The greatest Slut Wife ever I so miss her
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The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn free porn video
"What time is it, Jess?"
He cleared his throat. He had just decided on the Egyptian Red lipstick,
and glanced at the dresser mirror before answering. Every step of the
process was exhilarating, but every choice - from what color lipstick to
how he should toss his hair, made him a little anxious. He looked at his
full mouth, the crimson dress he wore, and then at the reflection of the
alarm clock across the room.
"Quarter to six," he answered, looking over at her. Sarah was standing in
front of the bathroom mirror, dabbing perfume between her breasts. Those
huge brown eyes of hers made him feel safe, beautiful? desireable. She
smiled and closed the perfume, and then started singing along to the
radio as she took up the curling iron and started at the ends of her
long, dark hair.
*************************
He didn't know where they were going. It was his birthday, and that
morning Sarah had woken him up with coffee, cigarettes, and a new book he
had been wanting to read. Then, his parents and brother met him for lunch
at the great little Thai restaurant he loved, and he spent the early
afternoon running errands and getting groceries. At four, Sarah showed up
at his apartment with a huge cardboard box. He thought it was going to be
one of those goofy things she liked to do, like wrap a pair of concert
tickets in so many boxes that it looked like she was carrying a
refrigerator. She was short, his little "tiny dancer," and couldn't
actually see over the box she held.
In fact, she had used a ridiculous amount of boxes. But when he got to
the posh Nordstrom's box, he looked over at her and realized that she
wasn't being silly. He opened it slowly, the new-clothes-smell coming off
the tissue paper, and pulled out a brilliant red satin evening gown. It
was strapless, and the skirt was slit from the hem up to the thigh, right
about where a garter would be.
"It's Jessica's birthday, too. Right, Jesse?" she said, her voice low and
secretive.
"Yes," he said warmly. He had put one hand on her jaw, and crumpled her
hair with the other as he pulled her in to kiss her.
He felt her little hands rubbing his sides, with solid strokes like she
was petting the flanks of a horse. Her fingers dipped into the waistband
of his pants, and she slid them back to the top of his buttocks as she
pulled away from the kiss. "You better start getting ready. We're due at
seven," she half whispered.
She went down to her car to get her things, and he stripped carefully,
his heart pounding a little. What first? He went to the top left drawer
of the dresser. THE drawer. No, not the pink and white teddy. No, not the
purple corset. Choices. He felt warm with anticipation. Yes. The red lace
bra and panties. He put them on, deftly fastening the bra in back, and
looked at himself. His long, bright blonde hair and dark green eyes?his
tight nipples glowing through the red lace?Jessica smiled.
He went to the bathroom to shave himself smooth, while Sarah got her
clothes and makeup arranged on his bed. Once done with that, he started
looking through the box of makeup he kept under the sink. Hmmm. Jessica
was a bombshell, plain and simple. He wanted smokey eyes, so he dug
through the box until he found the mascara, some gray eyeshadow, some
black sparkly eyeshadow, eye liner, eye pencil. "Glad she gave me enough
time," he thought. He experimented with the sparkly black eye shadow, but
just ended up looking like he had been punched out. He washed that off,
and tried again, this time carefully angling the eye shadow so it didn't
fill the whole eye socket. But there were still muddy gray patches from
the first try, so he tried to start all over again. By this time, he
looked more goth than bombshell.
"Sarah, how do I get this stuff off?" he called.
"What stuff?"
"Black eye makeup."
"Lotion."
He shook some lotion into his palm, and dabbed it on all the murky spots,
but it didn't seem to do much good. "Will you come help me? I can't seem
to get it right tonight. "
"Yeah. Give me just a second."
