Movie Night 13

"If you invite him over, I'm gonna end up sucking his cock."

I loved it when she was like this: smirking a little, pouty little mouth drawn up tight so I couldn't really figure if she was merely playing or somewhat serious. Her work shirt was unbuttoned all the way down and I could see her bra pushing up cleavage. I loved that look.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I asked her. It was as close as I could get to bantering with her at times like these, since my brain tended to lock up and my lips became somewhat numb.

Awesome she could still get to me like this after eight years of marriage, eh?

She just nodded coyly ... and took a few steps closer to me ... close enough to reach out with her right hand and press it firmly against the front of my slacks. I stiffened, in more ways than one.

"Oooh," she cooed in my ear, "I think YOU might like that, too."

It wasn't unusual, so much, for her to talk like this. Not often enough, perhaps, but she was known when the mood struck her to go on and on about men and women she'd like to fuck, supplying details as we pulled off our clothes and collapsed onto bed. Sometimes, when I was really lucky, she'd continue as I went down on her, my nose filled with her scent as she painted the scene, blow by blow, lick by lick.

Two things were different about this instance, however, although at the time my mind was much too cluttered with lust to mark the distinction as we made out like schoolkids. First, she was usually at least somewhat drunk (or high) when she got like this. Secondly, she'd never spoken this way about anybody I knew. Certainly not a kid who worked for me.

A kid who was supposed to be over in about forty-five minutes.

She pulled me up short as I tried to slip a hand up the front of her blouse.

It was a wordless way couples have after a long time together. I understood instantly sex wasn't going to happen right then and while it pained me, literally, I didn't even make an argument more than an admittedly wussy-sounding whimper.

She just grinned, though, and pulled away.

Normally, that would've been the end of the encounter, us both understanding that with our dinner guest set to arrive within the hour, there wasn't time for a really good fuck session, and the best we could hope to do was calm down and wait until he went home.

Calm and cool, that's what the situation called for.

I was idly starting to wonder if I'd be able to get her back into the mood after he'd gone when she surprised me, yet again.

"I wonder ... you guys work out at the gym together, don't you?"

It took a moment for me to process what she'd asked me. "Huh? Well, yeah, sometimes."

"So, you've showered together, right?"

I grinned again, shaking my head. "I guess, yeah. Sometimes."

She crossed her arms and studied me. "So you've seen it, right?"

"It, huh?"

She came closer again, jabbed my chest with the sharp nail on her index finger. "Don't play coy with me, mister. You've seen ... IT!"

I wrapped my arms around her, she giggled. "Why, yes, lady ... I must admit I have."

"Peeker!" She teased.

"You're crazy," I told her, releasing her once again.

"So?" she continued. "When you were checking him out ... how was it? Big, I bet."

I narrowed my eyes. She met my gaze firmly. God, I loved her. "Massive," I said, smiling a little. "Even flaccid, it was a monster."

At this she laughed. "Perv ... checking out other guys in the shower!" And she turned her back.

I came up behind, nuzzling her and cupping her right breast with a reach around. She shook me off. "We don't have time. Besides, I'm saving myself for your friend ..." and she slinked off, placing one ankle over the other as she walked, giving her ass a distinctive wiggle.

"You're killing me, you do realize that, right?"

"Read it and weep, big boy ..."

He arrived and dinner was uneventful, for us. It wasn't his first trip over for grub, and it wasn't the first time my wife flirted shamelessly with him ... and he, in truth, flirted back.

I'd never minded. He was a long way from his hometown, didn't have a lot of friends here and he sure respected my wife's cooking ... and undoubtedly her ass, too. But, he was respectful – given the situation – about it so I didn't give him any shit about it.

If we're being honest here, I sorta enjoyed it when she got the attention. Once he'd even asked me about her, remarking how good looking she was. I gave him a slight wink and dropped a few hints about her wilder years. Why would I do something like that if I didn't enjoy seeing him squirm at the thought of some of her escapades?

"Dessert?" She asked him at length.

He just smiled and shoveled a little more mashed potato into his mouth.

My wife grinned at me, her eyes twinkling with something I couldn't put my finger on.

"Don't get up you two, I'll get it," I said, feigning irritation.

I was in the kitchen for about a minute, spooning the ice cream into bowls, when she slipped into the room.

