Hall Pass 1

My wife Julie has this group of girlfriends. Most of them go way back, and have been friends since high school. One of the women has been my wife's best friend since the first grade. This group of women have stayed together through thick and thin. It seems like they text each other constantly, and then meet in person seemingly to yap about everything they said in their texts while they were apart.

Like a lot of women, my wife and her friends just love to talk, and when they all get together it can get pretty noisy. I have no idea how they can have so much to talk about when they've been texting each other all day, but when they really get going it sounds like a coop full of hens happily clucking and cackling away... all with their volume knobs cranked way past 10.

Noisy or not, the girls really seem to enjoy themselves when they get together for one of their hen clucks... and when wine is involved, they get even louder. The wine also tends to induce subjects into their conversations that seem to be designed to drive their husbands away. I mean how many times do they have to tell each other all the vivid details of their periods, pregnancies, and yeast infections anyway?

Without a doubt, there's no place for a guy like me when one of the wives' get-togethers turns girly, and I'm not the only one that feels this way. We all talked it over, well the husbands did anyway, and we decided everyone would be happier if our better halves just went somewhere and had their noisy little hen clucks without us.

From the moment we told our wives we didn't want to be part of their clucks anymore the girls were all for it. To them, that gave them license to completely take over one of our houses once a week. Whenever they gathered at my house I would go over to one of the other guy's places and we would watch a game or something.

After a fair bit of complaining by a couple of the husbands, the girls decided to give us all a break now and then, and take their party out to a bar, which usually meant Applebee's. Yeah, they would actually go to Applebee's... they sure must have loved their hen clucks.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining here. I don't mind that Julie goes out once in a while. Being married doesn't make her some sort of prisoner, and it's not like she's out getting into trouble. Besides, I trust my wife with the same level of trust she has always given me. Most people think this is just a saying, but the trust between us is truly the foundation of our relationship.

In fact, Julie's trust in me is so strong that when the last of our little band of friends finally got married, it was Julie that stepped in and practically ordered the guys go to a strip club as part of the bachelor party festivities. Then she turned around and convinced the girls that all of their men were every bit as trust worthy as I am, and that none of us could possible get into any real trouble at strip club.

Of course that was only half of the story. I suspected that the girls had secretly planned to have male strippers at their bachelorette party. I asked Julie about it when got home later that night, and she didn't even try to deny it. I would have known if she tried to hide it anyway. Julie is horrible at keeping secrets, and the best part is she has no idea why.

You see, Julie has this calm ease about her whenever she talks, unless of course she is hiding something. Whenever Julie is saying something that is even the slightest bit deceitful, even if it is a harmless tiny little white lie, she fidgets and just can't stop touching her ears. In fact, it was her nervous ear touching while she was telling the guys to go to a strip club that originally tipped me off to the girl's plans.

We both laughed out loud about the strippers once it was out on the table. She thought it was hilarious that the guys actually had to be pushed into going out to look at naked women, and I thought it was so typical that the girls didn't volunteer their plans while Julie was talking the guys into going to a strip club. Of course both of us could easily laugh at something like this. With a trust like ours we knew that having strippers around this group would be much more embarrassing than erotic.

So the bachelor party came around and the groom-to-be got thoroughly humiliated by a couple of strippers up on stage. We tried to get photos but the strip club staff took our phones away. I did tell my wife all about what the strippers did, and how they made the poor bachelor wear lipstick half the night.

It seems that the strippers at the bachelorette party were a big hit with the girls as well. After that night my wife and her friends couldn't stop talking about how much fun it was... And it wasn't long after that bachelorette party that the girls started doing what they called a Cirque Risqué adventure on their hen cluck night.

They planned one of these Cirque Risqué nights every six months or so. This was usually something like dressing up to go to a dance club, or on occasion reliving part of the bachelorette party and going to see a male review. Again, they were always on the up and up about what they were doing, and trust was never an issue.

Most guys would have a fit if their wives went out like this, but I didn't mind one bit. Even with a name like Cirque Risqué, deep down I knew that Julie would never do anything that would hurt me. The worst thing Julie might do is get a little touchy stuffing a couple of dollars into some dancer's G-String.

