After our meeting at the coffee shop, I was convinced that Mrs. Hawthorne wanted a through cuckolding of her husband. It would be his birthday present, but it would be a treat for all three of us.
Apparently, her husband was turned on by my little farce at the hospital, and he had been on pins and needles ever since. His lovely wife would not allow him the satisfaction of a fuck yet. It was driving him crazy, and she wouldn't be ready until her husband was forced to watch me once again take advantage of her. He was going to have to wait his turn.
We exchanged phone and email contacts. I got her address for Saturday night. I texted her to ask what did she wanted me to do exactly. She told me that I should arrive at nine o'clock, and that I should dress just as I had been in the hospital. And I should bring flowers again, of course. Then she asked, "By the way, do you have acting experience?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I replied.
"I thought so. You gave a convincing performance for an audience of one when Bill watched you fake it in front of him. You should get an award nomination for that performance."
"Thank you," I wrote, "All awards are welcome, but I already had my hands on the best award that you could give me."
She wrote back, "After you ring our doorbell, use your improvisation skills." Then she added, "Bill will only know that I have a special plan for his birthday." She paused then added, "Everything else is up to you."
"Everything?" I pondered the possibilities.
Saturday could not come fast enough. I was in heat those next few days, pumping my cock in front of her through every evening news program.
On the drive to their home, I became nervousness about Mr. Hawthorne's reaction, but that was balanced by how I planned to entertain him.
Shortly before I arrived, I had a text from Mrs. Hawthorne saying, "We're ready."
Ten minutes later, I rang their door bell. The door opened, and Mrs. Hawthorne welcomed me into her home wearing a silky kimono sort of robe that covered her shoulders and arms and draped almost to the floor.
From behind her I heard her husband, "Dear, who was that at the door?"
She took my arm and walked me into the living room where Mr. Hawthorne was sipping a glass of wine and also in some sort of robe or dressing gown. Obviously, he was hoping for a special birthday night with his Mrs.
"Look who's here?" she said.
Mr. Hawthorne's mouth dropped open. He stared at me, then at his wife, "What the hell?"
I smiled, "I brought these flowers, and this time they're really for your wife."
Mrs. Hawthorne took them, "How nice of you. I remember the last time you visited me and brought flowers." She took the flowers and winked at her husband.
"But Donna," he said, "I don't understand. What's going on?"
"Relax, dear," she told him, "I thought you would enjoy seeing our friend again. Apparently he knows how to get you excited."
I jumped in, "My apologies for the surprise at the hospital, Mr. Hawthorne." I looked into his wife's eyes, "It was naughty of me to look at her lovely pussy and to touch it like I did."
I was pretty sure that hearing me say talk about his wife like that would rev up Mr. Hawthorne and get him focused on watching again as a stranger used his wife to entertain him.
He stuttered, "But how, I mean, what?"
Mrs. Hawthorne answered, "He sent me flowers at work the next day. Wasn't that sweet and thoughtful? We had a few chats, and he convinced me that he wasn't finished with my exam." She looked at me and asked, "Were you?"
I unbuttoned my suit coat. "That's right, I was pleased that your husband watched while we both examined your pussy." I halted and looked directly at Mr. Hawthorne, "It's always more effective if the husband is there to watch. It makes his wife feel more confident."
Mr. Hawthorne was red faced and like he would blow a gasket. He was still sputtering and trying to speak when I took charge.
I told him, "I reminded your wife that she still needed a breast exam."
Her husband was starting to gasp for breath as Mrs. Hawthorne stepped over to him and guided him to a comfortable easy chair. As he sat, his robe fell open to show us he was only wearing briefs underneath.
Donna Hawthorne smiled, "Oh good, dear, why don't you watch while we get the exam over with. Then you can have the birthday present. But first, I really should let our friend complete my exam."
Mr. Hawthorne leveled his gaze at us. I could only imagine what he was thinking, but I was pretty sure his cock was straining.
Mrs. Hawthorne stood just feet from her husband while I, like a gentleman, removed her robe. Underneath she wore her best lingerie. Her bra and panties were matching beige with lace, and her high heels extended her long legs and pushed her hips slightly forward.
Pretending to be the professional that I was not, I removed my jacket then faced her toward her husband. From behind, I placed my hands on her shoulders and ran them down her arms, then said, "Arms spread out the side, please."
She raised her arms and my hands found her waist and traveled upward toward the underside of her bra. From underneath, I lifted the weight of her breasts slightly. Over her shoulder I could see her husband staring.
My hands felt her smooth skin up and down her torso, "I don't detect any problems here," I said. Then I stooped down and put both hands around her lower leg and felt the curve of her calf, then her upper thigh, carefully stopping short of her panties. I felt up and down both legs, taking my time to let her enjoy the sensation of my touches and letting Mr. Hawthorne wonder where this was going to end.
"All seems in good order," I said out loud. "Are you comfortable keeping them on for the exam?"
Mrs. Hawthorne said, "Should I?"
I reached down and felt the swell of her calf and said, "They do add to your shapeliness." Still from behind her, I put my hands on her hips, "Mr. Hawthorne, sir, do you notice how her heels make her pubic area thrust forward a bit?" As I asked, I pointed to her pussy.
His eyes were glued to her panties.
My hands returned to her shoulders. From behind I guided them down and touched the top of her bra. My fingers traced the shape of her cups, floating over the lace edges, around to the side and underneath, outlining the entire volume of her large breasts.
My tickling touches made her quiver slightly. As he watched me, Mr. Hawthorne seemed to be in a trance.
"Do you feel any pain?" I asked her.
"No, sir, not a bit," she answered.