She came into the bathroom wearing a long black slip. Her breasts, her
fragile throat, her huge eyes? he swallowed and tried to focus on getting
ready. She seemed completely unaware of her own seductiveness, and he
knew by the look in her eye that she was turned on?. By him. She made him
sit on the edge of the bathtub so his face would be at her eye level, and
got all the smudges off with lotion and toilet paper in just a few
seconds. She hiked up the slip a bit and sat on his lap, a leg on either
side, with all the eye makeup she needed, and got to work framing his
eyes in black eye pencil. He occasionally looked at her, but she was just
staring at her work. He reveled a little bit at the feeling of her knee
against his lace-covered hip. He grazed his hands up her thighs to her
waist, and let his fingers play with her vertebra while she smudged the
eye pencil expertly. While she curled his eyelashes, he saw the pink spot
that was blooming on her chest. And during the mascara, he noticed her
breathing was ragged - like she was forcing herself to breathe more
slowly. And when she was done, and she handed him a mirror, he saw his
eyes, Jessica's eyes, --- the eyes of a vixen.
He thanked her, and she kissed him, and he held her close. She rubbed his
arms, his shoulders, traced her fingers down his bra straps, and then,
ever so lightly, started scratching at his erect nipple through the lace
bra. Still tracing circles and figure eights on his aereolae, she let her
other hand drift down to his panties. She felt the contours of his penis
fighting the lace, straining against it stronger every second. She
scratched lightly at the little crease on the underside of the head, and
he shuddered, pulling her closer. It was then that he realized she hadn't
put on her panties yet. His were low-cut enough that Sarah simply peeled
the front down, which made his penis feel tingly after being confined
like that. He pulled off her slip over her head in one movement, and
started kissing her breasts, biting her nipples softly. She gasped with
pleasure, squeezing his penis in the slow rhythm of intense arousal. He
glided a hand down to her crotch, and found her dripping. She laughed
softly into his shoulder.
"You better take of your panties so I don't ruin them, Jess."
She lifted herself just enough for him to slide them down to his knees.
Then, she grabbed a shampoo bottle and threw it at the bathroom door,
slamming it shut. There was a full-length mirror on the back of the door,
so now he could see himself, his eyes sultry and ravenous, with Sarah on
his lap. He watched as her naked butt rose a little, and then the honey
warm wetness of her pussy kissed just the head of his cock. She rotated
her hips, her pussy swallowing just a little bit more of him on each
rotation, until he was buried as deep in her as he could go. She gripped
his shoulders for balance, and then she rode him, hard, galloping away
towards climax. He held on to her hips, helping her thrust his throbbing
cock deep, deep, deep. It was only a minute or two until she came, full
and loud, rolling her head in ecstasy and arching her back. He felt her
pussy contracting, grasping at his cock, and before she was quite done,
he lifted her and lay her on her back on the floor. "Fuck me, Oh God just
fuck me," she whispered, over and over. And he did. He watched in the
mirror as he, Jessica, pumped and pounded at Sarah's body. He watched his
blonde hair as Sarah reached up and raked her fingers through it,
screaming, "Jess! Jess!" In the mirror, he watched her breasts heaving
as she arched and writhed in a series of orgasms, and his own chest in
its red lace, the muscles of his stomach straining and hoping?. Until the
deluge came. He was gripped by orgasm, rigid with joy, grunting faintly,
as the spurt shot out, pulsing slightly and making Sarah moan happily,
achingly, anchored to his pelvis.
He collapsed into her arms, and she rocked him a little and breathed into
his hair, giddy.
*******************************
Seven o'clock found them in the restaurant at the top of the Space
Needle. Jessica had never looked as fully herself before. From the moment
they stepped out onto the side walk, he had had that resonant, powerful
feeling of beauty. The people they passed as they walked to the car were
somewhat bowled over - here were two spectacular creatures, one short and
dark, all eyes and breasts. The other, about six foot two with her
stilletos, a fiery blonde in a fiery gown with the most piercing eyes and
sensuous legs. Sarah had curled Jesse's daffodill blonde hair, twisting
and piling half of it on top of his head like some ancient Calypso, with
the lower half draping across his bare shoulders. He wore a simple
glittering necklace and a beaded shawl.