Yeah, Julie at a strip show. That had to be a sight. I could easily imagine Julie suggestively stuffing a couple of dollars into a stripper's shorts, then turning to all of her friends grinning from ear to ear about how daring she was being, all the while shooing the dancer on to the next patron.

In the long run, I actually more than just tolerate my wife's little adventures. I especially like it when the girls go out on one of their so called Cirque Risqué outings. Whenever my wife comes home from one of these nights she is always all worked up, extra wet, and really horny. The effect of her evening out is even better if she comes home a little bit tipsy.

Julie doesn't drink often, but when she does, her drink of choice is sweet white wine. It doesn't take more than a glass or two for her guard to come down a little. I regularly set aside evenings with wine and cheese in hopes we will have some wild uninhibited sex. Getting some drinks in her doesn't always amp up our sex, but on the nights it doesn't, the conversations we have are interestingly sensual to say the least.

You can probably imagine I don't care for it much when the girls go out and my wife is assigned to be the designated driver. Without that little bit of wine in her she doesn't seem to come home nearly as horny. On these nights having sex with Julie is pretty much the same as always.

The difference between sober Julie and tipsy Julie is like night and day. Sober Julie will only drop little hints about wanting sex, and she always expects me to be the instigator. Then she wants the same old sober Julie sex.

Sober Julie sex is where I pursue her until she gives in, then I get on top and pin her arms over her head while I fuck her. I hate to publicly admit this, but most of the time Julie can be a bit of what I've heard referred to as a dead fish in bed. Tipsy Julie tends to be much more aggressive and adventurous in bed.

So it seems that the combination of wine and being out with the girls on a risqué night is what really opens some sort of sexual faucet in my wife. Julie has never had a problem getting wet, even with just a tiny bit of stimulation, but the outings with her girlfriends seem to really get her going. I don't know what the girls are doing when they go out, but I suspect they talk about sex a lot. Whatever it is, I really like the transformation in the bedroom that these outings create in Julie.

After one of her Cirque Risqué nights, it's not uncommon for her to walk in the door, shove me back onto the sofa, and climb into my lap for a seriously good fuck. And let me tell you, on these nights she doesn't require any stimulation down there. She comes home soaking wet and completely ready, wanting some action the moment she walks through the door.

I always know when she's about to go into one of her hyper wet sexual attack modes too. It's kind of like her touching her ear when she lies. Like her ear touching I'm sure she has no idea she is doing this either, but when she goes into sexual attack mode she makes this sexy little giggle.

This sexy little giggle seems to say that Julie thinks she is about to do something that is beyond the edge of my sexual comfort zone. Little does she know my comfort zone goes far beyond anything she has ever dreamed of doing.

So because of this Jekyll and Hyde transformation, I absolutely love it when she comes home from one of her outings acting all sweet and nasty. Her taking the sexual initiative now and then makes me feel wanted. It makes me feel loved. It makes me feel as if she just can't get enough of me. In fact, I really wish she would go out on those so called risqué adventures with her friends a little more often.

****

That brings me to last Saturday night, which turned out to be one of those perfect storm sort of nights. Between Julie's mother getting sick and my work schedule, Julie and I hadn't had sex for couple of weeks. Finally Saturday came and the kids were going to be at a sleepover. I had a bottle of Julie's favorite wine in to chill, and the cheese was sliced and ready. At the very least, my plan should have gotten me an erotic conversation and a nice little session of dead fish sex... but Julie had other plans.

That very same Saturday the girls had planned to go out on one of their Cirque Risqué adventures, and Julie chose that over me. I pretended to be upset, but in reality I wasn't. I knew it wasn't Julie's turn to drive this time, and I was pretty sure she would come home all tipsy and horny. Having her climb into my lap and fuck me like a mad woman sounded way better than the dead fish sex I had been imagining all day.

As I zipped up her dress I asked her where they had decided to go. She said they were going to try out this new place in town for drinks and maybe a little dancing. Ugh, dancing! At that point I was grateful that she wasn't trying to drag me along.

