Best Served Warmer - Part 1 free porn video

                     Sequel 2 to "Best Served Cold"

A year had passed since the night I had paid for my infidelity. It was winter again, and the season resurrected ghosts from the time I sat across from Linda and Stephan in the Excelsior hotel bar. Linda and I had walked home through the city streets together in the snow. At the time, I feared it was the end of us, but we had found a new beginning by summer. Early snow flurries teased me with returning memories of that night, along with all the emotions that accompanied them. The first snow seemed to put Linda in a melancholy mood, and I wondered if shadows of our history haunted her as well.

I watched from our bedroom window as the snow fell. It was just after sunset, and the streets were still busy with early holiday shoppers. From eight stories up, the fine, tiny flakes floated and whirled in a deceiving promise the storm might wait until daylight before blanketing the streets and paralyzing traffic. The city had just begun to put up holiday decorations, and the snow sparkled as it danced near the colored lights on its chaotic fall to the ground.

Linda arrived behind me and put her arms around my waist, watching the brunt of winter arrive as well. She gave me little hugs as we stood there together, and finally nuzzled the back of my neck with her nose.

"It seems like yesterday, doesn't it?" she said thoughtfully. "The time passes so quickly."

"Have you seen him?" I asked.

"Now and then. Work stuff. He's the same."

"Lunches with him?"

"Not often. A few weeks ago. More work stuff."

"Do you think about him?"

"I do. You know, now and then."

We stood quietly for a while longer, staring down into the street.

"There is something we need to do, you know?" she continued quietly.

"Lot's to do," I answered, then sighed.

"One thing. Tonight? A place where I can get a strawberry daiquiri?"

"This isn't a repeat performance with him, is it?"

"Nope." She nuzzled me again, trailing her fingers across my cheek before she made her way to the bathroom.

                                               ~*~

The walk to the Excelsior seemed to take longer than I remembered, maybe due to my dread of what had happened there. The wind hadn't picked up yet, and the snow was light and fluffy. Linda took my arm, but we didn't talk on the way. I noticed the snow speckling her hair and remembered my thoughts, now a year old. 'Like brilliant rhinestones on black velvet'. She'd glance at me and smile, then turn her sight back toward our destination. I saw the Excelsior as a well of anxiety, but she was celebrating our new beginning. Strange how we pictured the place existing in two different worlds.

The hotel bar was busy, and they were still serving food. A waiter met us at the entrance and led us to a table at the far side of the room. Linda tugged on his arm and stopped him.

"Wait. Could we have the booth, over there, in the corner?"

He left us menus and took our drink order before rushing away.

"It's the same one, isn't it?" I asked. "Where we sat before?"

"It is," she answered, smiling at me.

She shrugged her coat off her shoulders. Under it was the same flowered dress.

"The dress too?" Now I had to smile.

"Don't you like it? Maybe you'd like me to make some changes? Maybe with the way it fits? Or something else?"

The waiter returned with our drinks, but before he rushed away again, she stopped him.

"Excuse me. Does a 'Chuck' still work here? Cute guy, in his twenties, very friendly..."

"Nope - don't know him," he said quickly, without even looking at her. "Do you want to order from the menu?"

"We're fine for now," she told him. "Oh - but could you bring us another round of drinks? That way we won't bother you again for a while."

He raced off to the bar again.

Linda sipped her daiquiri, and I downed half my shot of scotch in one gulp. I had ordered it neat, and someone had put ice in my twelve-year-old single malt.

"So, what do you think? About my dress? Any changes you'd like to make?" The corners of her mouth turned up a little. Her eyes were wide and liquid.

"As a matter of fact, there are," I answered, smiling. I'd like you to put your panties here, on the table, right beside my drink. Can you do that, Linda?" That got a wider smile from her. I could play this game. I knew all about the rules - there weren't any.

"I certainly can, for a big, handsome guy like you. I'll do anything you want. I'll be right back."

I grabbed her wrist before she could slide across the seat.

"No, no. I want you to take them off here, at the table. What color are they?"

She blushed, then glanced quickly around the room.

"Um, they're black."

"What do they look like. Describe them."

"Lacy. Very thin. And tiny. Very tiny."

"Are they thin enough to see your pussy through them?"

She cleared her throat, looked around the room again, and finally answered.

