Luckily for us, Annabelle and I go for the same type of guy. We like thin, slightly built men; Annabelle has a thing for blondes that I don't share.
Annabelle is a blonde herself (from a bottle; I tease her when dark roots show) with a heart-shaped face and very large hazel eyes set wide apart which tend to give her a startled look. She's got a nice, big bosom and a small frame. The hours she spends in the gym show in defined biceps and washboard abs.
When Harold came to take our order, I didn't even have to see my wife's expression to know what it was. Harold is about 5'11", very slender, with straight, longish, corn-yellow hair, a single earring, green eyes, a bright smile, and a dimpled chin.
As my eyes met hers, I saw the look I expected.
****
Annabelle had prepared an elaborate rice and duck dish, heavily orange flavored. (I don't touch anything in the kitchen. My chores--which I assigned to myself--are dusting and vacuuming and putting things up because I'm something of a Felix.)
"I got a lady I date, but it's nothing," Harold said, with a slightly embarrassed smile; his tongue moved across the front of his closed mouth during a pause. "I was living with a guy but we couldn't get along. It's weird but I saw Joe the other day and I might date him again but I wouldn't want to live with him. We always had kind of a problem because he's gay, he didn't really understand bis."
"It's hard to find someone you really click with," I said. "Even harder to make it last."
"How long have you and Annabelle been married?" he asked, pushing a shock of blonde hair back from his face. His thick eyebrows were quite dark so I wondered if he dyed his hair.
"It'll be six years in May," I told him.
Annabelle came in with Harold's plate and drink. "We've been together almost nine years," she informed him.
"Wow. That's a long time," he said.
She turned back to the kitchen and I followed Harold's eyes following my wife's slim but curvaceous figure in a tight, thigh-length red dress. She came back with my plate and her own.
"Yes, that's right," I said. "In a way, you could call Annabelle an old-fashioned girl."
"Woman, Jerry," she corrected lightly, raising her thin, brown eyebrows.
"Woman," I said, taking a sip of champagne. "She insisted on a big church wedding. I just wanted a justice of the peace in Vegas."
"I'm a deist," Annabelle explained, "You know, I don't believe in any particular religion though I believe there had to be Someone who started this whole thing. But a church wedding with the white gown and the whole trip is something I'd fantasized about since I was a little girl."
"My wife likes to live out her fantasies," I added.
"Yes, I do," she said, flinging her golden mane back and looking straight at Harold. "When you can, why not?"
"Yeah," Harold agreed. A gleam of lust showed clearly in his green eyes. He ran his fingers slowly down his jawline in a thoughtful, pensive gesture. After a pause, he reached for my wife's hand. Both their hands were long with slender fingers; his were only a bit thicker than Annabelle's; he sported two rings on his right hand, Annabelle only one; and his longish fingernails were polished an oily dark blue while Annabelle's short ones looked like they had not been polished (they were, but with a clear liquid that only made the fingernails shine a bit).
I watched as their hands squeezed and rubbed together and turned each other over. Annabelle got up from her chair, long blond hair streaming, and moved toward Harold, kissing him on the cheek, a friendly peck, then on the mouth--a real lover's kiss. I could see Harold's hard-on bulging through the crotch of his black slacks. Annabelle gestured toward our bedroom and the three of us went there.
I sat on the green, velvet covered chair across from Annabelle and Harold, who were on the bed smooching and rolling around and, soon enough, partially clad. "Ahhh," Annabelle moaned as Harold took a slow pull on a breast. Harold giggled, then took her nipple in his mouth. Annabelle started swinging her pelvis around, the way she always does when she's just starting to get turned on.
Taking my eight circumcised inches out of my fly, I began massaging it while my wife's hand slid to Harold's slim haunches and he bounced on her prone figure--not putting his rigid, thick, seven inch long, uncut dick inside her but on the outside of her dark pubic triangle--kissing her along the neck, pulling and squeezing on her full breasts. I saw that her nipples were engorged. Her hand slid up his back, then down again to his hips.
I went over to them and Harold turned kissed me on the mouth. I put my hand in back of his head and held him close, enjoying the sensation of a man's stubbled skin against my own. My lips were wonderfully wet as we pulled apart. So were his.
"Ladies first," I said. Harold buried his head between my wife's spread thighs. His hands were on her thighs and she looked at me, her hazel eyes alight with the minuscule echoes of gold that showed in her irises when she was excited. I leaned over her, kissing her; she hugged me, hard, her nails digging in my flesh and hurting me in a nice way. I fondled her breasts, which were moist from Harold's saliva and diamond hard at the nipples. I always love feeling the heft of Annabelle's rich, feminine fruits.
"Yeah," she whispered, and giggled. "Ahhhh . . ." she moaned and bit softly into my shoulder; I slid my tongue along her damp, satiny neck.
My wife and our new friend were crosswise on the bed, she straddling him. I produced a condom. I knew from previous discussion that Harold loved getting his dick sucked and I put the rubber over his dark pink foreskin with my mouth just like a whore. While he ate my wife's pussy, I went slowly up and down on his thick cockmeat. My own dick throbbed. Up and down, up and down to his golden-furred balls I went, slurping sometimes as I took it deep down (like Annabelle, I practice on bananas to stifle the gag impulse).
"Oh!" Annabelle squealed gleefully. "Oh, oh!"
I glanced up, my mouth still on Harold's cockhead, and saw a happy Annabelle with her head back, a lewd sweet smile on her profile, playing with her tits while sitting on Harold's face and crooning.
I kept going up and down, up and down, sucking sucking sucking sucking sucking. I could feel a beat on Harold's staff, it seemed to speed up and then suddenly he gushed into my sucking mouth.
I waited until all his jizz had spurted out. Then I took my mouth off his still-hard shaft, pulled the filled rubber off with my hand, and tossed it into the trash can.
"Harrrrr--old," I moaned as I rubbed my mushroom-headed dick on his hard-peced and hairless chest. I held my breath and pulled back on my internal muscles--I didn't want to cum just yet. I looked at the back of my wife, that mass of golden hair, the delicate crack of her slim but womanly ass. I thought about Harold's tongue working on her juicy pink lips and taut clit and imagined how tingly sweet she must feel.
Then I let go with a loud "Awwwww!" and the cum shot everywhere: I even got drops on Harold's Adam's apple and his cute, dimpled chin and on Annabelle's butt. "Oh!" Annabelle said, "Oh-ahhhhh! Jerry, touch me! Ohhhhhhhh!" I grabbed hold of her hips, cupping the soft round cheeks, as she came.