I hate dancing. I feel like such an uncoordinated clod when I try to dance, and I just can't stand the crap they play as dance music these days. I figured this would be a good night for her to go out, dance with her girlfriends, and get all that wiggling to a beat out of her system.

Besides hating the music, my Alma Mater was playing their arch rivals, and I'd much rather spend an evening watching a game than trying to convince one of my two left feet to play the role of righty all night.

My team's game went into double overtime and it was pretty late when it was finally over. I was surprised that my wife still wasn't home. I waited up for a bit, wanting to be the first thing she saw when she walked in the door.

Finally it got to be past midnight so I gave up and went to bed. I figured she must be having a great time, and I was pretty sure she was getting herself extra worked up. I also figured I could use some rest before she got home and pounced on me.

As I lay there wondering where she was and what she was doing. I had to resist every urge to take matters into my own hand. I really wanted to save myself for my wife. After two full weeks of buildup, my wife was in for the cum blast of the century. I ended up falling asleep with a hard on, and immediately started dreaming of my wife's sexy wet pussy.

The next thing I knew I was awakened by the hallway light coming on. I cleared my eyes just in time to see my wife standing in the bedroom doorway with one arm stretched up leaning against the door jam. The light streaming from the hall outlined her sexy curves in perfect silhouette. She was holding her heels on the end of her finger, and her long sexy legs were open just enough that the light streaming in between them revealed that the skirt of her little black dress had been hiked up onto her hips.

A quick glance at the clock on my nightstand told me it was well after 2:00, and I was sure she was about to explain why she had been out so late. But she didn't say a word as she sauntered towards the bed, dropping her heals in the chair as she passed it by. Then she crawled onto the bed putting her knees on either side of my hips, and bent forward taking my face in her hands.

As she kissed me her long silky hair cascaded down around our heads enclosing our faces, and the scent of wine filled my nostrils. There was no doubt she had been drinking, and the passion of her kisses told me she was as wet and ready as ever. I knew I was in for the fuck of my life. I could hardly wait for my wife to stop kissing me and push her hot wet pussy down over my hard aching cock.

Finally her kisses stopped, and I heard that giggle she does when she is about to do something she thinks is a little bit naughty. Hearing that, I fished around with my cock trying to find the entrance of her warm tight wetness.

My wife sat up and put her hands in the middle of my chest, no doubt steadying herself from the alcohol induced wobble that was playing tricks on her head. I could feel the steamy warmth of her hot little love box radiating onto my stomach as the head of my cock gently nestled into the crack of her ass. All she had to do was scoot down a little and I would easily slip inside her.

Then she giggled that giggle again, looked at me with a bit of mischief, and walked her knees up my sides. Finally she pushed my arms out onto the bed and pinned them under her legs, waving and wobbling as her crotch made its way towards my head.

The steamy smell of her sex washed over my face as she inched ever closer. I wondered for a moment where her panties had gone. Then I realized she must have jettisoned them somewhere in the hallway, probably dropping them in the same place where she took off her heels.

She stayed there for a moment, hesitantly waiving her loins over my face. Then she quietly settled down, gently fishing around until her wetness found my mouth.

I parted her thick curly hair with my tongue pushing it into her slit, and immediately found out just how incredibly wet she was. At that moment she had to be the wettest woman in the city.

As I gently licked and sucked her, the wetness from her horny swollen pussy coated my tongue. She has gotten pretty wet before, but this was one for the record books. Finally my tongue was experiencing the incredible Cirque Risqué induced slippery wetness that was usually reserved for my cock. It was an incredible creamy treat and I loved it.

It wasn't long before my half drunken wife was sitting on my face sliding her pussy from my nose to my chin, making circles on my mouth, gliding along on the juices of her excitement as I lapped at her soaking wet crotch with my tongue.

I could hear her panting and grunting with extreme pleasure as I licked and sucked her pussy. At that point I realized that making me eat her pussy was probably something she had been dreaming of doing for quite some time, but had always been too sober and too conservative to actually give this little act a try.

