My Wife's Gentlemen Callers

What I'm writing about happened on a Friday night this past March. My wife Nancy and I had moved from Colorado six months earlier and were getting into a new routine in California. I've entered a doctoral program at UC-Berkeley while she works across the bay in San Francisco.

When I got home from the library that Friday at about 6:00 o'clock, Nancy gave me a quick kiss and went on with some minor straightening up in the living room. She hadn't been home long and hadn't entirely changed out of her work clothes. In fact, all she had on was a partially unbuttoned blouse, a bra, and a pair of white panties. I got a beer from the refrigerator and sat down on the couch. She was across the room, leaning forward on her knees with her back to me sorting through some magazines. I sipped my beer and luxuriated in the vision of that gorgeous tight ass of hers aimed invitingly at me. I realized (for the nine-hundredth time) how lucky I was.

Nancy is 5'4" tall and weighs maybe 115 pounds. She has medium-length blonde hair, a very pretty face, perfectly shaped though not large breasts, a flat belly, a neatly trimmed swatch of reddish-blonde cunt hair and, as mentioned, an absolutely gorgeous ass. Though she is now twenty-six, I think she looks about eighteen.

Finally I asked, "Do you notice anything different about the living room?"

Nancy straightened up and looked around. "Nothing obvious," she said. "It looks pretty much the same way it always does, except a little neater."

"That's good," I said. "I don't want it to look other than normal. But do you see anything different on the wall there?" I pointed to a small hole between two paintings fairly high up on the wall opposite the couch. She stood up and walked over to where I was pointing.

"Oh my God, is that what I think it is?" She was smiling ear-to-ear.

"It is if you think it's a peephole," I answered. I stood up and, taking her by the hand, led her around the corner and into the hall closet. I switched on the closet light and showed her the job I'd done in there that morning after she'd left for work.

"It's just like the one you made in Aurora!" she exclaimed. She turned to me in the closet and gave me a deep kiss. "My adorable pervert," she whispered to me. "When did you do this?" I told her. She ran her hands around the edges of the 16" by 16" hole I'd made in the closet wall, the gap where I could rest my chin while peering through the small hole I'd drilled in the living room wall opposite it.

"You're going to have to repair this before we move, you know," she said. "Lift me up, though, so I can see." I did as she asked. She stuck her head in the space I'd created between the studs and brought her right eye up to the peephole. "Wow! You can see almost the whole room from here," she said. "It's like a stage set. You know, I never looked through your peephole at the other place. Could you see everything this clearly there?"

I said that I could.

"No wonder you loved sex theater [our name for her exhibitionist and my voyeuristic game] so much," said Nancy as we returned to the living room and sat down on the couch. "From here the peephole isn't noticeable at all. I'll bet you could see every dirty little thing those guys did to me back in Colorado, couldn't you."

Remembering Colorado

Nancy snuggled up against me as I put my right hard inside her panties and began kissing her and fingering her cunt. As we necked, I began talking about our "sex theater" experiences. Until recently (when we'd become distracted by the demands of our new life in California), we'd talked about it a lot. "I think your video shoot was my favorite, Nancy. I just loved watching Nick fingering and eating your cunt and it was really exciting to see those guys from your class, Jerry and John, turned on by it too. I especially loved it when Nick rubbed that big cock of his against your cunt until you came." [For a full report of these adventures, see in Exhibitionist and Voyeur section, "My Wife's Night Class," parts 1-8].

She had spread her legs wide so I had better access to her crotch. "Did I just cum once with Nick?" she asked softly. She knew the answer, but this was part of our sex-talk ritual – my reminding her of how hot her exhibitionism had been. "No, you came several times. Once when Nick rubbed the head of his cock against your cunt lips and once when he was eating you. And then you came a third time. That was while John was fingerfucking you. Do you remember that?"

"Oh, yes, Cal. Yes, I remember," answered my wife. Her voice had become a rasping whisper. I could tell she was getting very excited recalling the events while I played with her cunt. By this time, I had pulled her panties loose at the crotch so I could more easily work my fingers in and out of her.

"Did you forget how John wiped Nick's cum off your ass with some Kleenex and then began fingering you? You didn't stop him, though you could've. And Wendell [the photographer in charge] got it all on video."

