I answered the phone at my office late one Thursday afternoon, fully expecting to hear someone wanting to discuss business. Instead, I heard a giggle and a sexy, feminine voice ask, "What are you doing?"
Instantly, I brightened. It was the very familiar voice of my loving wife of 10 years. I worked in our suburban hometown, and she worked in the personnel office of a large hospital in the neighboring city. Hearing her voice brought a refreshing change of pace to my hectic work day. It also reminded me how much I loved this amazing woman, who could be so business-like in her world of corporate administration and a sexual animal in the bedroom.
After a minute or two of idle chatter, she revealed the purpose of her call.
"Are you working late tonight?" she asked.
"No, what's up?" I replied, knowing already what she probably had in mind.
"T.A. wants me to have a drink with him," she ventured, half as a statement and half as a question.
Dual emotions ran through me, ending with a stirring in my groin and a spot of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. "What did you tell him?" I answered.
Rachel was referring to a young executive in her company. She called him by his initials, T.A., to differentiate between him and another guy with the same first name.
"I told him I'd see if the coast was clear," she answered. "Would you mind?"
"No, but you'll have to promise to make love to me when you get home."
"I always do, don't I? Are you sure you don't mind??? Just say so, and I'll tell him I can't make it tonight," she said.
I had been agreeing to allowing Rachel to have occasional "mini-dates" with a couple of executives at the hospital. On each of her other dates, she stayed out much later than would be expected for a "drink," but when she finally eased my anxiety and returned home, she came in hot and bothered, ready to fuck.
After she checked on the kids and removed her contact lenses, I'd embrace her and kiss her deeply, drinking in her perfume and the lingering barroom cigarette smoke in her hair. I'd taste her warm mouth and tongue and the whiskey on her breath.
Highly intoxicating stimuli, believe me.
Still kissing her, I would begin unbuttoning her clothes, sometimes finding a few buttons of her blouse already undone. I'd let her skirt and blouse fall to the floor, then unhook her bra, if someone else hadn't beaten me to it, and lift the cups away from her high, firm breasts. Cupping them and kneading them gently, I always trembled with desire, my erection poking through my boxer shorts.
Stripped to her string bikini panties, she would let me lead her to the bed, where we would fall into each others arms for more deep-tongue kissing.
With my anticipation building, I'd seek the moment of truth. Hooking my thumbs in the waist band of her panties, I'd guide them down her smooth legs as she lifted her hips, sliding the tiny piece of fabric down until at least one foot was free.
Instantly, her legs would open, and I would kiss my way down to her neatly trimmed bush, pausing for a moment to heighten the anticipation, then running my tongue along her slit, marveling at the wetness oozing from between her hot cunt lips.
Then I would take the plunge, thrusting my tongue and as far as I could go into her steaming pussy and making lapping sounds as her juices flooded out.
Each time that she returned from the earlier dates, I'd find her extremely wet with her own juices but not with her date's cum.
The only taste in her pussy was that of the sweet nectar of my woman at full arousal.
Part of me was relieved that she had held back from full intimacy with her would-be lovers, but part of me felt a twinge of disappointment because I half-way expected to find her pussy juices mixed with another guy's cream.
But, having found that she had again withheld her most intimate favors from her suitors, what was I to do? I'd shift to high gear, reaching my tongue deep into her vagina, running it up between her soaked cunt's silky lips to lift and encircle her clitoris, before driving back down and repeating the cycle of thrusting, lifting and revolving around her swollen button.
Sometimes she would surrender to the moment and allow me to continue working my tongue's magic until she cried out in orgasmic delight, but often she'd call for my cock.
"Please come in me now; I'm very close," she'd say.
At that, I would raise my body over her, and she would open her legs wide to receive me. My cock would plunge into her well-lubricated cunt, and I would adjust my position for maximum effect.
Usually, I needed only a few good strokes to push her over the edge.
"I'mmmm cccc u mmmm i nnnn gggg," she would moan as the waves washed over her, while I tried to hold my own flood in check to prolong the pleasure of fucking this incredibly sexy 30-something.
But once her own desire was quenched somewhat, I'd turn to my own pleasure, questioning her about the highlights of her date: where they had met, how much did they drink before the heavy kissing began, where did they go to make out, what did he do with her breasts, did he finger her pussy and did she stroke his cock?
Sometimes we would fuck for what seemed like hours, but often she would cause me to lose control and shoot my load by relating some especially intimate detail or explaining some technique that her would-be lover employed.
Once, when I moved my hands under her bra's cups and lifted her breasts to my wandering mouth, she exclaimed, "Ooooh, be careful. They're really tender..."