Eventually she found a rhythm, and I matched the cadence of her sliding thrusts with my tongue. Seconds later I heard her take in a huge breath. Then her entire body flexed and shook, pushing her pussy down hard onto my face, spreading her creamy wet cunt wide over my mouth and chin while I held my breath and pushed my tongue as deep inside her as I could.

They say that your tongue is one of the most sensitive parts of your body, and now I fully believe that. I could feel every flex, quiver and pulse, as she grunted and writhed, coming all over my mouth. Every little convulsive flex of her pussy pumped more of her warm creamy flow onto my tongue, as waves of orgasm caused her body to spasm and her wet cunt slid all over my mouth and nose.

Finally her orgasm ended and she fell limp, sliding her pussy down off my chin leaving a trail of her juices along the way. Once again I was allowed to breathe, and just as I started to fill my lungs, her thick curly pubic hair brushed across my nose filling my nostrils with the strong scent of sex. Nuzzling her, I leaned up to kiss her bush and she pushed that moist mound of hair into my face.

I continued to nuzzle her bush for quite some time as she sat there motionless on her knees and elbows. It was going to take a bit of time for her to recover from the kind of orgasm she just had, and I wasn't about to rush her. I just kept gently kissing her hairy bush, signaling to her that I fully approved of what she had just done to me.

Then little by little, life managed to renter my wife's limbs and she started moving again. She released my arms from under her legs and slowly slid down my body, kissing my neck and shoulders along the way. Finally, I thought, she is going to plant that soaking wet pussy of hers on my cock and make me come, but that wasn't her plan. Her warm wet pussy squirmed right past my cock, and she didn't stop kissing my body until her lips found my cock. Then in a split second she had me deep in her mouth.

Julie's mouth sliding up and down on me felt amazing. She didn't suck my cock very often. Even then she was always very tentative about it. Using her mouth on me was strictly foreplay. The thought of getting even one drop of cum in her mouth pretty much grossed her out. She has always been afraid I'd have what she called 'an accident' if she stayed on me too long. So this night I seemed to be getting a rare treat indeed.

Before I knew it, my wife had cupped my balls with one hand and had her other hand wrapped around my shaft pulling my foreskin up and down as my cock danced and twitched in her mouth. All that wonderful stimulation took me to one place in a big hurry. I soon found myself involuntarily holding my breath with every sucking caress of her tongue, and letting out breathy moans with every exhale.

Moments later it was all I could do to squeak out the warning that I was about to come, and as soon as I uttered those words I felt the grip of her mouth tighten on my cock and she started going faster. I tried to usher a second warning, but it was too late. A wave of pleasure coursed through my body and I came in one huge pulsating gush, right in my wife's mouth.

I fully expected her to pull off at the first little spurt, but instead when my cum started to flow she sucked me even harder, taking all two weeks of my pent-up love into her warm wet mouth. Then when I was finally finished, she jumped up and ran to the bathroom where I heard her spit into the sink several times.

A few minutes later Julie walked out of the bathroom and peeled off her dress and bra. She fished a fresh pair of panties from a drawer and put on her favorite night shirt. Then she crawled onto her side of the bed, and curled up into her favorite sleeping position. Then she let out a faint sigh of satisfaction, told me she loved me, and drifted off to sleep.

In just a few minutes she was sound asleep, but I was wide awake. All I could do was lay there disbelieving what had just happened, did indeed actually happen. After all these years. After I had long given up all hope and stopped trying to talk her into it. My wife had just sucked me off, and it was incredible. I was numb and tingling all over, and that sensation of floating in a warm pool of bubbles didn't seem like it was going away any time soon.

Then a faint echo of a memory passed through my post orgasm bliss as I recalled something from years ago. When we were first married, my wife's friend Karen started joking about how once you go black you never go back. For a few short weeks this woman acted like she had gone completely wild with numerous black lovers before she finally met the man she would eventually marry. In reality this woman had only ever had one black boyfriend. That was back in high school, lasting all of three weeks... and they never actually had sex.