Setches – Beads & Pearls

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I never really intended any of the sketches to turn into a series... but here we are. Something about the characters is too much fun to let go.

Like the last "Beads & Pearls" installment, this episode follows the same couple getting down during Mardi Gras. It's not necessary to read the others first, but it helps. The relationship is evolving, sexually, and knowing where they're coming from gives a little context to where they're going.

Spoiler alert: the "exhibition" category should tip you off for what to expect, though like the last installment, B&P3 would fit into the "loving wives" and "group sex" categories just as easy. If combining these topics offends you, stop reading now (it's definitely not a revenge story).

If combining these topics excites you, bang on. It definitely gets intense, dangerously over the top in real-world behavior -- but not so unbelievable that it turns into a parody.

Finally, note that this episode is enormous. I almost broke it into two installments on basis of size and category leaning (wink-nudge). Should I break it in half? Is it too much, not enough, or just right? Should I link in coupons for Kleenex? Leave a note and vote!

Thanks,

Wilson

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I was hung over. My skull was buzzing and my stomach wasn't quite right. It wasn't the drinks -- it was the sex. Last night, Jessica and I had become swingers. Now the adrenaline was gone and I didn't know what to do with all the experiences still smoking in my soul.

Jess was already up, brushing her teeth for the umpteenth time this morning. Was it the two rules? I pushed myself out of bed and staggered to the suite bathroom. My wife was naked, bent over the sink, her mouth frothy but fresh.

"How are you?"

She stopped brushing but she didn't answer right away.

"You okay?"

She rinsed one last time and leaned against the counter with both arms. Kinda looked like she was about to be frisked. Naked. I'd bet there was a movie like that somewhere. But this was my wife.

"Nick... what did we do last night?"

"Well, let's see..." I was getting excited and sick at the same time. "...We had a few drinks, you flashed a couple guys in a tuxedo shop and... you allegedly blew one."

She looked down, her expression guilty. "Do you think they had a security camera?"

"No clue." She was shaking just a little bit. "Why? Running for office?"

"You don't seem worried."

Sure I was worried, about a million things, but with the wife on the verge of breakdown, it was my job to stay calm. "It's Mardi Gras. It is what it is."

"What about the taxicab?"

"I looked. He didn't have a camera."

Jess laughed despite herself, then choked it back. "There was no 'alleged' in the taxi."

"No. No 'alleged'." It was only "alleged" in the tux shop because I didn't see it. The taxi, though... I remember Jess locking eyes with me as she wrapped her lips around

another guy's dick

. I watched my wife take pleasure from giving pleasure. A minute later, as she gave head to another man, I gave her slutty turn 8 inches of personal validation. "We did a lot last night."

Jess nodded and swallowed hard. She gripped the toothbrush and looked over her shoulder at me. "We said a lot last night..."

"Yeah..." My wife usually role-played a slut in our little games and our dirty talk was always a turn-on. Last night, we meant it for real and it didn't seem like a bad thing. "...But now the sun is up and the party's over."

Jess nodded. "I need to know: are we still okay?"

"I don't know if I'm okay." I pointed at her worn-out toothbrush. "Looks like you've got issues, too. But us...?

We

are okay. We're in this together."

Her shoulders relaxed and a smile broke though. She held up the toothbrush like it was a torch. "I remember the two rules!"

I nodded approvingly. It felt like there was so much more, so much we needed to talk over, so many dangers to avoid -- but I was overwhelmed. At least the two rules were easy. Maybe I would call them Jessica's Easy Rules (for when Jessica was easy). One, she doesn't kiss me with cum on her breath. Two, I don't eat cream pies. "Follow the rules for marital bliss."

She tossed the brush onto the counter, stepped in and kissed me like I'd never been kissed. I kissed her back, running my lips down her delicate neck. I caressed my hands down to cup her boobs, and the cup runneth over. I slid a hand over her firm ass and pulled her closer, close enough for her to feel my hard-on grow against her belly.

My trophy wife was now my hot wife.

She's

my

wife. No, she's my

wife.

Is she really a slut?

Yesterday, Jess blew three guys (one of them, her husband).

She's a slut

. Our private kink had escaped into the real world. Were we really ready for this? Last night, I swear I was ready to watch the cabbie give her a spin.

Okay, that was just stupid.