I grinned at her. She grinned at me.

She filled her glass with wine and came over closer. She kissed me. A nice kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that promises more to come.

Then, sweetly yet firmly, she whispered to me, "If you ask him to stay to watch a movie, and he does ... I'm sucking his dick. It's your choice."

And she turned, wordlessly, flipped me one last smile, and went back out into the dining room with the dessert plates.

I swallowed hard and then felt something bang off my shoe.

I'd dropped the ice cream scoop.

To this day, I can't tell you what movie I put on. I'd rented several the day before, and I just grabbed a box as he opened a beer and my wife had some more wine, sitting somewhat close to each other on the couch.

At first, he'd resisted staying, but she could be quite the persuader. It really only took one mock pout.

Lightweight.

My head felt like it was packed in cotton. Already there was a whiff of sexual tension in the room ... or perhaps that was just my own active imagination.

Was she really going to go through with this?

She hadn't even made eye contact with me since he'd agreed to watch the movie with us, and the flirting had clearly been cranked up a notch.

I sat down at the far end of the sofa as the movie began.

"Dim the lights, would you sweetie?" She asked me, her tone entirely conversational.

I did as she asked. Then I got up and walked to the kitchen, poured myself a whiskey (beer wasn't quite enough right then) and shook my head at the damned fool situation she'd got me into.

I really did love her. Maybe never more so.

They were giggling about something when I came back in, and hushed up quickly when they saw me.

I shook my finger at them jokingly, but couldn't say anything. Frog in my throat.

What would she have in hers soon?

I shuddered and sat down, leaning somewhat heavily on the armrest.

And I waited.

For over half an hour, nothing happened, and I'd relaxed. Even lost the hard-on that had formed steadily throughout the course of the evening.

Again, I still don't remember the movie. A comedy, I think. I don't remember laughing much, although I recall they both did.

Then, abruptly, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He looked at me questioningly for a second, then back at her, his eyebrows raised. She giggled and whispered again.

For the briefest of moments, I felt like I was back in high school, and the girl me and my friend both wanted was choosing my friend.

If those were the roots of jealousy, part of me didn't really care, because in a blink of an instant, I was rock hard again.

What happened, then, is she laid down, her feet coming down to my legs and she curled herself, so her head rested on his thigh.

He sort of looked over at me, a curious look on his face. I just pulled her calves down across my own thighs (not far from my hard-on) and gave him a manner of half-wave. And drank more whiskey.

What was I supposed to do in that situation?

And then we relaxed, more or less, and watched the movie again.

Once more, I had decided she was just playing with me ... that this wasn't going to happen. My cock, however, remained unconvinced, rock solid in my boxers.

It was, I should note, beginning to ache in that sweet kinda way.

Suddenly, she tapped it with her toe.

It brought me back to full sobriety like a rocket blast. I almost jumped. She tapped it again (after so many years of wedded bliss, she knew right where to find it) and I turned my gaze over.

My beloved bride had her hand on his crotch. Was she ... rubbing?

It was dark and I had a hard time telling.

Then I saw him shift his hips. I knew that shift.

She was rubbing him ... hard.

His head lolled back at one point and she took the opportunity to look back at me, her eyes wicked and delighted. "I ... told ... you," she mouthed to me, soundlessly.

I just nodded at her.

She turned back and slid her body forward, lowering her head to the front of his jeans, rubbing one beautiful, alabaster cheek hard across the rough material.

I could hear his breathing now.

Mindlessly, I slid a hand up my wife's leg. The shorts she was wearing were loose around the thighs, and I could easily slip a finger up and under the fabric. She wore no panties, I discovered.

To the sound of his zipper coming down and his belt buckle loosening, I slipped the finger forward and discovered a lake of wetness between my wife's legs, which spread at my touch. Her hips angled, drawing my finger in deep. I withdrew only far enough to place two more fingertips alongside the first, and her body moved to accommodate me easily.

I was so lost in my wife's pussy that I almost forgot what else was going on until I heard him gasp a little.

My attention moved back up, where she had indeed freed his cock from his briefs. It was, indeed, large. It was, indeed, rock hard. She was stroking him, lightly, a strange smile on her face. Then she pulled herself up to her knees, forcing me to shift so I could still see what was going on.

