With her connections at a local TV station, my wife Cheryl went from being a local artist to professional set designer in only a few years. It seems Hollywood has no shortage of cash when one has creative ideas to bring to life.
And when one executive producer saw her works in stainless steel, bronze, and glass, he offered such an outrageous sum to design a set for a national game show he was promoting, Cheryl was more than happy to make the two hour commute to Hollywood, to work for her new boss, Phil Falk.
For over three months, Cheryl has travelled between stage 16 at Paramount, various metal and glass contractors' shops, and home. Although she found the work exhilarating, she was exhausted all of the time. There was barely the chance for us to squeeze in some snuggle time, let alone a normal sexual encounters.
I knew my 45-year-old wife wanted more alone time as well, but I understood how important this once in a lifetime gig was to her. I settled for a hand job most of the time, with the occasional blowjob, whenever Cheryl was in the mood. I love going down on her, and we could each get off pretty quickly, which meant more time for her to rest up for the next day at work.
My wife would tell me how great Phil and Barbara are, as his wife often showed up with him to check out the progress. She described the couple as 60 year-olds Barbie and Ken, but with charismatic personalities, very fit, and always smartly dressed.
To be honest, I was a little jealous of her sudden popularity, but despite the lack of attention I was getting in bed, I didn't give a second thought when Cheryl told me that Barb and Phil asked her to stay over one Wednesday night. Their workday had gone exceptionally long, and using a guest room would save her driving home late and returning to Hollywood early in the morning.
After coming home late Thursday, Cheryl suggested that we put on our swimsuits and enjoy a glass of wine in the hot tub. The suggestion of clothes told me that my wife not in the mood, yet again.
While we were enjoying our wine in the sudsy water, Cheryl began raving about their opulent home. "The foyer is as big as our entire house, Al," she said. "And they have a cook, maid, and butler as well!" She went on in great detail about Phil and Barb, and how sweet they are together.
When Cheryl made a comment that Phil always finds a way to get what he wants, I have to admit I felt my first jab of anxiety. Phil and Barb had become all that my wife was talking about lately. While all of her talk only made me more jealous of their relationship, Cheryl saved the day when she scooched a little and removed her bikini bottoms, holding them up for me.
I needed no further enticement, and hoisted my petite wife up onto the edge of the spa. My 4'11", 100 pound dynamo wife sat on the edge, her bikini top still covering her 32A breasts, and her legs splayed wide for me. I gazed upon her tanned thighs and the gap between them that narrowed at her pussy. That was when I gasped at the sight of her pussy hair having been entirely shaven smooth.
"You like, Allan?" she asked, her diminutive fingers gliding along her inner thighs. I stared at the stark, white triangle of baby soft skin above Cheryl's pussy lips; and the puffy, rounded slit that used to be well camouflaged beneath the tuft of black curls.
"Wow! When did you do that?" My fingers and thumb savored the freshly shorn skin while my wife looked down at me with a broad grin.
"When Phil and I arrived at their place last night after work, Barb was upstairs with her aesthetician. She called me up and asked if I wanted to get cleaned up before I showered and went to bed for the night. Barb was getting a Brazilian wax and asked if I wanted to try it."
I barely heard any of that, as I moved toward the enchanting sight. Cheryl leaned back, rested on her hands behind her, and raised her feet to the edge of the tub, to afford me better access to her slick pussy. My hands cupped her ass globes, and her musk filled my nostrils. Never, in our twenty year marriage, has Cheryl ever shaven her bush like this. Yes, she would shave a landing strip or a well-trimmed triangle, but not this.
Upon contact with her tiny nubbin, Cheryl let out, "God, yes!" and I went to town. My rock hard 6" of cock tapped against the side of the pool as I feasted on this porn star-like pussy. Except for Cheryl's constant moaning, it felt like I was eating out a totally different woman, and that just brought me closer to cumming right there.
In seconds, Cheryl squealed as her orgasm took her over. One hand held my head firm, while my tongue flicked her clit until she could take no more. When her panting ebbed, Cheryl called out, " I need your dick!" I grabbed her around her skinny waist and lifted my wife up over my hips. My rigid cock was bouncing between her muscular thighs, straining to find her entrance. Cheryl lowered a hand and guided my flailing cock to the right place - parting the velvety lips of her vestibule. I entered her with ease, her lubricant oozing from deep within.
It had been months since I had been inside her, and seeing Cheryl ride me like a jockey on a racehorse, only made my ability to hold off from ejaculating futile. Her slippery pussy lips crushed my furry pubes as Cheryl took me as deep as I was able.
"Cum inside me, Baby!" That encouragement was more than enough for me to spill my wad. Her taut nipples scraped my chest hairs as I held Cheryl tightly while my semen sprayed inside. We kissed while my erection wilted; my cock slipped from Cheryl's warm, sopping hole.
It was time to get out of the pool, so the filters could take away the scum that oozed from Cheryl's freshly fucked pussy. On our way up to bed, Cheryl said, "Oh, I forgot to mention that Phil and Barb asked if you could come up with me tomorrow. They want to take us to the beach for the weekend, to get some needed rest, and get to know you better. Can you take the day off tomorrow?"