"Um-hmm. My husband likes them that way."

"Good. Let's see them."

She slid her hand under the dress near the wall, felt around for the scrap of lace at her hip, then, looking carefully out over the room, drew the panties down her legs and over her shoes. I was impressed. Where had she learned to do that? It was almost as if she had practiced it.

She left them on the seat beside her.

I tapped a spot on the table, beside my glass. "Not there, here."

I thought I was challenging her, but she surprised me when they fell from her open fist onto the table. They were black, just like she had said, and they were now a slowly expanding ball of wadded lace, resting in front of me by my drink.

"And the rest?" I asked.

"The rest?"

"Yes. The rest of what you have on under that pretty dress."

For the first time that night, Linda was at a loss for words. She looked down at the menu and was silent for a full minute before she spoke.

"But you can't expect me to - I mean, not here in the open?"

"How difficult can it be? Tell me what's under your dress."

She glanced around again, then leaned toward me and lowered her voice.

"My bra. Nothing else. I'll take it off for you, but not here. Over there, in the ladies room?"

I fingered the side of my glass for a few seconds, then downed the rest of my scotch. She was waiting for an answer, still pressed forward over the table, eyes wide with excitement.

The waiter brought our second round of drinks. I lowered my eyes to the second glass, again with two large ice cubes, so I stopped him to complain. "It's top-shelf scotch. I've ordered it 'neat' twice now. Can you fix it?" He scooped up the glass without a word and hurried away once again. It wasn't the service we remembered.

Linda raised her eyebrows. She looked surprised. "Well, my husband certainly wouldn't have been that forward. I'm impressed."

I stared for a long time at the buttons down the front of her dress. It narrowed to a snug fit just below her bust, and I could see the buttons part here and there to reveal bare skin underneath. "About your dress, Linda, and what's under it. Before you run off to the ladies' room, undo the buttons. I want to see." I doubted she'd refuse. She had done the same for Stephan in that very same booth, one year ago. She didn't disappoint me.

"Um, OK. But if my husband knew what I'm doing, well, he'd be very upset."

"Your husband isn't here. Now, the buttons?"

She began to undo them, slowly, running her fingers lightly over each one before slipping it through the tight slit beneath it. I wondered how far she'd go.

"Is, this what you want?" she asked, with a sober stare.

She had stopped after the third one, and the dress had burst open to show me the inner curves of her breasts and the edges of the black bra through the opening. I remembered that she had gone much further for Stephan, but the bar had been almost empty by that hour, and I knew she had been swept away by anger, and her fantasies of submission to him.

"Good. I see it matches your panties. Did your husband buy the bra and panties for you?"

"He didn't. I bought them so he'd fuck me," she whispered.

"Doesn't he fuck you?"

"Of course. But not always the way I want it."

Her smile grew slowly after she said it. It became wider and more lascivious by the second. It was my turn to be impressed.

I nodded toward the restrooms.

"Don't button up. Just bring me your bra."

"I'll be right back," she said. She was still smiling as she left our booth.

I watched her cross the room, circle the bar, then disappear. Linda always turned a few heads in public, even when I was there beside her. Had I been there at the bar and saw her pass by, I would have been occupied with my own fantasies. She was a walking contradiction - at first glance, a refined, beautiful woman out for a cocktail with her husband; but after a longer look at the front of her dress, the way she moved with such a purposeful, confident stride, and the fuck-me look in her eyes, she'd more than pass for an entirely corruptible wife, easily enticed by the right man with a cock she found irresistible.

But Linda had always been able to appear to be one thing to men, and then an instant later, chameleon-like, become whatever she decided they wanted her to be. She had been a late bloomer, eventually evolving into a beguiling siren in her late twenties. Even now she could reach into her past and revive the innocent-but-seductive woman-child I knew when we met. Boys loved it then, and men salivated over it later. She knew it, and I was sure she used it, sometimes to flirt with an attractive man, and other times just to make me crazy. It worked, for both purposes.

More than few men looked as she paraded her breasts by them, but surprisingly, no one hit on her. I wondered if they would have if she had opened another button or two, and if she would have been daring enough to flirt, or maybe sit and have a drink with them, had they offered.

