Museum Tryst

A seduction? I'm not sure I would call it that. Perhaps it was just finding the right woman - someone who wanted sex, someone who wanted to be fucked. Sex is too refined for what happened that Sunday.

My wife was working. Trying to catch up from the week that never ends. And because of this, our usual swinging had come to an abrupt standstill. And for me? I slept in late and wandered to a museum just to get out. I guess some people call it a rutt. I call it a week without sex. And for me the museum offered some respite from thinking of it.

Rarely did I go just for the art. Instead, wandering past the paintings and sculptures, I usually noticed a woman or two. Perhaps a tourist, or a housewife spending her afternoon while her husband golfed in the country.

It was always the same. I noticed a pair of calves moving beneath a skirt or a breast, pressing against a blouse. No, I wouldn't stare, just notice. Perhaps walk at her pace through an exhibit while watching how she moved, how she enjoyed the art, how she stood.

But on this day it was different. Yes, I wandered past some Monet's before seeing a blonde woman of medium height. Dressed in a light skirt and a white blouse with low heels on. I watched as she moved and followed her at a discrete distance. I watched to see which paintings she admired and viewed as how she regarded them. My own sex becoming semi-rigid as she adjusted her shoe at one point, her skirt riding up her thigh. She seemed to catch my eye for just a second before moving on.

At one point, I lost her around a corner when entering a room and thought my exhibit had ended. So instead I stopped in front of a large canvas to admire it. That's when I heard her voice. Soft and quiet; directly in my ear. "It's impressive isn't it?"

Without turning I answered. "Beautiful. Inspiring."

"It's amazing what we can see if we just stop and look for a moment." I nodded in response.

"You seem to enjoy looking."

I smiled to myself, unsure if she could see me or not. "It's one of life's simple pleasures."

I turned to look at her, and yes it was the same woman. "Would you like to get a cup of coffee?" I asked.

"Is your wife golfing too?" She said, nodding at my ring.

I laughed. "Working on a Sunday. You can't have it all you know."

"I'm not sure about that," I heard her voice say as she looked away.

We enjoyed a cup of coffee with short, terse words. Words that hid beneath our meaning. Words that at one point rolled into an invitation. Words that brought us both into a taxi to my wife's and my apartment. Words that brought her upstairs with the full knowledge of what was going to happen. Words that put her in the living room with a glass of wine as I silently and slowly opened her blouse to reveal a lacy white brassiere. Words that brought my hand up to caress the soft flesh above the lace and brought my lips to kiss her neck. Words that made a finger pull the thin fabric down around her breast revealing a pink nipple that contrasted against her pale, white skin.

I knew she would be pale. Her red hair and fair complexion told me in the museum she would be like some marble statue. As I took her nipple into my mouth and felt it's soft hardness and rolled it around on my tongue I knew her sex would be topped by a thin tuft of red hair.

A small flame that would point the way to more pink flesh. I moved up and crushed her lips with mine, holding her by the base of her head, moving my fingers around her neck as my lips explored her, as my tongue caressed the small pearls of teeth. I watched her hand with the wine, moving backward, holding it by two fingers at the stem of the glass.

I continued to unbutton her blouse, opening it to reveal her stomach and waist. I moved lower, kissing, caressing, tasting her flesh. I moved my hands to her ass, to feel the muscles work as she shifted to balance herself. I moved a finger to her nipple to tease and pull at it, to hear her moan above my actions. And finally, I moved my fingers to the small zipper at her side, pulling it down, feeling gravity pulling her skirt to her ankles.

And as I rose I grabbed her free hand and put it directly on my crotch. Closing my own fingers around hers, feeling her reaction as she closed her hand around me. She lowered herself to her knees and I watched as her blouse hung off her arms, as her bra failing to support her breasts any more, hung at her waist. I watched as I guided her hands to my zipper and her mouth to my cock. I watched as I held my own penis and guided it toward her mouth. I watched as her mouth opened tentatively and took just the tip in before the small pink tip of her tongue peeked its way out to touch me. I caressed her hair and her head as I pressed myself into her. And I watched as her mouth opened just a bit more to accept it.

She was timid, and slow at this. Seemingly not sure of what to do. Or not totally comfortable with sucking a strange man's cock in a strange apartment. Not sure of having him guide her hands to his balls and his cock. Not sure she was any longer in control. I raised her up and kissed her. Tasting myself on her tongue, tasting her being unsure of kissing a man after sucking him.