I didn't answer right away, thinking that at least I would meet the new people in Cheryl's life. And a weekend at the beach did sound like a great time to spend with my wife. Maybe her new boss and his wife would ease some of my anxiety over their newly formed bond with her. "Sure. I will take a vacation day, Cheryl. It will be good to finally spend some time with you." With that we retired to the bedroom to nuzzle some more before going to sleep.
In the morning, Cheryl had some light grey khaki shorts and a matching polo shirt laid out for me. She was wearing white cotton shorts and a short-sleeved white blouse with, of course, no bra under. Her brown, puffy nipples contrasted beneath the wispy, bleached material. With an overnight bag packed, Cheryl and I wound our way up the coast highway, arriving at Phil and Barb's mansion in the hills. The long driveway led to their home; a golf cart parked in front of one of the five garages, a red Ferrari next to that, and a Mercedes convertible inside an open garage. The size of the property and the pillared fortress was daunting, yet our hosts were outside the massive front doors to greet us personally.
Barb caught my eye first. The tall woman wore a mid-thigh length, pearl colored miniskirt, and a sleeveless white blouse that billowed in the light breezy air. Barb's long sleek legs were in 5" white stilettos, which made her even look taller next to Cheryl. Her tits were huge, probably DDs, as the wind formed the chiffon to each melon; Barb's thick, pink nipples standing proudly in the breeze. I decided then that they were likely enhanced surgically, almost too big for her long, slender frame. Barb wore a scrunchie to keep her very long, blonde hair in check. She smiled widely as leaned way over and reached out her arms to hug Cheryl. I watched as Barb's bulbous melons mashed into Barb's flat chest while thy pecked their hellos.
I pulled the bag from the back seat as the women kissed on the cheek, and then hugged. When I looked back up, Phil was right in my face, smiling broadly. "Well, this is the guy who gives Cheryl her creativity!" A firm hand on my shoulder showed his comfort and power in the moment.
As Phil gripped my shoulder, I took in his body for the first time. His cobalt blue eyes sharply contrast his full head of salt and pepper hair; his face covered in an all white beard and mustache still featured a square jaw line. The older man wore a form fitting lycra shirt and shorts, which showed his powerful pecs and tapered to a flat belly; clearly the man works out at least daily to keep in that good form.
I couldn't help but smile, and offered, "No sir! Cheryl is her own little dynamo."
"You're telling me?" he quipped. "She has the energy and drive that I can barely keep up with!" Cheryl stood blushing, Barb's arm around her shoulder, and Cheryl's cupping Barb's skinny waist. It was then that I noticed how tall Barb was. She was at least as tall as my 5'11" frame. She looked even taller with those heels.
Phil took our overnight case along with the one they had packed. "Nice to meet you, Allan." Phil is only a few inches taller than me, but probably weighs less than I. As he leaned into load the bag into the cart, he flexed his muscular calves and thighs. Evan at 60, Cheryl's boss is clearly in better shape than I am at 47.
Barb left Cheryl to reach out for a hug from me. As she drew me into her, Barb's heavy breasts pressed into my chest. Phil was embracing Cheryl in the same way, drawing her petite body into him, her head nuzzled into his chest. Did his hands actually caress Cheryl's backside? Or was it just her lower back? His movements were so smooth, I couldn't be sure. Barb's sweet perfume wafted, and with the sight of my wife in a long embrace with her employer, I felt my cock nudge Barb's groin.
Barb said softly into my ear, "I think we will have a wonderful time together." Phil released his hold on Cheryl just as Barb stepped back from me, all of us sharing smiles.
With our introductions complete, Phil led us to the waiting golf cart, instead of the convertible, which seemed a bit odd, as it would be a long way to the beach from this hilltop property. Barb said, "Cheryl, sit up front with Phil. I'll sit in the back with Allan.
I got in the back seat on the driver's side, just as Barb stepped up to the floorboard. With one foot on the pavement and the other inches from me in the cart, Barb's short, tight skirt exposed her thigh all the way to the shadowy recess of her pussy. Either her panties matched her skin color, or Barb was travelling commando. In a flash, she was beside me, smiling wide, and chatting about the weather while Phil and Cheryl sat up front.
Phil pushed on the pedal and we quietly proceeded around to the back of their house, where I realized the cart wasn't our ride to the beach. A few hundred feet away sat a sparkling new twin-engine plane, on an asphalt tarmac.
Phil called, over his shoulder, "What do you think of her?" pointing to the plane. I turned to Phil and said, "Geez, Phil, she is a beauty! And you've even got your name on it." I was referring to the large print near the tail that read C-FALK.
"No, that is the registration and call sign of the airplane."
"Oh," I offered, "I thought that planes in America had an N at the beginning of the number." A friend who flies had told me that a long time ago.
We had arrived at that point, and were stepping out of the cart. Phil grasped my shoulder with a firm hand, and replied, "Allan, you can buy anything with enough money in the right pockets. I could have had FUCK instead of FALK, for a registration if I wanted. But, I did buy it in Montreal, so that is why the first letter is a C - as in Canadian."
He laughed and retrieved our luggage before opening a small door on the outside of the plane to store the bags. Then he pulled down the large door, which hinged to become the stairs to get inside.