Jess slipped her hand into the waistband of my shorts. She gave me a squeeze and I felt like iron. She kissed my neck and whispered into my ear. "What are you thinking about?"

"My slut wife."

She slid to her knees, tugging my waistband on the way down. She moaned when my cock popped free. "Your slut wife that loves you." She enveloped the head with her wet warmth, mouthing it until I was on the edge of coming. She pulled her lips just far back enough to ask: "Do you love your slut wife?"

I was so hard I couldn't speak. She started sucking again, swirling her tongue around the head as she waited for the answer. When I could breathe: "More than ever. Does my wife love being a slut?"

Jess nodded -- sucking hard as she did. She

really

loved it.

I was suddenly lightheaded, a rush of nerves and excitement. What did that mean? All I knew was that all the butterflies in my stomach were flying toward my dick.

She cupped her tits, offering them to me, her nipples peeking between fingers. Her lips brushed my cock as she whispered: "Do you still want to see me groped?"

Whoa

. That was a little fantasy from our first night here, after a night of her flashing the city. It was nothing, dirty talk during a quickie in an alley alcove.

"I'd definitely like to see you get some more beads..."

But groped in public...? By strangers...?

I felt myself harden -- uncomfortably hard -- and I tried to sort out my own reaction. Anonymous groping was the height of in-the-bubble fantasies. It was way over the top but Mardi Gras was making our kinky little fantasies come true. It was something she might do (and I might encourage) if we were drunk and caught in the moment. "Do you want to be groped?"

Jess hummed around my cock, doing magical things with her mouth. It was an answer; a slutty answer. That was all I could take. A second later, my wife wore her first pulse of a pearl necklace.

###

We were back on Boobin' Street and it felt more dangerous than the other night. Maybe because it was Saturday, 3 days to Fat Tuesday, and the crowd was in the zone. Alcohol was flowing in unmarked containers and people in wild-assed costumes were dancing through red lights. Or maybe it was that Jess wore a black tennis skirt and a tight, white sheer shirt over braless boobs. Guys and girls alike were walking into light posts staring at her. Or maybe it was because our fantasy passport had been stamped: we were hitting the streets as official swingers. Yeah, that was probably it.

I was stone cold sober but a little light-headed. There was this weird play between intensity and detachment, like expectation was pushing me to an out-of-body experience. And what did I do? I floated over my wife and looked down her shirt. I looked down a hundred other shirts, too.

Jazz was playing on every corner and even the traffic cops were wearing beads. Jessica hadn't even reached for her shirt and I'd already been titillated a dozen times. I wanted to reach out and touch. I wanted to see Jess reach out and touch. I wanted to see someone reach out and touch Jess. Somebody had to reach out to touch somebody, goddammit!

Boobs never failed to fascinate. There were big ones and small, round, pointy, full, flat, floppy, firm, beautiful and...

beautiful

. Sorry, there was no such thing as an ugly boob. I used to think so, but in a crowd, when a woman you've never seen before lifts her shirt and whoops it up for sheer joy, shape didn't matter: she had beautiful boobs.

I was waiting for Jess to add her own life to the party but it hadn't happened yet. It was a cool night but it wasn't chilly, so I wasn't sure why she hadn't flashed her headlights. Cold feet was probably the wrong metaphor but I don't think it had much to do with the temperature. She just seemed to be hanging back.

Maybe it was quality: we'd started satisfied. I had my orgasm and I gave one right back before we left. There was something kinky about going down on her while cum dried on her face -- though it was mine and both of The Rules were still safely intact.

Maybe it was quantity: there was so much bared breast, she might've felt she'd be lost in the crowd. Couldn't happen, I thought to myself, she had some of the best breasts in the city -- but competition can do crazy things to self-confidence.

We walked for half an hour, listened to street musicians and traded notes on New Orleans architecture. It felt like we were halfway to the Anne Rice house, and while I wanted to see it, I didn't want to see it tonight. I grabbed my wife's hips and steered her toward a crowded saloon. This situation called for alcohol.

I thought about using Jess as my human bumper but I don't think she was ready for it. Instead, I grabbed her hand and pulled her behind me. I'm not a huge guy but I'm big enough to clear a channel through a crowd and that's just what I did. We made it past a couple of overwhelmed bouncers and into a crush of drunken revelers.