Later, as I pounded her pussy with all that I had in me, she explained that T.A. had kneaded her firm breasts rather forcefully, tweaked, twirled and pulled her nipples with his fingers and sucked on every inch of her ripe globes while she moaned in ecstasy.
"I think he may have left bruises," she whispered.
"If he did, will you be mad?"
"No, no, no. It hurts sooo good," she replied.
"Will you tell him he bruised you?"
"Yeah, and if I get the chance, I'll give him a quick peek. I'll tell him I'm having to keep them hidden from you," she said.
I shot my cum into her throbbing cunt with that little exchange.
Part of the arrangement that gave her the freedom to flirt with other men was that she wouldn't tell them I knew what was going on and that she was sharing the intimate details with her horny husband. This was our sexual secret that removed the anxiety of "getting caught" on her part, but still made the guy act with discretion.
My reward was validating my belief that my wife was a beautiful, sexy and desirable woman who still enjoyed sexual adventures. It goes without saying, too, that I enjoyed the benefits of the unbridled passion the trysts unlocked in her.
On that particular Thursday, I don't know that any of those thoughts passed through my head, but I was on pins and needles for the next hour and a half as I tried to do my work without exposing my nervousness. In a regular cycle, the question, "Will she?" kept surfacing in my mind, the question being whether or not T.A. would get the full benefits of a clandestine meeting with Rachel.
Would they go to a motel to consummate their affair, and would I have my fantasy come true by sliding my tongue into her cum-filled pussy? Or would T.A. go back to his wife all hot and bothered and unsatisfied?
As the clock rolled around slowly to quitting time, I stopped thinking about my sexy woman for a moment or two to absorb the visual essence of K, a 20-something female coworker, actually a subordinate, 15 years my junior.
When I hired K, she had the job the minute she walked through the door. Her smile lit up the room, and her dress was cut low enough to give me a hint of her gorgeous, full breasts. I was immediately enthralled.
I stared at her for a few seconds every now and then, wondering how her petite, full-figured body would respond to me if I were lucky enough to fuck her. But in all the time she worked with me, I never made a serious advance because, for one, I did not want to be accused of sexual harassment and, two, I don't think my ego would have stood a rejection from her.
As it turned out, I learned after she left for another job that she was crazy about me, and we had a torrid, 18-month affair, but that's a story for another day.
Finally, the time came for me to make the short drive home, where I was resigned to having to wait for at least several anxious hours for her return. Maybe the kids would present me with a challenging homework question to keep my mind off what my sexpot wife was doing 20 miles away.
But I was surprised when I turned into our driveway and saw Rachel's car parked outside our home. I thought by now she would have been meeting T.A. at the little no-tell bar they usually visited.
Immediately, I thought of two possibilities: T.A. had to cancel for some reason and she came on home. Or, maybe they had met for a drink, but eventually went their separate ways after deciding it wasn't dark enough to hold a car-seat kissing session.
I walked into the house, said hello to the kids, then went into our bedroom to find her fussing with her hair at the lavatory and mirror in the bedroom's adjoining bath. She was wearing her favorite bathrobe and obviously had just stepped out of the shower.
I tiptoed back to the bedroom door and quietly closed it. Moving back into the lavatory nook, I stepped between the counter and Rachel, slipping my hands into her robe and pulling it open. My hands moved over her skin, still warm from the shower, while my eyes feasted on her pert breasts with their slightly swollen nipples.
I glanced down, and from my angle of observation, could see that she had trimmed her pussy hair to a small, neat triangular shadow. Nothing unusual there; keeping her dark bush neatly trimmed had been a part of her routine since the day, not long after we became a couple, that I showed her pictures of centerfold girls and how sexy their trimmed or shaved pussies looked.
I slipped by hands behind her back and cupped her firm, ripe ass in my hands, lifting her slightly and pulling her forward to meet my kiss.
Our lips met, tentatively, then opened wide in a passionate kiss that had our tongues swirling around each other's and probing deeply.
"Do you realize how sexy you feel in my arms right now?" I whispered as my hands tenderly squeezed the cheeks of her ass.
"You're pretty sexy yourself," she answered, opening her mouth to favor me with another warm, wet kiss.
"I didn't expect to find you here. I thought you'd be flirting with T.A. by now," I told her.
"He wants me to meet him at 8 o'clock, so I decided to come home, fix dinner for you and the kids, take a bath and do my hair," she explained.
"So, it's a real date this time, huh?"
She smiled. "I guess you could say that."
"Is he going to finally get lucky tonight?" I asked.