"I just couldn't stop," said Nancy. "When John did that to me it just felt too good."

By now my cock was very hard and getting uncomfortable in my trousers. I stood up and quickly and removed my shoes, socks, trousers, and briefs. Nancy pulled her panties all the way off and sat watching me stroke my cock.

"Was Nick's cock bigger than this?" I asked her. Again, I knew the answer, but this was part of our dirty talk.

"Yes, Cal, it was. Your cock is really nice and big. But don't you remember how long and thick Nick's was? I'm so glad he didn't actually stick it inside me. I'm afraid it might've hurt." She had begun rubbing her clit now.

"I'll bet you wish sometimes you'd let him actually fuck you, though. You know how much he wanted to," I said. I crawled up on the couch and held my cock up to Nancy's face. "Don't you wonder sometimes how that huge cock would've felt way up inside you?"

Nancy said, "Oh, God!" and began masturbating more furiously. I could tell she was getting close to an orgasm, but she stopped fingering her clit for a while and took my cock deep inside her mouth. I worked it in and out of her mouth then held it steady as she worked her very talented tongue around the crown. Then she took as much of my cock inside her mouth as she could and gave it a good sucking for about almost thirty seconds. Then, with a gasp, she pulled away and began masturbating again.

"Oh, Cal, I'm almost ready to cum. Let me do this some more."

"Let me help," I said. I climbed off the couch and got on my knees in front of her. I forced my hands under her ass and pulled her lower body forward so that her thighs rested on my shoulders and her pretty cunt was right in my face. By now, her clit was the size of a small pea and her labia were red and slightly swollen. "Tell me how you liked licking Nick's cock when Wendell told you to. Maybe you didn't actually put it in your mouth, but I saw you running your tongue all over the head of it."

"The end of his cock was spongy. I really liked kissing and licking it," she said, almost meekly. Her pubic hair was tickling my nose as I buried my tongue deep inside her cunt and waggled it around. Then I took it out and began sucking and tongue-lashing her clit. "Oh God, Cal, that feels so good!"

I stopped eating her briefly. "Say more about what Nick did," I said. Then I got back to it.

"Uh, well, he was really, really good at eating my cunt. Like you're doing now. But, uh, you're just as good. Uh, but what he was really good at was using his big cock against my vagina without going inside. I don't think any of it went inside, at least. I was so excited I couldn't really sure."

"Did he get the head of it in, maybe?" I asked. I now had two fingers deep inside her cunt as I worked on her clit with my tongue. "I couldn't see everything from the peephole."

"Uh, he might have, just the very end of his cock maybe. God, Cal, that's feeling too good. I'm going to have to cum soon!"

"If Nick had rammed the huge cock of his cock all the way inside you, what would've happened?" I asked. I quickly resumed eating her cunt.

"Oh, Cal! Oh, shit!" she exclaimed. "I think I would've passed out if he'd done that! I would've! It would've felt so good I couldn't help it! Ah....ah.....I'm cumming now!" she shouted. She was writhing now, in the throes of a very large orgasm. It lasted for almost thirty seconds, I think. In the middle of it, she pushed my mouth away from her clit. (She's explained to me that sometimes when she's having a strong orgasm she needs to give her clit a short rest. It gets too sensitive, almost painful, when it's over-stimulated).

After recovering for maybe thirty seconds, Nancy stood up and pulled me up to the couch – she can be surprisingly strong -- so that I lay on my back. She then maneuvered her body so that, facing away from me, she straddled my chest. She then scooted backward a foot or so until her wide-open, sopping-wet cunt was just inches from my mouth. Of course, I instantly raised my head and stuck my tongue back inside. She made a little appreciative noise, then leaned forward and began sucking my cock again. This sixty-nining went on for several minutes. I kept tonguing and nibbling her, loving the taste of her, my mouth and jaw sloppy wet. My mind went back to how I'd loved watching Nick doing the same thing to her. And I remembered how much I got off on sharing the sight with the other guys (the photographer Wendell, her classmates John and Jerry). The thought of all this, and the incredible job my wife was doing on my cock, brought me right to the edge of orgasm.

She could tell I was close, but I warned her anyway.

She stopped sucking my cock long enough to whisper, "Go ahead and cum in my mouth. I want to swallow it."

