Should you smile at someone when they see you naked? No wait. Should you smile at your sister-in-law when she sees you naked? And when your wife is showering ten feet away? Fuck it. I did. I don't know why. It happened.
Ann was staring at me from the hallway just outside the guest bathroom, wrapped in a towel, wet hair and looking, frankly, spectacular. I was standing beside our bed, half shaven, without a shred of clothing on, and flush from one of the most powerful sexual experiences my wife had ever given me.
What do you do? Do you scream and run off? Do you wave and say, "Hi!"? Do you frown and yell, "Dammit!"? Do you dance and start strumming your dick like a guitar? I didn't know. So, I smiled. She looked good, and I smiled. I don't know how in the hell I looked, but she looked fresh, clean, and sexy in that towel. So, I smiled.
She smiled back and said, "Sorry." Then, she turned away toward her bedroom. I walked back toward our bathroom sink, and I'm not sure about this. Could be I invented it, but I think she glanced back one time. Out of my peripheral vision, maybe.
I finished shaving, thinking quite a bit about Jen and that in-fucking-sane blowjob I had just received. And the way she had finished me! The double-fisted, behind-the-head jerk off? Jen! My lovely, but somewhat sexually uptight wife. The whole experience stunned me. It was so unlike her. She attacked me like a compulsive, and she hadn't given a shit, really, about any part of my body other than my cock.
Jen in bed is always my equal. It's almost always give and take. But, this? I couldn't explain it. She's sucked me plenty of times before, but never like that. I can't remember ever getting a blowjob like that. Was it even a blowjob? It felt more like...I don't know, like my dick was the milky tit and she was the hungry child. She just latched on and swallowed away. It was Jen, but it wasn't. Was she taking some course?
I stared into the mirror, perplexed, and then a sound from the shower stole my attention. I waited for it again, and while listening, it occurred to me that, dang, Jen had been in there a long time. Unusual for her.
Then I heard it again. A soft groan. A sex whimper. Lovely in it's sheer femininity.
Was she getting herself off? What the fuck was going on with my wife?
***
I mentioned before that Ann's arrival at our house somehow triggered a significant wave of sexual energy between Jen and I. The pump-suction blowjob was one of the first events. But, I can't help telling about another one. And this one? Fuck. I'm afraid it's going to make me look even more like some kind of creepy douche, but whatever.
It was a Friday night. Usually, Jen and I work out on Friday nights. We can always get the equipment and machines we want. We've got the run of the place. So we came home, sweaty and invigorated. Ann's car was in the driveway, and it was about 9:30. We planned to shower up, watch a movie, and hang.
We headed inside and the place was strangely quiet. The lights were all off. We turned them on and saw Ann's purse tipped over on the kitchen table, and her shoes were on the floor as if she'd just kicked them off when she walked in the door.
"Ann," Jen sighed.
"She feels at home, right? That's a good thing."
"Not if it means I've got to pick up her shit."
"I got it; you go shower," I told Jen, and she left upstairs.
I picked up the purse and saw a pack of smokes inside. Ann and Jen only smoke when they drink. She must have hit a bar with some work pals. Friday night, right? I snatched up her shoes and headed upstairs, turning at the top to go towards the guest bedrooms. Ann's door was open; the lights were out. I heard Jen's shower running, and I stepped softly across the threshold of Ann's room.
I smelled alcohol and perfume in the room. Moonlight spread across it, giving everything this blue-gray shade. Clothes were ditched on the floor, and Ann was dead asleep, snoring hard. Not unlike Jen's, those snores. But, here's the thing: her comforter and sheets had been kicked off and lay tangled up at the foot of the bed. Must have gotten hot. So, Ann was laying there in just a tank top and panties, kind of on her side, kind of on her tummy. Her arms were pinned under the pillow where her head lay. She had one leg pulled up toward her tummy, the other fully extended.
The view of her tiny ass, barely covered by black lace panties, was in-fucking-sane. I couldn't move. Her legs tapered and swelled in the sexiest places. The calves were thin and strong, and the thighs fit and meaty soft. Her lower half was incredible, but it's that booty, that compact booty. The thing just popped. Small, but totally, totally there. My blood rushed.
I remembered why in the hell I was even in there, so I placed her purse on the dresser and her shoes on the floor by her closet. Then I turned around to get another pull of that fucking ass. The second look didn't happen, my eyes stopped short—at the nightstand.
The blue vibrator—the one I had seen years before when I snooped—was sitting there under her lamp. And here's where I'm going to be too honest, and you're going to think me a psycho, but whatever.