She returned with the same buttons opened, no more determined to reach our booth than the time than it took to leave it. Once in the booth across from me again, I could see the bra was gone. Men at the bar must have enjoyed a surprisingly generous view of her breasts when she passed them. They were pushed upward and exposed where the dress parted, nearly revealing each pouting nipple. Still, she didn't seem at all embarrassed - in fact, she looked electrified. There was something in her that wanted them to see her like that. She needed to be seen as a wife offering her body to a stranger - a lust-driven, desirable woman any man in that bar would fuck if she gave them the slightest sign she wanted it.  She wasn't about to lose our little game, but I was more and more surprised to see how far she'd go to win it.

"I don't see it," I said.

"I did what you asked. I took it off. See?" She pried the opening wider to show me.

"Where is it, then?"

"Oh. It's - here." She put her purse on the table, opened it, then turned it toward me so I could see inside.

I tapped the table with my finger again, beside the panties. "Here... I'd like to see it."

She hesitated and looked down at her lap. She could play "coy" just as easily as she could the lascivious, neglected wife. It was exciting to see her fall into the role so easily. Still, I tried to concentrate, to stay in character. The part she played so well promised so much more.

She returned her purse to her side, carefully placed the bra on the table, and slid it slowly across to me with one finger.

I moved it closer, next to her surrendered panties, fingered the lace for a while, then looked back up at her open dress.

"Show me more," I suggested.

"More? Here? What if someone I know comes in and sees me? What if someone tells my husband?"

"Our little 'dates' have never bothered you before," I reminded her.

"You know what I mean. What if someone sees my dress open and my underwear out on the table? You've never asked for any of this before, not in public. How would I ever explain this to David?"

"Why do you do it, then? Why keep coming back for more if you're so afraid?"

"You know why. I've told you why." She looked away, pretending to be too embarrassed to answer. "Sometimes my husband, he, um, doesn't always fuck me the way I want it. Need it, I mean."

"And what way is that, Linda?"

She leaned closer, straining over the table toward me, answering in the loudest whisper she could manage without being overheard. "The way you make me crawl and beg for it! The way you tie me and torture me before you let me cum! David's a decent man, not a monster like you. Letting a monster fuck me helps me live with a little of that same monster that's a part of me. But I can only live without it for so long before..." She stopped suddenly and turned her face away from me, staring vacantly out into the room while she continued, "...before I let you use me like you do. Before I get my fix and then go back to having my husband inside me again, the way it should be."

In our mutual competition of words and fantasy brought to life, she had outdone me. For an instant, I could imagine being her dark, portentous, phantom lover, the one who shows her the meaning of, what was it she had said? "Off the scale". I wondered if she was still pretending, or whether possibly her game had taken her to a place she hadn't planned to go. The air was heavy with silence for a while. She wouldn't look at me.

I took a chance to lighten the mood, and I chuckled as I put my hands up in surrender. "You win - I don't think I can take anymore!" I wasn't at all prepared for what might come next if I was wrong. I held my breath and waited to see who the woman sitting in front of me might become.

Suddenly, she was the Linda I knew again. It threw me, twisted me around, and sent a chill of nervous relief through me. I watched her sly smile return as she backed down into her seat.

"You mean you don't want to see this?" She was unfastening another button on the front of her dress. And another, and another, until it was open to her waist. I was stunned. Our booth was mostly hidden from sight, sandwiched in the corner of the room between the wall and a wide, decorative column. Maybe she and 'Stephan' had chosen it in advance back then for that very reason.

"Tell me, how much more do you want?" She waited for my answer while she pulled the front of her dress open, inch by inch. "You know I'm naked under this dress. Do you want me to take it off? I will. Right here. If you make me. If you order me to."

I peered around the column to make sure no one was close by. Both her breasts were completely exposed. She thrust them forward at me, daring me to tell her what to do next.

Once again, I was beaten. "Enough, Linda. I give up! I give up! You win!" I was grinning from ear to ear.

"Really?" she said, rolling her eyes with disappointment. "I'm surprised. That sounds like something my husband would say. Now, are you going to take me back and fuck me, or not?" She gathered the front of her dress together, still unbuttoned, and recovered her bra and panties from my side of the table, unable to hold back a proud grin.

