This story follows the events of Vegas Hardcore. Henry and Elle have returned from Vegas.
Chapter One
My clock alarm on my phone went off; I could tell that it was still dark, as I touched the off icon. Just as I turned back over to catch another couple of minutes of sleep, Elle, lying on her side, with her back to me, reached back and slipped her hand around my half hard cock. Within seconds I was faced with a dilemma.
I had had a few too many shots of tequila with my favorite bartender/waitress Camilla, last night, at this new sports bar she moonlights at on Friday nights and I could really use the extra sleep. On the other hand, my wife who was now softly stroking me, felt really good. She was using a really delicate touch that was just enough to keep me hard without making me come. After about ten minutes later she turned over and began licking and biting first one of my nipples and then the other. My decision was
made for me.
I reached down and pulled her chin up to my face and kissed her. We licked each other's lips and pressed our tongues into each other's mouth. I lay on my side and pulled her into my body, and began to play with her pierced right nipple. Her moan was muffled by my mouth. We slowly wrestled with each other until she slid up and sat on my face, my mouth recreating on and in her pussy what I had been doing to her mouth.
Elle spit into her hand, leaned back, grabbed my hardness and started rubbing it again. I was in my own little world at this point. The room was dark, I could see nothing; my wife's muscular thighs covered my ears, effectively making me deaf; and my mouth was having the most intimate conversation it could have with her pussy.
Elle let go of my cock and rose slightly sliding back on my body until her pussy reached my cock. She slipped the head into herself and bent over to kiss me. She was velvety soft and so warm inside. I started to raise my hips and she whispered that she would be doing the fucking this morning. I stopped pushing and ran my hands along her hips and waist. Elle reached down and took my wrists and pulled them up behind my head.
Lately she has expressed interest in exploring her dominant side and I was interested in helping her learn about herself as well as see how I would react to a different side of her. I thought it would be interesting to see how I, an admitted alpha male would respond to giving up control, completely.
Elle was gripping my wrists and holding me in place while slowly, painfully slowly fucking me. I would have sped up, fucked harder, but she was on top, controlling the action. Don't misunderstand I was definitely enjoying this early morning sex. Elle was placing little bites on my chin, my neck, my cheek. It wasn't painful but the pace and tenderness of her torture sent me over the edge. I came inside of her,
and despite my attempt to keep still. My body betrayed me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling. When I opened my eyes, Elle was staring into my eyes.
She merely whispered: "You came before me, without permission..." she slipped up and off of my cock, placing her clean shaven pussy over my mouth once again: "Clean my cunt, slut." She growled. The first of my semen slowly dripping from her swollen lips touched my mouth. I had tasted my own cum in Vegas from a post blow job kiss, but this was a big step from that. Still, it was my own cum and my own wife's pussy. I licked the first drops into my mouth and swallowed, I could feel Elle shudder from the realization of what I was beginning to do. Not bitter, not really very salty...it had almost no taste really.
I licked around the lips and Elle's opening and that was enough for my bride as she began to grind her pussy onto my face. I shoved my tongue inside of her and more cum came down into my mouth. I was licking, probing, swallowing and along with those sensations the realization that her macho, ex-jock husband was eating his own cum out of her pussy sent her into a long wet orgasm. The former gymnast gracefully rolled over on to her back, lying next to me. "Fuck that was good..." she whispered.
"Did you like that?" she asked.
"It was okay," I answered honestly. "Would you like to eat some from the source?" She whispered in a soft but excited manner.
"You mean, would I suck some other guy's cock? Only if he had 40 inch DD tits..." I responded, also honestly.
"Would you fuck a guy for me, so I could watch? Maybe in a threesome with me?" she asked softly.
"I would do a threesome with you...female or male...I don't know if I could get it hard to fuck a guy," and I paused, "But for you I'd try...no cocksucking though." I finished.
"What if I make him suck you?" I sighed and rose from the bed to go to the bathroom, "I'd have to see...." Elle whispered, but I still heard her say, "Oh, yes we will...see."
I turned back and saw that she had her eyes closed, her right hand between her legs and her left hand pinching and squeezing her nipple....