Standing in line at the elevator, waiting to go up the Needle, Jesse had
panicked. The elevator doors parted, and there was his dad's boss, Mr.
Sargent, with a few other business men. He and Jesse had only met once or
twice, but Jesse braced himself for the painfully awkward moment when Mr.
Sargent would recognize him. The sleek capitalist strode out of the
elevator in slow motion, prissy and macho at the same time, making a
pompous joke about 401-Ks. He looked straight at Jesse. His middle-aged
eyes jealously stared at her face, looked down at the hourglass curves in
red satin, at the mile long leg revealed through the slit skirt, and back
up at her eyes. He glanced away, smug and oily, and then gave Jesse one
last sidelong eye fuck as he passed by.
The chill of fear gave way to startled euphoria. Sargent hadn't
recognized him. He'd seen Jessica, not Jesse. Jess pointed his chin in
the air, thinking. He felt high with the realization of Jessica. Sarah
had the most mischeivous look on her face. She'd seen what had happened,
and congratulated him with a sly smile. "That was my dad's boss," Jessica
murmured, and Sarah bit her lip to keep from shrieking with laughter.
They rode the elevator with a posse of college girls chattering about
boys and the politics of catching boys, and a suburban couple with their
sixteen year old son, who was trying to be invisible. The poor boy was
overwhelmed by the female majority, and standing between Jesse and his
father, stared at the floor ashamedly. His parents talked about a senile
mother in law while he tried to remain calm.
One of the sorority girls, bemoaning the X-box infatuation of her
boyfriend, gestured wildly, and the high school boy flinched away from
her arm-flinging. Now, Jessica's leg was in his direct line of sight.
Delicate at the knee and ankle. Firm and round at the calf. And long. He
cupped his hands over the fly of his pants, waiting for it to be over.
Jesse remembered exactly how the boy was feeling.
"You go to Ballard?" Jesse asked.
The boy looked up. "Huh?" His voice cracked.
Jessica smiled warmly. "Your sweatshirt. I graduated from Ballard High
School."
"Uh. Yeah, I go there," the boy warbled. He looked down again, was
consumed by the leg of his dreams coming out of Jesse's skirt, and
glanced up at her face furtively, basking in her glorious presence.
Once up at the restauraunt, a silky maitre d' led them to a table glowing
with hyper-clean linen and glass and silver next to a window. A nasal
little ferret of a waiter came up and filled their water glasses,
rattling off the special and approved wine choices, but Sarah informed
him that they were still waiting for the third member of their party.
"Who else is coming?" Jesse asked her.
Sarah stretched out her hand across the table and took his. She smiled
broadly, her I'm-not-telling smile, then dropped her eyes and laid his
hand palm up on the tablecloth. She rested her palm on his, and traced
the lines of his wrist with her fingertips. Hand sex. God, he loved hand
sex. Sometimes she'd do it when he was driving on the freeway, enveloping
his hand on the stick shift. On one of those occasions, he'd had to pull
over at a rest stop and fuck her until they were both senseless.
The elderly couple at an adjacent table tried not to stare. "Harold, do
you think those girls are sisters?" the wife whispered.
"Lipstick lesbians," the old man told her kindly.
Presently, Sarah's third member of the party arrived. A tall, brutally
handsome man of about twenty-five called her name and kissed her on the
cheek.
"You must be Jessica. You're even prettier than Sarah said you were,"said
the stranger, taking Jesse's hand and kissing it theatrically with his
ripe mouth.
"Jessica, this is David. He was my chem TA last year," Sarah laughed. She
shook her hair a little bit, and grinned at Jesse's polite confusion.