She bounced backwards then, twice, hard, pulling all my fingers into her with each thrust. With that, she rocked forward, her cheek landing down by his cock head. With her thumb, she made hard, tiny little circles on the spot on the underside, just beneath the head. Then she paused and gave four sharp, violent jerks up and down the shaft, twisting her hand as she did it.

I knew that motion well. He moaned and then, abruptly, almost guffawed at the more aggressive action. This was advanced stuff ... stuff you don't usually get from the college girls.

Through a fog, I realized she was calling my name as she fucked my fingers and rubbed his cock.

"Honey?" she said again, her voice a rising whine.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Honey, if you don't get those pants off and fuck me ... NOW ... I'm going to file for divorce!"

She didn't have to tell me twice.

I was up, pulling my pants down over my ankles when I saw her ... by the glow of the long-forgotten movie ... suck the upper third of his dick into her wide open, beautiful mouth. It took effort. He was, sure enough, a well-hung guy.

But she had more than enough skills to slowly work him deeper and deeper, jacking the exposed part of his cock with thumb and forefinger. I stood, transfixed. She was going to deep-throat that monster!

Rapidly, then, she smacked her ass three times, calling my attention to her poor, neglected pussy.

Sliding into her – and her body accepted me balls-deep on the initial thrust, a first for us – felt like coming home. At first. It seemed our natural rhythm, perfected by years of practice, was strangely off as she was distracted by her excellent work with lips and tongue ... it made it feel almost like fucking a stranger.

That thought began my rapid slide to the edge. An edge I could feel her approaching as well.

Her head bobbed now, literally, fast and hard as his cock rammed past her lips and down into her tight, sweet throat. His hard-on glistened in the glow of the television.

The only sound I could detect was my own heartbeat ... his breathing ... the pained, passionate little inhalations she drew in through her nostrils in between head bobs.

And then I could feel her cumming around my cock. The rhythm broke entirely and she plunged back, hard, against me. She pulled him out of her mouth and let out a moaning sob as she came.

He had been in mid-ejaculation himself, and as his cock head popped free, a jet of cool white jism splashed against her chin. It dangled there, and that's when we locked eyes.

That's all it took. I exploded inside her, the lights swimming and my knees quaking. By far the most intense orgasm of my life.

I gave a few more spastic thrusts as my mind and vision cleared.

She was wiping the cum off her chin and gasping to get her breath back.

He was staring at the ceiling, his world undoubtedly changed forever by the knowledge that hot, married women might suddenly blow you without much of a warning.

Me? I just returned to myself, realizing I was now officially the type of guy who'd watch his wife suck another man's cock.

And enjoy it, thoroughly.

"See him out, dear?" she asked me as she headed off to the bathroom to freshen up. She blew him a kiss as she got up and left the room.

It was a little awkward, as we walked to the door. We both decided we'd just see each other at work and, well, not talk about this at all. At least not until I bring it up. He was smiling as he left.

In the hallway outside our bedroom, I heard a very familiar whine working its way through the air.

"You're insatiable," I told her, as I walked in on her swizzling a long, pink, vibrator around in her cunt.

"Shut up and drop those boxers," she told me, her eyes slits. "I know you got another hard-on in you tonight."

I complied and damned if she wasn't right.

A very long time later, we lay in the dark. She was smoking a cigarette, which is something she doesn't do very often. Usually, it bothers me. That night, though, it seemed so appropriate.

"What did we do tonight?" She asked me, blowing smoke up into the ceiling fan.

"I dunno, but it was fantastic," I told her. I could see her smile at that.

"So what do we do next?" I asked her, trying to sound like I was making light of it ... but failing.

"Next?" She paused ... her cigarette was burning down and she took a last, long drag on it. "This time we sucked. Next time, we FUCK."

"Have him back for another movie night?"

She put her head on my chest. Leaned up and kissed me, tobacco smoke on her breath (among other things). "Nah, nice kid, but I think I'm done with him."

This actually pleased me. "So who you got in mind?"

"Oh, I got our next special friend all picked out." She kissed me again. That look was back in her eyes. "Don't look worried.

"Trust me. You're gonna like her."

And once more that night, damned if we didn't fuck again.