Inside, it was steamy warm, discreetly dark and packed way past the fire occupancy limit. I parked my wife on a wall-side stool and waded through a hundred people toward the bar. The music was piped in but it was Louis Armstrong crooning

What a Wonderful World

. That alone would make Jessica smile.

I grabbed the two biggest margaritas they could make and headed back to Jess, though trying not to spill sent me a little off course. I made it to the far wall but I was still 20 feet and 30 people away. Jess saw me and nodded at the margarita... and somehow, that stopped me in my tracks. I matched her, frown for frown; then pointed at her neckline.

No beads?

She shook her head glumly. I think there was a smile brewing but she held back.

I looked around for a set of beads. There were truckloads but I couldn't grab any while carrying two Jacuzzi-sized drinks. I faked trying to grab one, first with a glass, then my elbow, then my teeth (that almost got me into trouble). When I couldn't do it, I put on a frown worthy of Marcel Marceau. It was getting harder for Jess to hold back a smile.

The crowd was noisy nuts around us, but time had stopped for our little patch. I lit up my face like I'd just gotten the greatest idea of the century. I raised the glass like I was offering it to her (20 feet away), then I rethought and sipped both of them.

Maybe I'll just stand here and drink

. Her jaw dropped -- mock indignation -- and she pouted.

By now, our silent drama had an audience. There were maybe 7 or 8 people looking back and forth, watching to see how this was going to play out. I held up her drink like

I'm sorry, did you want this?

When she nodded, I tilted my head, a little perplexed. I pointed at her with the drink, pointed back at me and shrugged.

Maybe a trade? What could you give me in exchange for this drink? Hmm

...

Jessica took a moment, actually thinking about it, and her eyes got big. Our little crowd realized my desire at the same time and gave shouts of encouragement. Her smile finally broke through, a million watts bright. She rolled her eyes -- a little false modesty -- and she teased her hands over her flat, bare midriff. We traded one last glance and I think that's what she needed to get wild -- a fail-safe confirmation, one last chance for sanity before we flew over the threshold.

The crowd started chanting, growing from eight people to a hundred as she slowly raised her shirt. Her big, beautiful boobs popped free and the whole bar broke into a cheer. Somewhere behind, I heard a bell ring.

The crowd was roaring and she held her shirt up for a good 10 seconds. The more they wanted, the more she wanted to give. She did a 360º dance, giving a little love to every corner. I saw a few flash bulbs go off.

Redefines 'flash bulb' doesn't it?

By the time she lowered her shirt, she must've gotten 50 throws.

One good boob show could've made Mr. T jealous. She was now Mrs. T (for Tits). I was afraid that much plastic would weigh her shirt down. Jess put on string after string as I closed in and she already looked like a tribeswoman from a primitive mall.

I handed her the drink and had to shout to be heard. "Nice beads!"

"Thank you!" It took her two hands to take the margarita. "But I can't wear all of these..."

"Why?"

She leaned but still had to shout back. "Beads are great but I need to save room for a pearl necklace!"

"Whooooa!" "What?" "Helloooo, Nurse!"

Half a dozen folk around us heard that one. If Jess was popular before, she was a rock star now.

Jessica leaned in and nibbled on my ear. Her stage whisper was almost lost in the noise but I still got it. "Thursday night you turned me around..." Her hands were sliding over my crotch. "...Will I get a pearl necklace tonight?"

"Probably several."

"Ooh, feeling energetic?"

The crowd was thick enough that nobody -- or almost nobody -- could see her squeezing my denim-covered dick. She was in a good mood, so it seemed safe to up the ante. "Philanthropic."

Jessica squinted as it sunk in, then her eyes popped wide. She flashed a devious smile. "In a sharing mood?"

"With you on my arm, I'm a rich man."

"Arm?" She laughed and gave me another squeeze.

"Stroke it any more and it's gonna be arms-length."

She gave one last obscene grab, then let go to tilt her margarita.

I shook my head and looked around, sipping my own vat of tequila. There was another bit brassy jazz playing and I was struck by another wonderful thing: Jess wasn't the only looker in the crowd. There was a range of beauty here tonight. A bit more than half were younger, but there were some silver foxes watching from the corners. I could see black, white, Asian and Indian women all laughing and drinking. Shirts were skintight or falling open -- and one girl flashed me when she saw me looking.

Somewhere by the bar, that bell dinged again. Small but perky;

nice

. I smiled and tossed her a necklace. This was turning into a good night.

