction, anger, or bewilderment. Intelligence was transmitted through her eyes and through her expressions.
But I would never give any woman a perfect ten without an incredible body to accompany the face, and your wife had a body that was absolutely perfect for my taste. She was long waisted and pencil-thin from her abdomen to her firm, proud breasts. Her waist was framed by ideally shaped tits above and by her tight protruding ass below. I was guessing about all sorts of statistics concerning her body, so I guessed her measurements to be 35C-21-34. The most important consideration was that whatever my guesses were didn't matter. Whatever she was—height, weight, age, measurements, hat size—it was perfect.
Her legs had the muscle tone and shape of a Vegas showgirl, and they were long in proportion to her height. Her arms were thin and shapely, and they moved gracefully to emphasize her points as she spoke. Shoulders covered by only the thin spaghetti straps of her dress were smooth and flowed sleekly to her beautiful neck. I got hard just by thinking about kissing it.
Diamond earrings, a thin choker diamond necklace, and a gargantuan engagement ring next to her wedding ring looked wonderful. She wore at least 3" spike heels, and a dress. If you counted her jewelry and her shoes, she wore 8 things. Since I didn't count them, she only wore one item of clothing, and it was the hottest dress I had ever seen.
The material was very thin soft cotton that draped smoothly over every protrusion or crease in her body. It was a light crème color—just light enough to detect the color difference between her aureole and the rest of her tits. I couldn't see any color difference at her crotch, so she was either shaved or her pussy hair was so light it was invisible. Long spaghetti straps over her shoulders were the only barriers to seeing everything on her body from the portion of her tits just a couple of inches above her nipples to the midpoint of her back. Three more spaghetti straps on each side connected the front and back halves of the dress, but a gap of at least two inches separated the two halves. The front half was designed so both the inner and outer slopes of each of her tits were displayed. The plunging v-cut displaying the inner slopes of her breathtaking tits extended to just below her sternum, and the outer slopes were even more enticingly revealed because the front and back halves of her dress weren't connected for at least six inches below her armpits. The back half went from the midpoint of her back to a hem no more than four or five inches below her cunt. She wore her dress with the pride one has when they know they can do something extremely well.
I was close enough to hear her laughter, and it had a clear, feminine pitch that matched perfectly with the undeniable joy in it. She was conspicuously proud to be with you, and she listened intently when you spoke to her. Her eyes never left yours while you talked to her, but when you were silent they would occasionally glance around the room to observe the eyes of all her other admirers. It was easy to see your beautiful wife was accustomed to being watched, and the attention she was receiving didn't embarrass her at all. She knew her beauty was enough to stagger, and she appeared to enjoy the power over men it provided her.
You were drinking expensive champagne, and I guessed it might be a special occasion—perhaps your anniversary. I was in a guessing mood, but again my guess didn't matter. She drank each glass quickly, while it was still very cold, but waited for a reasonable amount of time between glasses. Very sensible, but not your way. You drank quickly and frequently, so you finished at least two for every one she drank. Your second bottle was opened long before I decided what I wanted to do.
The booth you sat in didn't hide her legs at all, but the muted lighting made it difficult to see under the table. I could barely see her legs, but I could see enough to see them continually swinging in time with the music. After her fourth glass of bubbly you still hadn't danced with her. I sunk enough coins in the old-fashioned CD jukebox to play four slow dance songs and waited for the first one before I purposefully walked to your booth.
"Evening."
"Hello". You apparently spoke for your wife as well because she just looked at me. Her expression was a questioning one, and I could see she was interested in finding out why I had interrupted your evening together.
"My name is Kirk." I looked you in the eye as I spoke. "I've been closely watching your beautiful wife for quite a while."
Your expression didn't change, so I knew my admission didn't surprise you. Nevertheless, I was sure you didn't know it. Your lovely wife knew full well that I had been staring at her for a long time. I had been one of those she noticed looking at her when she glanced around the room. I didn't glance away when she caught my eye, and our eyes had briefly locked several times.
"Yes? Many men watch her." You spoke with pride.
"I see her bouncing and swaying to the music. Would you permit me to dance with her? That is, if she would like to, of course." I looked at her to see whether there was any interest on her part. She looked at you.
You inspected me more closely for a few seconds, then turned to Gina. "Would you like to dance, Gina?" Your eyes met and there was a strong unspoken message that passed between you.
"Yes. Maybe just once". Her eyes never left your face when she spoke, and I could see the relief when you smiled at her.
I offered my hand to your wife to help her up, then looked at you again. "Thank you. I would like to thank you by name, but you never mentioned it."
"Andy. You're welcome." You watched me as I watched Gina slide across the bench seat. I glimpsed her cunt very briefly as she moved her legs into a position from which she could stand.
