Tuesday Evening
It was the second Monday of the week. It was one of those days where I not only had to deal with irate clients on the phone, but also coworkers who seemed to be competing for the "Asshole of the Month" award. And of course, there was that late-afternoon-mandatory meeting that kept me from getting home in time to fix dinner.
When I entered the house, I could smell dinner cooking. Thank goodness I had married someone who was able take over dinner-duties.
"Sorry I'm late," I called out as dropping my laptop case onto the console table. As I crossed the living room towards the kitchen, Jason appeared at the doorway with a serving spoon in hand.
"Carole, dinner will ready in a half-hour or so," he said. "Why don't you have a glass of wine and relax for a bit?"
It was tempting, but right now I wanted more to wash the day from my body, and get out of these clothes into something more comfortable. "I hope you don't mind, but first I'm going to go grab a shower. I'll see you in a bit."
Jason looked at me, and with a grin said, "I will see you very soon."
I needed a release. When I finally got into the master bathroom, I turned on the water and stripped, throwing all my clothes into a pile. When I stepped into the shower, I let the water cascade over my body; muscles slowly relaxing from the warmth. My hand slid down my body, towards the folds between my legs. I started to move my fingers against my lips, touching them there. I sighed a small whine.
I moaned to myself as I teased the opening, moaning out loud and in pleasure as I started to play with myself there. A finger against the entrance, and in a moment, I pushed in. I gently fingered myself, sighing. I closed my eyes, feeling the sensation of the digit inside. I wanted more. I pressed a second digit inside, and then a third.
By now I am moaning out loud, competing with the noise of the water splashing the walls of the shower. I didn't hear the shower door open, but I did feel the light sensation of cooler air circulating. Then I felt the naked body against my backside.
"Jason," I breathed, still pressing my fingers inside.
Jason's hand was now between my thighs, gently pushing my fingers to the side and replacing them with his own larger fingers. "No, Carole. It's not Jason," he said. "It's me, Raoul, your very personal masseuse."
Jason loved pretending to be someone else whenever we made love. It heightened the foreplay sensations for us both. Sometimes he would be the mailman (with a 'special delivery'), the landlord ("How will I ever make the rent payment?"), or a car salesman ("Let me show you the back seat.") Once he was the overbearing schoolmaster, and there was only one way for me to bring up my grades with an extra-credit assignment.
Now he's Raoul, the masseuse. I begin to formulate what a "Raoul" would look like. In my mind, he was a tall, dark Frenchman, honey-color eyes and pearly white teeth. He has a broad chest, strong limbs, and one very large.... "Oh, Raoul! Use your magic touch on me."
Jason pushed in two fingers, rubbing my clit and teasing me. When I moaned, he took this as a signal for him to pleasure my body. He pressed me gently against the wall, turned my head to meet his face and began a long, deep and sloppy kiss. His fingers were still working their magic on my lady parts; teasing, pressing, and probing. Finally, I could take no more teasing.
"Babe. Please. fuck me," I practically ordered. I am not the demanding type, but I was riding a wave of excitement.
Jason didn't need to be told twice. He spread me apart, pushing one of my legs up and then plunging his manhood into me. It was a familiar fullness, one that I truly enjoyed.
He started to pound my pussy, thrusting slowly. I grabbed the towel rod for support when he pushed the full length of his rod into me. He held me as he moved in and out, faster and harder. I shivered, reacting to the waves of sensations of him taking me like this, the thick cock causing me to cry out in pleasure.
I remembered to moan Raoul's name, and Jason reacted by thrusting even harder; penetrating as deep as possible. I imagined Raoul's tanned body, his touch, and the feeling of his breath against my neck.
My moans and Jason's grunts combined as he hit that spot again, I tensed, feeling my back arch and my hips thrust. I cried out in exhilaration, and then came hard. I was losing control. Jason pressed into me again, and groaned as he released deep into my pussy. We froze into this position for a moment.
He whispered, "I hope that was to the lady's satisfaction." I knew to sigh out a "thankyou" to the masseuse.
Jason exited the shower, and then said, "Your husband is a lucky man. And such a generous man to share his slut-wife with me."
Wednesday Morning
It was still dark when I woke. I turned to see the alarm clock on Jason's side of the bed. 4:30. My mind wandered to the evening before. Jason had called me a "slut-wife." Granted, he was pretending to be 'Raoul'; but is that what he thinks of me? Or was he just continuing to look at me as Raoul would? Or, is "slut wife" what Jason wants me to be?