David sat down, and he ordered them a bottle of wine, affectionately
calling it, "the cab." Through dinner, Jesse learned that he was a
Chemistry graduate student, and had fled Seattle to do research at
Georgia Tech the semester prior. He was funny and sarcastic, and his
complete lack of arrogance put Jessica at ease. Jess enjoyed watching his
intense face, with its bouncing eyebrows and amber eyes. He had a knack
of pulling his fingers through his jet black hair like he was thinking of
sweet and wicked things. Jesse laughed, drank, ate, and discovered that
this was the first time he had had fun at a table set with three forks at
each place. But he couldn't figure out why Sarah had arranged this little
dinner party, and why she had done it on his birthday, and why he was
there as Jessica, not Jesse, and why he liked it so much when David
watched him when he told stories.
******************************
Sarah had been slobbering drunk at a party their Freshman year of
college, and perched herself on Jesse's lap and informed him that he
would make out with her until the room would just stop spinning. Jesse
was willing and able to help her with that mission, but barely suspected
that they would still be together three years later.
The first year they knew each other was ordinary enough. It started out
with the usual carnal companionship and acting as each other's boredome
safety-net at parties. She was pretty and fun, and the sex was great, but
he wasn't sure that he could totally be himself with her. His secrets,
especially Jessica, might scare her off, and he didn't want to give her
the power of making him feel like a freak. But at one Murder Mystery
Dinner they went to, he found himself cornered by an Amazonian redhead in
the kitchen, and Sarah came in just in time to see her biting Jesse's
ear.
They broke up, deciding to try at being friends. They had too many mutual
friends to just hate and avoid each other. They talked a little, hung out
every month or so, and pretended to be immune to each other. Sarah
refused to talk about what she may or may not have done during that time,
but Jesse had slept with an English major who was into BDSM, a sorority
chick who had just dumped her boyfriend, and some girl named Marcie he
met at the library. But none of them lasted more than three weeks, and he
just missed Sarah more the less he saw her.
Finally, one night in December, six months after the Red Head Incident,
Jesse found one of Sarah's T shirts under his bed. His eyes got wet, and
after an agonizing hour, he called her, hoping she hadn't left for her
parents' house on the Olympic Peninsula for Christmas Break. She
answered, and her voice sounded surprised and happy.
"Sarah, can I come see you?"
"Sure. I'm at the laundromat right now. I'll be back at my place by about
ten."
He took the bus to her drafty studio apartment in the University
district, and found her folding clothes on the big brass bed in the
middle of the room. He looked around him at the new pictures on the wall,
how she'd moved the desk and book cases, how there was a pair of empty
beer bottles on the kitchen table. He doubted why he had come.
"When are you going back to your parents'?" he asked, trying to sound
nonchalant.
"Tuesday. I have to work at the lab till Monday night, unfortunately."
"That sucks," he said, and paused, reaching up to feel the brass bells
dangling off a gaudy lantern she had hung from the ceiling.
She had lit a fire in the fireplace, and it made her dark hair flash
orange as she sat folding her laundry. Usually, she would scamper around,
showing him books she had been reading, a cool photo she had found, or
made him sit and listen to a demo from a local band. But she just
placidly smoothed her clothes into neat piles.
"Sarah?," he murmered, almost just for the sake of saying that name, "I
miss you."
Her eyes got round, almost frightened, and she pulled her legs into the
Indian position. Those eyes? as shining and liquid as a river.
"I want to be with you again," he said sadly, sitting on the edge of the
bed.
The brown eyes filled up with tears, and she leaned over and put her head
on his shoulder. She started sniffing. Oh God, he'd made her cry. Why was
she crying?
"I'm so happy? so happy," she said into the fabric of his coat.
That night, they stayed up late, at first trying to resolve their
problems and apologise and forgive, but they both only felt truly
reunited once he was charging his cock into her sweet pussy, forcing
gasps and sighs and finally screams and gibberish out of her body.
Soon after that, he told her about Jessica.
"I want to meet her," Sarah replied.
The first time was incredibly awkward. He expected Sarah to burst out
laughing, or freak out and leave, but she didn't. She didn't take charge
of Jessica, she only suggested, responded, teased, coaxed and adored.
Sometimes, he was Jessica solo, and sometimes Sarah was involved.