I pushed her back on the couch and slowly pulled her panties off. Small, lacy things that rolled into a thin ball as I lowered them past her knees. I opened her legs and moved my head into her sex. I held them slightly high as my mouth moved to the bright pink flesh, wet with her own juices, opening like some exotic flower. Any my own tongue flicking along the soft folds. I spent what seemed like hours taking my time to explore every little wrinkle before moving to the now stiff nub of her sex. Teasing, biting, exploring. I could feel her orgasm as her bottom lifted off the seat, allowing me to move a finger to her rear. A finger that augmented the steady probing of her cunt.

I could feel her clasp her ass in response, a mild no. But it continued anyway. Probing, testing, pushing, moving its way in. And when I looked up, I could see her true reaction. Her eyes rolling up, her mouth open in a silent moan, her own fingers teasing her nipples.

And that's when I heard my wife. Laughing, kind, inquisitive, "and what have we here?" The poor woman pulled back, in the midst of an orgasm, but too shocked to enjoy it, not sure what was happening.

"Ms. Penton, from the driver's license in your purse." Oh she was good, taking the time to rifle the poor woman's purse before entering the living room. The woman gasped, but it was too late. My wife had taken control of the situation.

"No don't stop. I'll pick up that phone and make a quick call if you stop." Oh, that was good. "Better still, I want to see you suck my husband's cock as you play with your own pussy."

The woman was in too much shock to do anything. "Go ahead. Or I'll make a call and tell your husband exactly what you're doing here." I stood beside the woman, my own pants in a pool around my feet. I watched my wife take the cordless from the cradle. "What would you like to do?"

In response the woman leaned forward to take me in her mouth. "Say it," my wife warned.

"Say what?" The poor woman asked, wondering what she had gotten herself into. "Say what you're going to do right now."

"Suck him?"

My wife smirked. "Oh come on, you can do better than that. It's not every day a woman gets caught cheating by another man's wife."

The smirk turned into a sneer. "Now be a good little slut and tell me exactly what you are doing to do with my husband's cock while you finger your pussy!"

The woman was in question, "I'm going to suck it?" She meekly said. "Louder." "I'm going to suck his cock."

"And?"

"And?" Came her response?

"And your pussy?"

"I'm, I'm going to play with my pussy?"

My wife smiled, "Oh that's good. Now why don't we try it again?"

"I'm going to suck his cock and play with my pussy." "Again." "I'm going to suck his cock and play with my pussy."

"Again."

"I'm going to suck his cock and play with my pussy." My wife broke the little pattern they had set up. "Well then what are you waiting for? Suck his cock." Oh she was getting good at this.

I felt the woman's mouth engulf me. Her eyes closed as I watched her fingers move to her own sex and I thought I heard a tear being stifled. And then I saw my wife began to remove her own clothes. She walked up to the woman and kneeled between her legs. Pushing her knees apart. The woman balked. She pulled her lips from my cock and tried to push my wife away. But she was already there. And I couldn't do anything but help.

I grabbed the small hands of the woman and held them up as my wife began to feast on the wet, dripping pussy of some man's wife. I could feel her start to cum as my wife continued. I moved her hands to my cock, letting her instinctively grab it. I helped her stroke me, feeling the pressure build in my balls as I moved one of the small fingers to my ass, urging it in.

I watched as the woman tried to move her finger away, but unable to as I pushed it in. And when I came, I came directly on her face. Watching that delicate face become covered in strands of white cum as my wife covered her pink lips with the juices from our innocent.

Then my wife looked up at me. "I want you to fuck her." And she held the woman's lips open for me, guiding my cock into them, and into the depths of her cunt. As I entered her, my wife began the task of cleaning my cum from the woman's face with her own tongue and feeding them to our slut. Her hand reached out to my neck, pulling my own head down for a mixing of our three tongues.

I could taste my cum being rolled from tongue to tongue as my own cock buried its way into her. My wife's own hands grasping my shaft and playing with the woman's clit. I could feel the woman cumming again and again under the administrations of my wife and I .

And then my wife pulled on the woman. Pulling her down onto the couch, urging her toward her own wet pussy. The woman resisted for a moment, before leaning into my wife. Timidly at first but then with all the force of some midnight dyke as I continued fucking her.

This continued for the afternoon. Without a sound we introduced our poor guest into more sex than she had experienced in a lifetime of golf husbands and country clubs. And the final word was her willingness to return for another afternoon of wine and art…..