Facing my sleeping husband, I felt the heat of his body rising up from under the cover between us. I skootched closer. My hand touched his boxer shorts, and I could discern the shape of his cock behind the thin cotton material. Even limp, I could sense the power behind this fine specimen of manhood.
My desire to have sex with Jason grew as my hand slid into the boxers and began to lightly stroke his cock, soft and sleeping like its owner. But it seemed to slowly gain awareness of my attention, swelling and getting longer, harder, thicker. Soon, I could wrap my fingers around it and slide them up and down.
When I finally released his shaft, it pointed straight out, through the fly of his boxers. I bent my knees and scooted my body low under the covers, beside his hips. I wrapped both my hands around his cock, overlapping them a bit to leave the head exposed.
I slid my hands up and down the length of his shaft, and marveled at its beauty of design, and its ability to fulfill my sexual satisfaction. I lowered my lips to the tip of the cock.
Jason moaned softly, shifted his hips, and rolled to his back, pulling his cock away from my mouth. I sensed he was waking up.
I followed the movement of his body by rolling over it, crouching on my knees with one knee on either side of his shins. Supporting my body weight with my elbows on either side of his hips, I held his cock erect and drew my mouth close.
I licked my lips and then licked the head of his cock. It twitched at the touch. I ran my tongue all over the sensitive head while my fingers began fondling his balls.
I licked his cock from tip to base.
Jason was fully awake now. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the hems of his boxers. With one deft motion, he raised his hips and lowered his boxers. I regained my position, kneeling before his marvelous red, glistening cock.
I took hold of his cock and started stroking it, listening to him sigh and moan in delight. The bed covers had slipped down, so that now I could raise my eyes and look into his. I licked the head of his cock clean of pre-cum and then took it into my mouth.
His cock was still rock hard. I wanted him to fuck my mouth and cum down my throat. I could feel his hands gathering my hair into a ponytail, holding it out of my face. I could also feel his scrotum tightening, and his cock swelling to its maximum. He was close to achieving an orgasm. I was quite happy to suck away.
I kept my lips clenched tightly around the shaft as I raised and lowered my head; letting it slide in and out of my mouth. I listened to his moans of satisfaction, when suddenly he tensed hard. I felt his cum shoot out into my mouth. I continued sucking as I swallowed every drop, and then kept sucking until he was dry.
Jason moved his hands under my arms, and guided me to lay on his body with my face near his. We kissed, long and passionately. He looked into my eyes, and told me that this was truly the way for a man to start his day.
"I am so proud of my little slut-wife," he cooed. "I could watch you suck cock all day long."
I told Jason that it gives me great satisfaction to see him happy; and that I always love doing whatever it takes to satisfy him.
And then, he said that he wished that he could watch me suck another man's cock. Also, that it would pleasure him to watch me service cocks large and small.
An hour or so later, the alarm rang. It was time for me to rise, shower and find something to wear to work. I slipped a robe around my shoulders, and then headed to the closet.
Jason took advantage of my leaving the bed to sit up and turn the tv to a sports-news channel. He propped himself up with pillows against the headboard, and pulled the covers up to his waist. Even with his disheveled bed-hair, my bare-chested husband was still strikingly handsome.
"What do you think of him?" Jason asked, as I was studying the outfits in my closet. I glanced over at the TV, and saw a player on a post-game press conference.
"What do I, what?" I asked.
"That guy there," he motioned with a nod. "How big do you think his cock is?"
The player was attractive enough. And a man that tall just HAS to have a massive package. I responded to Jason, "I I would imagine he has a really big member."
"Does that excite you? Would you like to see him naked, in all his glory? Would you suck that big cock for me?"
I blinked, processing this line of questioning. "Would you want me to? Does the idea of watching me suck his cock turn you on?" Looking over at Jason, who now had a hand slipped under the covers, I had my answer. He was quite turned as he was obviously stroking himself.
"Yes," I said, knowing the answers Jason wanted to hear. "I'd like to suck his cock. I'd love to feel his hot cum pouring into my mouth!"
I dropped what I was doing, and moved to the bed. I pulled the covers off of Jason's groin, and moved his hand so that I could hold his cock. "Somebody's excited," I crooned softly. A whispered "Yes!" was his response.