After a shower, then walking and feeding Achilles, our Siberian husky, I made coffee. It was 8:30am when Elle came downstairs. She was all showered and primped and dressed. She was wearing a tight, grey, buttoned down, dress shirt along with a tight, narrow, black skirt. She was carrying some black high heeled pumps in one hand and one of her giant Coach carryalls in the other hand. I asked where she was headed off to on Saturday morning.
As she poured a half a cup of coffee into her travel mug and said she had a meeting at her old office with Chase her former boss, to discuss which clients she was taking with her and who was staying with his firm. This was all based on a decision that Elle made in Las Vegas, during our recent trip there, to open her own office.
We had been home from our very wild adventure, in Las Vegas, for two months. The toughest thing she did upon returning home was to tell everyone that she was going out on her own and opening up her one office. She was a financial advisor and was the top revenue producer at the firm. We talked at length and both felt it was time for her to strike out on her own. She had had a very tough time telling her boss, Chase. He had given Elle her start and she was fiercely loyal to him, but it was really the right time.
Chase also had a huge crush on Elle which we both knew. I knew because one day while shooting pool with me and a lot of beers, a less than sober Chase told me he would give anything for one night in bed with Elle. I didn't get mad at all, I understood. Elle stands 5'3" in bare feet, although she is usually wearing 4-5 inch pumps, one of my two major fetishes. She has flaming red hair to her shoulders, to frame a beautiful Scottish-Irish face. Her body is lightly tanned (she is half Scottish and half Irish) and she is a walking, talking super heroine.
In fact, I use her body as a model for my lead female character in one of the two comic books that I write and draw. She lifts weights daily, along with an intense swimming regimen and practices yoga. Her breasts, my other major fetish, are enhanced 34Ds with proud, erect nipples, of which, the right one is pierced by a platinum ring.
Elle has three ways of dressing: professional woman in smart suits or wrap dresses in sensible business heels; gym rat sweats with cross trainers and weight lifting gloves; and Saturday night exhibitionist. Saturday nights and some occasional Fridays, Elle goes into her hot closet. It's a separate closet that houses her bad girl clothes. High heel shoes, very short skirts and dresses, boy sized dress shirts, low cut tops, sheer ones, backless ones, and skin tight jeans in leather, denim and suede. We've had some fun playing our game this past year.
Our game is a kind of catch and release human fishing game and Elle is the bait. Elle and I will enter a large bar separately (I usually enter first) and I find an inconspicuous place, but one from where I can see her enter, easily. Then she comes in and walks around. Her excuse, when she inevitably gets offered a drink by some guy or guys is that she's waiting for a friend. I enjoy seeing guys fall all over themselves trying to attract her attention and keep it. It gets Elle's motor running as well. And over the last year she's really come to enjoy showing of her hard earned body.
Now Elle grabbed her oversized bag, kissed me and said she'd be back by 1:00 so I could take her to lunch. That was fine as I was behind on my deadline for the latest issue of one of the two comic books that I produce. As she walked downstairs to the garage, Achilles and I went upstairs to get to work...
...I looked at my watch, it was noon. Elle would be here in an hour or so. We had a lunch date and I had a surprise for her. I ran into my closet and got dressed, some Levis', a dark, blue Ralph Lauren dress shirt and my black cowboy boots. (It's a habit I picked up when I lived in Texas, years ago.) On the way past my office, I grabbed part of my surprise and placed it by the front door. I took Achilles, for a quick walk. As we walked back up to the front door of our townhouse, Elle pulled up into the driveway in her Red Corvette. I leaned over, kissed her and told her to stay in the car. I let the dog inside, and grabbed the picnic basket I left at the door. I got inside the Vette and sat the basket on my lap.
Elle said she couldn't believe I wasn't insisting on driving. I told her I was working on my control issues. I told Elle how to get where we were going; our destination was only 12 blocks away. We pulled up to a converted loft building that was once a small factory. I clicked a button on my phone and the garage door opened. Elle pulled inside, and I directed her into the third parking space. She turned off the engine and asked what this place was.
I told her it was her new office. I took her hand and led her to the elevator. I told her she was going to need a place to have clients over. She protested that she had planned on using our house for a while. I politely said it wasn't professional enough for some clients and this was a place that I was thinking of leasing for myself as a studio, but this was much better for her.
