My wife emerged from the bathroom, pink, glowing and freshly shaven, and I couldn't keep my hands off her. Gently she fended me away, laughing.
'Now then, you'll make me late. And I'll have to shower again. Anyway, you need to conserve your energies.'
I consoled myself with watching while she dressed in matching blue bra and panties, a loose blouse and a flimsy skirt that swirled around her thighs. My wife is in her forties but still sexier than most women half her age. Curly blonde hair, a winning smile, a curvaceous body and a delight in sex -- what more could a man want? What more indeed ...
She added some things to her handbag and I carried her suitcase to the car, gave her a long passionate hug and kiss and waved her off down the road. Then I went inside to make myself and the house presentable in anticipation of my visitor, who was due to arrive in a few hours. I was excited and a little nervous -- although my wife always chose well and had never disappointed me, there was always a nagging fear that this time things would go wrong, we wouldn't hit it off, there would be no chemistry.
I was looking out of the window when the car drew up. A woman got out and went to the boot to get her bag. I could only see her back view but what I saw looked good -- a slim graceful figure, a little taller than my wife, clad in a white top and denim jeans, both of which fitted her like a second skin; her hair was short and a deep auburn colour which was probably not natural.
The doorbell rang and I was careful not to answer it too promptly, in case she thought I'd been waiting to pounce. The woman stood there with an amused, appraising grin on her pretty face.
'Hi, I'm Pamela, your new Wyfe. I presume you're Phil.'
'Hi Pamela.' I gave her a kiss on the cheek, very formal. Her perfume was very subtle, almost not there. From the front, she looked somewhat older than I expected from her figure - there were lines on her face and neck. 'Come in. Can I help you with your bags?' She had only a small holdall.
'No, this is it. I didn't think I'd need much.' She flashed me that amused grin again.
'Well, good to meet you.' Breaking the ice is always the most awkward bit. 'Did you have a good journey? No trouble finding the place? Would you like tea or coffee?'
Pamela said yes, she had had a trouble-free journey, and would like some coffee. She didn't initiate any other conversation -- I guessed that she too was a little wary. She followed me into the kitchen and I set the filter going.
'Shall I give you a quick tour of the place while the coffee's brewing?'
I showed her the ground floor -- we don't have a large house -- and then followed her pert little bottom up the stairs. However old she is, I thought, she's got a sexy arse. We inspected the bathroom, study, guest bedroom and then, leaving it for last, the master bedroom (with en-suite). Pamela observed everything with that quiet amused smile. She sat on the bed and tested its bounce, then lay back on her elbows. I had already noted that she wasn't wearing a bra and that her small breasts sported fine, pointed nipples.
'Well,' she grinned, 'aren't you going to give your new Wyfe a proper welcome?' She parted her denim-clad legs and I got the message.
Perhaps at this stage I should give some explanation. The arrangement was that Pamela was going to live with me as my Wyfe for the next week, while my own wife went to stay with another man. I had chosen him for her, via a website called (excruciatingly) 'Wyves and Hubs', using a complex set of selection criteria. Likewise, my wife had chosen Pamela to stay with me, knowing my likes and dislikes and finding what she thought was a good match. Some couples like to choose their own partners; we prefer the increased element of surprise when the choice is made for us. As I said, I've never been disappointed. We've been doing it for four years now, one week in four. Some couples go for one week in every two, but you need a lot of stamina for that.
One of my top criteria was an eatable pussy, and I assumed that my wife had chosen a woman who liked to be eaten. I bent forward and unzipped Pamela's jeans and worked them down over her legs, removing her strappy sandals in the process. She wore small lacy black briefs, 'boy-cut' I think the style is called. I eased these off too, and she let her thighs fall open without a trace of modesty. Her pussy was shaven apart from a heart-shaped tuft of auburn hair. Her outer labia were slim and unassuming but her inner lips were like butterfly wings, dark, crinkly and florid, just the sort I like to suck on.
I stood back and took my clothes off, without rush - I think a woman likes to see what she's signed up for. Pamela watched me reveal my body, which is not bad for a man of my age. I'm quite average in the cock department, but what there is was rapidly stiffening and ready for use. Nude now, I knelt between my Wyfe's legs and applied my mouth to her pussy -- the taste was tangy and sweet at the same time. As she felt my tongue part her labia and touch her moist membranes, I heard her give a sigh of contentment.
Although the whole purpose of 'Wyves and Hubs' is sex, some Wyves like to be wooed and tempted for a day or so before getting down to the nitty-gritty. I had laid in a stock of candles and aphrodisiac foodstuffs for such an eventuality, but was pleased to find that Pamela was just as ready for action as I. I licked and sucked and nibbled and probed with a will, and she writhed and bucked her hips and forced her thighs as wide as she could to give me full access to her interior. Her juices flowed freely. I felt her feet massaging the sides of my chest. Her fingers twined in my hair and pulled my head into her core.
Before too long she was thrashing and moaning through her first orgasm. She wasn't a squirter but the tangy juices sluiced down my chin. I backed off to observe her florid, gaping cunt twitching and spasming with the continuation of her climax. Briefly I wondered if my own wife was already being pleasured by her new Hub -- she doesn't take long to get warmed up and can't be bothered to waste time on seduction when hard sex is on offer.
Pamela was making little humping motions which I felt indicated that she wanted more. I applied my mouth to her soaking cunt and taut perineum, and then teased at her neat, dark anal star. It dilated immediately to admit my tongue, which she then nipped gently. This was reassuring -- in my experience, a woman who lets a tongue into her anus will let other things in also, such as fingers or a cock. I fucked her rear entrance with my stiff tongue and she chuckled throatily. My Wyfe was obviously no stranger to the delights of the tradesman's entrance.
I could tell she wanted to cum again, so I knelt up and got her thighs up onto my shoulders, so that only her head and shoulders were still resting on the bed. In that position I could eat her pussy easily and still peer across her pubic tuft to watch her head thrashing from side to side as the orgasms rolled over her. Eventually, when I judged that her response was waning, I released her and let her flop onto the bed. Her stomach muscles were still twitching. I hoped that I had given my new Wyfe an adequate welcome.
The smell of coffee floated up from downstairs, and I followed it, my erect cock leading the way. It would be shame to waste good coffee, and we had all week to fuck. I was pouring out two mugs when Pamela appeared in the doorway. She had taken off her top and was completely nude. Her body, fit though it was, showed some signs of wear and tear -- a few wrinkles here and there, a slight belly. She pushed me gently into a chair and knelt between my legs, in a classic pose. She grasped my cock and took its head gently between her lips, looking up at me with dark eyes. She then commenced the best slow fellation I have ever had -- my own wife included -- pausing every so often to take a sip of coffee, holding me just off the point of no return while she let a drop of pre-cum fall onto her outstretched tongue. Her slender fingers teased at my balls and shaft, monitoring my arousal, with the sort of skill only acquired by decades' experience of cock.
'If I carry on, you'll cum, won't you?' she said with my cock head gripped between two fingers, the amused smile still on her face. I nodded, completely in her thrall.
Pamela stood up and turned round slowly, exhibiting the whole of her body to me. 'Where do you want to cum?' I knew that she was showing me the options: on her face, in her mouth, over her tits, inside her cunt, inside her arse ...