And that's just what I did. Groaning with the most intense pleasure, I thrust my hips up and sent spurt after spurt into Nancy's mouth. She swallowed every drop of it. When she had drained me completely, she let her body fall forward. An after-tingle went the length of my body and, for a minute or so, I could feel her breath against the inside of my right knee. As she rested straddling me in this way, her ass was still elevated and for some time I lay perfectly still contemplating her tight little asshole and glistening wet cunt. Damn, am I a lucky guy!

"I didn't get to fuck you," I said.

She gave a little sigh of contentment and kissed me on the knee. "Never mind. That was wonderful. We can get around to fucking later."

Getting Ready to Go Out

We decided to start our evening by eating at a neighborhood restaurant. But, as Nancy showered and got ready to go, I decided to walk down to a corner store to buy a six-pack of beer since we were nearly out.

When I returned, I found her standing stark naked in the living room drying off with a large towel. "What should I wear tonight," she asked

"The less and the hornier the better," I said.

"It might be chilly tonight," she answered. "But I could wear my long coat, a little dress, boots, and not much else. How would that be?"

"Sounds good to me," I said. "You'll be indoors most of the time, anyway. What do you mean by 'not much else'?" I was standing behind her now, caressing her high, firm tits and kissing her neck.

"I'm not sure yet, but let me look around for something." She pulled away from me and headed down the hall to our bedroom.

I sat down on the couch and switched on the television. I cracked a beer and watched an old "Will and Grace" episode for about twenty minutes, then switched off the TV and walked down the hall to change my shirt and sweater and see what Nancy was up to.

She was standing in front of the full-length mirror wearing a mid-thigh, high-necked blue dress, made of some kind of very thin, clinging material that showed off every curve of her body. She had her hands up behind her head as she struggled to capture her hair in a large wooden beret. "Damn!" she complained. "My hair's still too short to put up this way. I guess I'll have to wear it down." (Good, I thought to myself, I like it better that way anyhow.)

"You know," I said, "when you were fooling with your hair just then, the bottom of your dress pulled up almost to your ass. It's pretty short, isn't it. Did you plan on wearing panties?" I was lying on one elbow on the bed behind her, so her pretty butt was just at eye level.

"Do you want me to?" she asked. She was smiling at me devilishly in the mirror as she brushed her hair.

"Please don't. And whatever you do, do your best not to be too careful about how you sit or bend over."

"Unless we're around children, cops, or nuns, right?"

"Right," I answered. "I suppose off-duty cops are all right, but we don't want any outraged citizens." All of this was a joke, of course. Nancy knew perfectly well how to expose herself discreetly, selectively.

As I finished getting ready, she pulled on a pair of soft leather boots, with medium heels, over bare legs. They covered most of her lower legs. Then she put on a necklace and did some last-minute work on her eyes and lips while I finished getting dressed.

On the Town

We had a leisurely dinner at a Chinese restaurant in our neighborhood. Then we drove to downtown Berkeley (about eight miles from our apartment) and looked for a likely place to find an unwitting co-star for tonight's sex theater. We decided on an Irish bar on Shattuck Avenue.

I dropped Nancy off in front of the bar and watched her go in. Then I drove around for about twenty minutes until I found a parking place about four blocks away. By the time I got back to the bar, it was about 10:00 o'clock and she'd been inside without me for almost half an hour.

I should explain that when we're playing our exhibitionist-voyeur game we never enter a bar as a couple. I'm fairly large and quite fit, so guys don't usually come on to Nancy when we're out together.

The place was pretty crowded, mostly with college types but also a few older folks. Mainly there seemed to be couples and groups of couples. I pushed my way through the crowd on the ground-floor part of the club (where some musicians were getting ready to play), but didn't see Nancy. So I walked upstairs. It was fairly crowded there, too, but I saw her right away. She had joined two guys, who looked like they were in their middle thirties, at a small table just at the top of the stairs. She hadn't removed her long coat yet. I managed to find a seat at the small bar from which, at a range of maybe twenty-five feet, I was able to watch inconspicuously what went on at the table. I ordered a Guinness.