Outside, the snow had become heavy and wet. An inch of white blanketed the sidewalks, and the quarter-sized flakes that landed on our faces and hair vanished in seconds as they melted. Most stores had closed, but we stopped now and then to window shop. I stood by patiently while Linda studied the mannequins in her favorite boutique window as if she was waiting for them to twirl and pose for her.

"Would you like to see me in that when we go out?" she asked.

It was fiery red, with nothing I could make out that would hold it in place over her breasts. I couldn't see how gravity wouldn't take its toll and allow the shimmering material to fall, with embarrassing consequences. It was a blazing streak of red, from bust to floor, with a long, open slit up the front. One of the mannequin's thighs was pushed forward through the slit. Her bare leg was exposed nearly to the hip in a pose that was both elegant and sexy.

"Would you wear that?" I asked, trying to picture her in it.

"Mmmmm - my husband would approve. He likes to show me off."

"And what if it shows you off too much? Wouldn't other men would be all over you?"

"Ahh, but you don't understand." She turned and circled her arms around me, locking her eyes on mine. "I think that's what he likes - watching me flirt, imagining what may come of it."

"And what do you like?" I asked.

"What do I like?" She put her hand between my legs and moved it slowly, up along my thigh to my cock. "I like a man who takes what he wants - girlfriends, fiances, even wives."

She turned her face up into the snow to kiss me. We hadn't kissed like that in weeks. It became a long, deep, probing kiss that lasted for minutes. She pulled my hand inside her coat, then under the dress she had left unbuttoned. I grazed her nipple with the palm of my hand. It was already swollen and hard, and she moaned when I rolled it between my fingers. I explored everywhere I could, her breasts, down her smooth belly, and finally lower, to that soft, yielding flesh just above her pussy that I knew made her wet.

Finally, she broke the kiss, shaken and breathless. "Oh God - we have to stop." When I began to take my hand from her coat, she pulled it back inside and held it tightly against her bare breast. She stared at me so seriously as she recovered. The snow was falling faster, wetting her hair and face, when I noticed a tear on her cheek.

"Don't - we're fine," I whispered.

She wiped the tear away suddenly and quickly, like some annoying pest had landed on her.

She looked up at me again, eyes full of hope, with a crooked smile that told me she tried her best to believe me. "How did I ever find someone like you?" she asked, sniffing back another tear.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just held her there in the snow. I cursed myself for poisoning her trust in me to begin with, but clung to the hope that she'd be able to love me again like she did the day we were married.

Eventually, we both began to shiver in the soaking snow. It hit us both at once, and we began to laugh. She hugged me tighter, and put her lips against my ear.

"Take me home and fuck me?"

                                               ~*~

It was days later, and she hadn't given up trying to persuade me to go with her. I watched as she undressed for bed, and she paused as she slid her panties off, knowing I might give in if she gave me her 'come fuck me' look.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea, Linda. Wouldn't it be awkward?"

Her office party was in two weeks, and spouses were invited. I knew some of the people she worked with, but not that well. She had told me a few of their best customers were invited, as appreciation for their continuing allegiance. Those customers included Michael and a few of his staff, along with groups of two or three other valued clients.

"I wouldn't know what to say to him. It's not that I'm jealous. I think I understand the relationship you two have pretty well. I trust you. But all those other people, the people you work with, your clients - you wouldn't want them to find out how he and I know each other. We might have a lot of explaining to do, and when our stories didn't agree, they'd be suspicious. So many things could be at stake - your company's business, your job, and your reputation. Not to mention what our friends would think if a rumor spread. I can see a hundred ways it could go wrong, and very few that could go right."

I was curious to see how much longer she'd try to convince me. I was sure she knew my concerns were valid, but I could tell she wanted me there in spite of them. It had come up twice in the past two days, and if anything, she became more insistent that she wanted me there beside her.

"Don't you want to show me off in my new dress?"

A month before, the day after our evening walk home in the snow, I bought the red dress she had stopped to admire in the store window. I knew she'd want it for the holidays, so I had given it to her early in case the size wasn't right. She had gone back to exchange it for a size smaller. I was embarrassed by my mistake, but she assured me it was because of the way the dress fit, not my clueless search through her closet to guess the right size. She hadn't modeled it for me. She wanted to surprise me, to let me see her in it for the first time just before she wore it. It had been a long wait.