About halfway into our drinks, one of the nearby guys started heading for the door. He held up a throw as he passed -- a request for a flash. Jess glanced at me and I nodded right back to her. With a big smile, she peeled up her shirt.

Ding!

Her nipples were rock hard and the crowd let out a cheer.

He was going to toss her the beads until she leaned forward with her shirt still up. He was not going to pass an invitation like that. She was still leaning, boobs out and butt pressed against my crotch as he made his way through the crowd. I could hear admiring murmurs float over like

"Oh My God"

and

"Magnificent Rack!"

As the guy put the necklace over her head, her ass slowly gyrated against me. It looked like a coronation but if felt like...

last night in the taxi

.

She gave him a bare-chested hug before he left. After the

Magnificent Rack

pressed against him, he had to make an adjustment before he could actually walk. Jess took it as a victory, pulled her shirt down and leaned back against me. She was basking as the guy disappeared into the crowd. From the front, she looked regal and relaxed, like she was queen of the land. People couldn't see her back; just how hard her ass was pressed against my crotch. She was flexing her butt cheeks, massaging my rock-hard cock through my pants.

I was ready to use my dick as her drink stir. She was only half done with her margarita, but I could see how much the alcohol was kicking in. I, on the other hand, was down to the backwash and felt only a hint of a buzz. It was time to refresh.

She grumped as I gave her the stool back -- she liked leaning against me -- and I kissed her before pushing my way toward the bar. It was a good thing I broke off, her ass on my crotch was making it hard for me to walk.

It must've taken 30 seconds to go 50 feet. It would've been frustrating if it weren't for all the boob brushes I was getting on the way. I felt one ass-grab on me that actually made me turn around. There were four giggling women and none of them fessed up. All I could do was nod and smile as I stepped away. I'll be damned if they didn't grab me again!

The bartender saw me and paused. He glanced toward Jess and broke a big grin. "For you, buddy, it's on the house! Whaddya need?"

I ordered two more of their gigantic Voodoo Margaritas and he was only too happy to oblige. I still left $10 on the bar and sipped as I slipped back into the crush. These drinks were

strong

.

I made it a point to walk back past the gaggle of butt-grabbing girls but kept my concentration on my drinks. With my hands full and my mind seemingly on not spilling, the girls took advantage. All four of them leaned in for an ass-grab. I laughed and gave a little hip gyration and that was all it took for the closest to squeeze the front. We gasped at the same time.

Surprise!

I was still hard from Jess and this cute, raven-haired MILF liked what she felt. I did a hip-thrust into her hand and all four of them burst into a cheer.

Four necklaces were royally placed over my head. Jeezus... I was ready to pop.

As I closed in on Jessica, the guy right in front of me waved some beads toward her. She smiled, a little coy, then noticed me behind him. I could see the switch trip behind her eyes. She gave a tease with the bottom of her shirt, then

whoosh!

Up it went. The crowd burst into another cheer.

The guy admired the view but I could tell he wasn't quite sure how to give a throw to a girl still flashing right in front of him. With her shirt still raised, Jess probably wasn't the safest teacher, either. She glanced at me --

this is for you

-- then stood perfectly straight, chest up, and dipped her head. She snuck a pinky-brush over already hard nipples and the crowd deafened me.

The guy was smart enough to take the cue, stepping up to put the throw over her head. She whispered something and he started arranging the beads between her boobs! It wasn't quite 'public fondling' ...until she arched her back.

Little slut!

The guy took a double handful and the crowd went nuts. Jess wrapped her arms around him and gave a deep, open-mouthed kiss as he groped the

Magnificent Rack

.

It was a girls-gone-wild instant classic. Not

exactly

what I'd pictured the other night, but it was close enough. I was hyper-horny, then went suddenly numb. My dick was still straining denim, but I had that weird detachment again, like I'd just blown a fuse. Watching this hot babe working the crowd right in front of me... it didn't seem real.

She's your wife!

Part of me, not sure what, dropped into a coma. Part of me wanted to haul her into the john and fuck her right there.

The crowd was chanting "Do It! Do It! Do it!" Not sure what "it" was, but if felt like they were ready for a live sex show. Jess broke the off the kiss, still panting, and the guy staggered back. She pulled her shirt down and the screams calmed to civilized applause. As she waved to her fans, the lucky guy disappeared with a big, sheepish smile.