Terry's house was an immaculate three story affair with vaulted ceilings, adorned with expensive art, and otherwise an abode seemingly beyond her pay scale. My wife had told me, well before any of our current adventures began, that years ago Terry had dated the owner of their company. While the romance didn't work out, she left him for Bill, her current husband, the owner of my wife's company always held her in high, and times vaunted, regard. Jerry, the owner, was an older, incredibly successful realtor. Often, my wife's company parties were held on his boat, or at one of the three different apartments he rented throughout the city. I guess I could see why Terry would leave him. Jerry was in his mid fifties, attractive and still well built, but desperately losing his fight against old age and Bill was, for lack of a better term, a stud. But by leaving Jerry, she also walked away from a lot of money, a lot more than Bill had that's for sure. However, judging by her house, I guess they still did well enough.
My wife and Terry giggled as they went behind the bar and opened a new bottle of scotch and poured a pair of glasses for themselves. My wife was a little less than drunk, and I could tell her buzz was enhanced by her arousal. For my part, my previous encounter with Terry, her furious and humiliating stroking, had left me winded and tired, unable to really enjoy what I was hoping would be a night of drunken debauchery.
Bill excused himself upstairs and I found a chair and watched as my wife and Terry, flirted and laughed with each other, oblivious of my presence in the room.
"This is such a cute dress." Terry said running her finger beneath one of my wife's straps.
"Thank you," She blushed and looked away, a drunken, lustful smile blossoming across her face.
"Although," Terry moved her hand down further until it was just above my wife's top breast. "Have you ever considered getting a boob job?"
"Excuse me?" My wife went from willing mistress to insulted woman with one phrase.
"Sweetheart relax. I'm just saying that these," she cupped a hand under my wife's small breast and pushed up what little she could, "these little things? These are half the reason you have a man like that over there."
"Not all men like large breasts, Terry." Her indignation gave way to reasoning.
"Of course not dear. Look," Terry grabbed my wife's hand and placed it atop Terry's left boob. My wife tried to recoil but Terry's stong hands, the same that had nearly brought me to my knees only hours before, held her fast.
Terry's tits were beautiful round examples of a well put together lady. They weren't any larger than a B cup, but they were firm and proud, accentuating an athletic body. They were the kind of breasts well endowed woman envied, compact, comfortable and imminently more fuckable.
"See?" Terry brushed a stray hair from my wife's face, caressing the impressed and embarrassed look that resided there. "That's a woman's breast. That's one of the many factors that help you control men. Do you understand hon?"
"I--," my wife's hand squeezed and fondled and rubbed those perfectly formed tits, "I think I do Terry."
"Exactly, so as I was saying have you ever considered getting them done?"
"No, I don't think I could afford it even if I did."
Terry laughed at that. "Money, love, will be the least of your worries when I'm done training you."
"Bill makes good money doesn't he."
"Bill makes no money my dear. He lives off of what I give him, and I give him everything because he is so very good to me."
My wife looked confused. "But you can't possibly make that much more money than I do at the office and—"
Terry put a finger to her lips and sealed it with a kiss. My tired and aching penis jumped at this, the first time my wife had ever kissed another woman. And more so, she liked it. Terry smiled through their kiss and pulled her away just as she eagerly moved in for more.
"No more money talk honey, it's no fun. Tonight is about fun." Terry looked over at me and smiled, "isn't it now Tom?"
"I—uh—yea—uh—sure!" I stammered, suddenly excited that she remembered me, like when you're the last to finally get picked for sports in school.
Her glance at me was short lived as the stairs creaked and we all looked as Bill came down the steps, a robe loosely closed around his body. His well defined chest pulled it apart at the top and the close shaven bits of his body hair helped accentuate his stature.
"Ah there he is."
Terry walked over and greeted him with a kiss. She brought a leg up and went on tip toes with the other to meet his lips. He put a strong hand over her butt to help her up and the two kissed for a long minute before separating.
Terry wrapped her arms around his waste and pulled the robe more open to expose most of his chest.
"So how does he look?" She said to my wife, smiling.
"Very nice. Incredibly nice actually."