From my vantage point, Nancy was sitting on the right side of table, with her back toward the stairs. One of the men had his back to me, and the other sat on the left side. They were apparently sharing a pitcher of beer or ale, but my wife had a full glass of white wine in front of her. By then, they were past the introductions stage and were talking freely. The two men were well dressed and conventionally handsome, though one was rather paunchy.

Nancy spotted me at the bar and flashed me a discreet smile.

So far things were pretty tame. But when, about five minutes after I arrived, my wife stood up, removed her coat, and turned to lay it over her chair, the two guys got a greater appreciation of just how sexy their new drinking companion was. Her blue dress clung to her body so tightly that when she turned her back to them, bending slightly at the waist and fussily arranging her coat over the back of her chair, they got a great up-close view of her lovely butt. Since the crack of her ass showed through the material slightly (I'd noticed this earlier), they must have been wondering whether she was wearing a very skimpy thong or no panties at all.

When she sat down again, I noticed, even from where I sat, that her erect nipples showed prominently beneath the thin, semi-sheer fabric of her dress. Her new friends, sitting quite close to her, were getting a much better view since the rather critical light above the table penetrated her dress to reveal the exact size and erectness of her nipples. And I knew (though I was too far away to see clearly) that the light probably revealed the light-pink of her coronas.

As they chatted and drank, Nancy leaned back in her chair several times, a move that attracted even more attention to her breasts. Her new friends were pretending to be interested in what she had to say, but mostly, I'm afraid, they were just looking at her tits. After twenty minutes or so, the one sitting next to her walked to the bar and bought another glass of wine for Nancy. The cad! Was he trying to get my wife drunk and take advantage of her?

After thirty minutes or so of watching my wife's new friends devour her body with their eyes, I left my drink on the bar and, retreating to the rear of the bar, called her cell phone. From across the room I watched her reach down into a pocket in her coat, which she was sitting on, to retrieve her cell. As she swiveled her body to reach into the coat pocket, she let her legs fell wide open for maybe five seconds, giving the guy sitting nearest her (the trimmer, better-looking of the two) what had to have been a great view of her naked crotch. Then, excusing herself, she stood up and walked unsteadily, as though she'd already had too much to drink, about ten feet away from their table to answer her call more privately.

"Hi, Cal," she said, answering her phone. She wasn't actually drunk, of course. Her voice was steady, sober.

"Did you know the guy you just showed your stuff to immediately told his buddy what he saw?" She'd missed it -- the guy she'd flashed leaning quickly to his left to whisper to his paunchy friend. By the time she turned to look back at her table, the one she'd "accidentally" flashed was studiously looking in the opposite direction and the other guy was smiling benignly at her.

"I hope he liked what he saw. Maybe I was a little obvious. But you know how I am when I've had a couple. I tried to give him some earlier glimpses, too, before I gave him the full beaver shot. He's nice looking, don't you think? He's got this great French accent and it's getting me a little turned on."

"That's good. What would you like to do now?"

"I think I'll play drunk and helpless a little longer," said Nancy. "The fact is, I've had three wines now and I'm actually beginning to feel it. I'll tell them something heart-rending, how I got separated from friends and, golly, how I could do with a ride home. I've already complained about recently being abandoned by my son-of-a-bitch husband, so they think I'm a poor soul alone in the world. I know one of them has a rental car. Did I mention that they're here from Canada for some kind of anthropology conference? So we've actually been chatting about fairly interesting stuff. One said something about Montreal and the other one might be from there too. They said they're flying back tomorrow afternoon. I'm pretty sure they're married."

"Not to each other, I hope."

"Don't worry. They're not gay. Especially not the one sitting next to me. He's really been interested in all the bad things I've been saying about my husband. And they both really liked the revenge idea I floated a few minutes ago, the one about getting photographed in a compromising position with some other man just to prove to the S.O.B. that other men might find me attractive. I know he'd drive me home if I asked him to."

"OK, give it a try. I'll stick around and make sure it works. I'll wait for you to leave before I head back to the apartment. Stall whoever drives a little bit so I get there before you do. If you want to use the digital camera, it's all charged up. I'll leave it out on the kitchen table."

"Bye, sweetie," she said. "I'll see if I can get things churning. I guess I'll tell them this call is from one of my irresponsible drinking friends. You know, how she got sidetracked and I'm on my own."