"I think that dress will show you off all by itself," I assured her. "Do you think Michael will be able to keep his hands off you?" I grinned, and she grinned back.

"If you don't go with me, you'll always wonder," she teased.

"Maybe I'd like that - wondering what he was doing with my sexy wife all night."

"You mean you'd like the story I tell you when I come home. You still fantasize about us, don't you?"

"I do. All the time. Do you?" I asked.

She knelt in front of me and pulled down my zipper, slowly. Her hand went inside, her fingers probing. "I do wonder sometimes...if maybe...he'd still want to fuck me." She ran one finger down my cock, from tip to balls, before zipping me up again. "Do you think maybe he would?" She looked back, smiling coyly over her shoulder as she walked away.

                                               ~*~

"Well, how do I look?"

I had forgotten all about the party until Linda reminded me the day before. She had put her hair up, except for a few spiraling tendrils that hung loosely and invitingly along each side of her face. She posed in the doorway of our bedroom with her knee bent forward and her thigh exposed, just like the mannequin in the window. The slit up the front was even more daring than I remembered, and I wondered whether the dress was appropriate for any occasion even remotely related to her work. She wasn't only beautiful; in the screaming red sheath stretched over her alabaster skin, she was the definition of 'erotic' - or maybe even 'come fuck me'.

"My God. I thought it looked good in the window; you look delicious! I'm glad you were able to get the right size. It shows off every inch of you. Maybe I should be worried about Michael."

"I still wish you would change your mind, David. No one will know. Michael's very well behaved. He won't make a scene, if you don't."

"I know. I'd just feel out of place. And I'd be miserable all night trying to avoid any hint of our connection to him."

She pursed her lips in a quick pout. "I still wish you'd be there with me. I like to show you off too, you know."

"Speaking of 'showing off', what are you wearing under that? It couldn't be much."

She raised the top of the slit a few inches to show me the bright red panties. The color was an exact match. "You like? I picked them up when I returned the other dress. It's like they were made to go together. See? They're so thin there's not even a panty line."

"And," I mused with a grin, "they're nearly transparent." I looked closer. "Did you shave down there?"

"Only a slight trim. They're just so tiny; I was afraid someone might get a glimpse between my legs when I sit. See? I'm nice and neat now." She glanced down between her legs, pleased with the result.

"In case someone sees your pussy," I joked.

"You have such a dirty mind. No one is going to be looking at my pussy tonight. And even if they do catch a quick glance, seeing it in red is better than seeing it with no panties at all, isn't it?"

"I - think that might be a trick question," I suggested.

"I'll leave them off, if you want; maybe give Michael a good long look to refresh his memory?" She peeled them halfway down her thighs and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for me to answer.

"Maybe I'd like to hear about that when you get home," I said, grinning.

"Better be careful what you wish for, Fantasy Boy. You just might get it.

"I'm sure he'll love the dress. Who wouldn't? But I'd rather have him see the panties than what's under them. Unless, you want to show him your neat little 'trim'..."

Her grin faded, and she squinted at me.

"Sometimes I think you're serious about Michael and me actually doing it. Are you?"

I thought for a few seconds before answering. Did I want to confess how I really felt? Would I regret it, or be unburdened by it?

"From what you've told me about him, he's decent guy, not the 'Stephan' I met at the Excelsior last year. It means something that he's been a good friend to you for so long. I give him credit for that, and for not taking advantage of you that night.

"I don't know; I suppose I'm 'less uncomfortable' with the idea now. I don't think I could watch, but you know thinking about you with another man is a fantasy of mine, and I know it would make you happy if it was Michael. I do think about it though, probably more than you know. I can't unsee all the things you've told me about the two of you back in school - about you blowing and fucking him back then, and how you're attracted to him, even now. And to be honest, sometimes I imagine him fucking you when we fuck, and I wonder whether the sounds you make and the things you do with me are the same as they were with him. I even wonder if sometimes you might imagine I'm him in bed while we're fucking - and that always gets me off..."

Linda was motionless, staring with disbelief. "I guess I don't understand what all that means, David," she said quietly. "He's a friend; one who cares about me. And I know he cares about our marriage. We fucked for two years in school, not that often, mostly only when I wanted to. He helped me with papers and homework; he drove me places when I needed to run errands off campus; he took care of me sometimes when I got sick, and took me out to eat on my birthday. I never knew why. I was a little fish in an ocean of gorgeous girls. He always had a girlfriend; I was always an afterthought, one he treated like a sister - well, most of the time."