Spring break of the next year, they had gone down to the Oregon Coast
together. Sarah had packed his bags, and once they got to the hotel, she
laid out a sundress and heels for him and informed him that Jesse was
banished. She and Jessica were spending this vacation together. The whole
week, he didn't worry about who saw him, or what people thought. Sarah
also chose that week to introduce butt plugs. He remembered walking down
the beach, a terrible boner warring against the tight low rise jeans, and
the butt plug hitting his sweet spot with the rhythm of his steps. When
Sarah realized it, she led him up to the rocks, unzipped the ridiculously
tight pants he wore, took his thick cock inside of her, and spun her hips
in mythical patterns until his whimpering scared away the seagulls.
Once, he got scared by it all. He asked her if she felt cheated at all
since he couldn't always be masculine. Her answer reassured him.
"I'm with you because I love you. I love everything about you, Jesse.
Even Jessica."
When they talked about their fantasies, he realized how his were much
more fantastic than hers. She secretly desired possible things, like
having sex so discreetly and quietly on a park bench that the people who
shouted, "Get a room!" at them didn't even realize it was way beyond that
point. There were only two that he couldn't fulfill: Firstly, she wanted
to have sex at Machu Pichu. Secondly, she really got turned on by the
idea of being a mermaid, and having some brutal land-man capture her and
keep her as a fuck pet.
"But do mermaids have vaginas?"
"Shut up, Jesse," she laughed, reaching around him and pulling him on top
of her by his butt cheeks.
His were harder to fulfill. Their sex toy collection had grown too big
for his nightstand drawer long ago: it now took up about half of the
cedar chest at the foot of his bed. Sarah was slow to decide what she was
comfortable with, but he was always impressed with her creative ways of
satisfying his imagination.
A forgotten past request had been that she wear a strap-on and fuck him
anally. It had been a night when he was in Jessica mode, wearing a black
bra and panties set, lying face down on her bed. Sarah was giving him a
massage at the time. She'd just bought a book on massage therapy, and was
trying out its tricks on him. He knew that the idea of a threesome was
scary to her, so it really surprised him when she said,
"We could do a strap-on, if you like. But I would also be willing to
bring in a real penis, if you'd like that, Jessica." She kneaded the
sinewy parts of his lower back.
"I thought you didn't want a threesome."
"I don't like the idea of having another girl in bed with us. And the
thought you and some random guy on me at the same time scares me. I don't
know why. But what if a guy and I were focused on you at the same time?"
Jesse thought for a minute, got a little hot and bothered, and said
huskily, "That's hot."
Two weeks later, he'd climbed into bed with her around 3 a.m. and found
her asleep, wearing a monstrous strap on. He woke her up, and didn't get
any sleep that night.
***********************
It wasn't until the end of his birthday dinner that he remembered that
conversation. All three of them were getting into Sarah's car when David
mentioned that the massage therapists in Georgia don't give half as good
massages as a Pacific Northwest Hippy. Jesse remembered the threesome
conversation during the massage back in February. Now it was November?
would she really do it nine months after they had talked about it? Did
she even remember it?
He felt his face and neck getting feverish. His heart was pounding.
"Where next, Sarah?" he asked.
"Curiosity killed the cat," she answered.
David turned around from the front passenger seat, arched an eyebrow, and
said, "It's a mystery." And then he seized Jessica's hand and pretended
to read her palm.
Soon enough, Jesse realized where they were going. Sarah's apartment. The
first snow was just beginning to fall on the dingy city streets.
When they got to the top of the stairs, Sarah fumbled in her tiny spangly
purse for the house key. The apartment was dark and cold, and she pulled
the chain on the overhead light and went straight to the fireplace to
stoke the cinders and build a new fire. David put his arm around
Jessica's waist, saying, "C'mon. Let's warm up." But Jesse was frozen in
the doorway. Suspended over the gleaming brass bed was a harness and a
system of ropes.
To Be Continued.
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