Terry walked over and took my wife by the hand, leading her to Bill and placing her hands on Bill's chest. Her little fingers played with the stuble there and smiled down at her. Terry's hand took her wrist and gently guided it around his body, tickling his nipples and rubbing his taught stomach. Terry's other hand went to his waist and started unfurling the knot in his robe. His shoulders were already free, and once she undid the knot, the whole thing fell to the floor.
Bill stood there in boxer briefs that seemed too tight for his massive thighs. My wife gasped and Terry giggled and they both looked down. Looked down his slight six pack, looked down the strong muscles that dipped past the waistband of his underwear, looked down at the round, strong package of man-meat crowding in his crotch, huddled tightly and straining against the grip of the cotton briefs.
"Wow," my wife whispered.
"Wow indeed," Terry smiled.
"Is he," she pulled back now and just admired him from afar, "is he even hard?"
"No I'm not," Bill responded, a big knowing grin on his face.
"Oh Tom," Terry looked over at me. I quickly glanced at her and away from where my eyes had been transfixed when she called my name.
"Uhh, yea?"
"Ha! That was so cute." She stepped over to me.
I was sitting down and when she stood in front of me, she looked down, and very imposing.
"Did I catch you staring Tom?" She wagged her finger at me, like she was scolding a little boy who had just been caught doing something naughty.
"No, I well, you know."
"No I don't actually. But please," she folded her arms and cocked a leg forward. Her breasts bunched up at her elbows and I looked at her tight body that couldn't be ignored even through the snug dress she was wearing, "do tell."
"I mean, there is a difference in guys you know. You ever hear of a 'shower' and a 'grower'?"
She nodded her head, acknowledging that I actually, in her opinion, may have had a point. "I HAVE heard of that actually, Tom, and I'm glad you brought it up."
"I don't understand." My wife said, I couldn't tell if she was staring at his impressive thighs or his impressive package, both I knew were turning her on.
"What your husband here is talking about is men's penises. Apparently," she glanced down at me with a wicked smile, "a subject that he knows quite a bit about."
I blushed at this and looked away. This woman had an uncanny ability to embarrass the shit out of me.
"What he means is that some men are actually a lot bigger flaccid than others. Men who aren't very big flaccid can actually 'fill up' to a nice strong size. So even though they look a little puny in the pants normally, they're pretty big once they get going."
"Is that true?" My wife asked. She did seem genuinely interested, even though Bill was now pulling her closer and rubbing her neck in small circles.
"Actually yes it is true. But." Now Terry sat down on the arm of the chair next to me and leaned over. Her tits pressed close to my face and her hand played with my chin and the rested on my stomach. "But that's a bit of a misnomer."
"Really?"
"I have found," Terry said, her hands now unbuttoning my pants, "that most men, like my loving husband Bill, that are 'showers' are actually bigger overall." She reached in and cupped the whole of my cock and balls with her hand through my pants. "And men that are growers, like your hubby over here," she squeezed and blood rushed into my penis. I breathed in and grabbed the armrests to the chair. "Growers are almost always smaller, even after they've filled up."
Bill started kissing my wife's neck and I head her moan. "God the feels great." But she was still resisting a little. "I don't know if I can do this though. Not with Tom here."
"That's fine dear." Terry said standing up and pulling me to my feet by my hand. "We're going to put Tom away for a little so you can get going. Don't you worry."
Terry led me by the hand to the sliding doors that led into the study, the room adjacent the one we were in. She pushed me in and slid the doors closed.
"I'll come and get you when we're done okay Tom?"
"I," I looked past her and saw Bill devouring my wife, and she went limp in his arms, letting his manly frame take her down to the floor.
"Don't worry Tom, I promise we'll come and get you. You just hang out in there for now, talk to my other friend and just relax okay?"
"Other friend?" I questioned as she closed the door on me.
I turned around and sitting watching TV was Jerry, the owner of my wife and Terry's company. He nodded his head at me when I came in. We had only spoken a few times before.
"Good to see you again Tom."
"This is a little—What are you doing here?"
"Probably the same thing you're doing here."
My wife let out a loud, sensual moan from the other room. Then her heavy breathing began, in rhythm, as she was apparently being pumped by the man in the adjacent room.
"This isn't, I mean," I looked at the door then back at him, "it's not how it looks."