She paused after pleading her innocence, then thought better of trying to further embellish it.

"Yes, David, if you want the truth, I do still think about what it would be like to have sex with him. But to discover you consider it that seriously, after all we've been through with him - I had no idea, even knowing your little fantasies. I'm stunned."

We were at a standoff, with so much left up in the air.

She crossed the room, hiked the dress up over her thighs, and knelt in front of me where I sat. "I don't want you to worry, David. I don't love him - I never did. I am attracted to him - he's a very sexy man. But it was a college crush back then, and a little sex along with it. It happened over ten years ago. We've only seen each other again for the past two, and only when work requires it, other than the act we put on for you. I just enjoy teasing you about him sometimes. But seriously, you really do think about me having sex with him? That you might be okay with it someday?"

"Where did he touch you that night, in the hotel room? You said you wanted him to touch you," I told her, lost in thoughts of the red dress, rumpled and abandoned on the floor beside the bed where they might fuck.

"He touched my neck, my shoulders, and my breasts, David."  

I could hear relief in her voice, and a hint of arousal.

"And you were naked?"

"I told you all this before. I had to take my dress off to put my bra back on."

"But you left your dress off. You wanted him to look at you first."

"Yes, David. It was so like my fantasy. He was dressed, and I was naked. I was powerless and he was in charge. But it wasn't about submitting to him when we were back in school; those feelings came later, after I met Jordan.

"He watched me get dressed. There wasn't much to put on, just my bra and panties, and the dress I bought for that night."

"You bought the dress for that night? I'd never seen it before."

"I bought it when Michael and I started to rehearse. He gave me ideas of what to buy, and I kept it in the trunk of my car. He told me it should be something you'd believe I would wear, something everyday and innocent. Nothing slutty. It had to have buttons down the front, or something easy to unfasten. He thought the black lace underwear would get to you, that you'd think I'd have planned to wear it under the dress for him, later, in his hotel room. It was funny in a way - after Michael and I rehearsed the first time, I had to take that dress back too for a smaller size. He didn't think the first one was tight enough. It didn't open far enough to show my breasts when I unbuttoned it."

"You grabbed his cock before you left," I reminded her, lost in my fantasy.

"We were hugging, and I could feel his erection against me, and I just put my hand there. I didn't plan it. I didn't touch it. I held it through his pants. I didn't even move my hand."

"And did he like that? Did he want you to do more?"

"I don't know, David. He didn't say anything. He was very hard."

"And big?"

"Big enough. It was through his pants, David."

"But you know, don't you? How big he is. From 'all the things you used to do with it', back in college."

"The one thing I won't do is compare his cock to yours. Any difference doesn't matter. It's a physical thing with him, and love with you. Remember our talk about kinds of men? And kinds of orgasms? Did I mention cocks? No - because it's the kind of man attached to it that gets me off, not the equipment he uses to do it."

"So you won't even give me a hint?" I begged.

"Nope. You'll have to use your fantasies for that. But I can guess what you'll imagine; how I must have loved his 'massively thick, ten-inch cock when he stuck it in me'."

"I, um, don't think about it being quite that big. Just, 'big'. Something you can't bring yourself to let go of through his pants. Something you'd want again if he fucked you with it."

She smiled and shook her head slowly. "It's time for me to go, David. I have to be there early to help with the food and arrange tables and chairs in our conference room. We've hired an amazing caterer. You haven't had dinner. Are you sure you won't come?"

"I'll be fine. There's a pizza in the freezer and beer in the fridge. I'll watch the game tonight and get a little drunk. It'll be fun. Maybe not as much fun as you'll have tonight, but I can wait till tomorrow to hear about that."

"Well, I'm sure I won't have as much to tell you as you imagine. But fantasize away. Just don't jerk off while I'm gone; leave that thing alone. I want to fuck you the second I get in the door. Fantasize about that."

I hadn't seen the bright red heels she was wearing when she left. Maybe she was afraid to show me the price tag. But I didn't care about the price; it was Christmas. She could have anything she wanted.