Best Served Warmer Part 1
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Best Served Warmer - Part 2 free porn video
Sequel 3 to "Best Served Cold"
I suppose I should have been more anxious about Linda's party, but by then I had been inoculated against much worse horrors than her admitted attraction to Michael. I did find her relationship with him laced with eroticism, and their long friendship and Linda's evidence of his honorable character were a calming influence on the stories I wove about them in my head.
I made a pizza, drank some beer, and watched TV to pass the time. I wasn't tempted to 'jerk off', as Linda had feared, but I did think about her with Michael. I was preoccupied with how he'd like her new dress and whether he may get a peek at her new, red, see-through panties.
After a shower, I wandered into our shared bedroom closet to find my robe. On my way out, I noticed a streak of flowered material sandwiched between Linda's summer dresses and tops. I pried it from between the rest and recognized it as the dress she had worn for 'Stephan', and then for me when we role played at the Excelsior bar a month ago. I took it to the bathroom, hung it on the shower door, and stared. There was nothing extraordinary about it. It looked like new. For all I knew, she may have only worn it twice in public.
I felt a bit silly playing with the buttons, but I couldn't help undoing them, one by one, then pulling the top of the dress open as wide as it would allow. I remembered her breasts surrounded and cinched by the fabric, pushed upward and outward across the table toward me. It was odd in a way; it was the first time I had touched it, after all we had been through. I thought about how Michael would have buttoned and unbuttoned it when they rehearsed, and how he was hard for her while playing his part. I passed my hand under the bottom hem, then inside, following the tapering waves of soft cotton upward to the waist. This was where his hand found her bare thigh, then crept slowly along it to her wet center that begged him for relief. I could imagine the tension between them as they played their parts, over and over, so desperate and hungry for each other, yet too cautious to surrender to yet another infidelity.
My cell rang, and I went to the bedroom to answer it. It was an old college friend who always called around the holidays, just to catch up. I went back to the den where I was watching TV, and we talked for an hour. After he called, I was looking for a late-night movie when a text alert sounded. It was 11:00, and I thought Linda might have needed a ride home if she had been drinking.
[Linda] Party ran late. You ok?
[Me] Fine. You coming home?
[Linda] Still want your fantasy?
[Me] ???
[Linda] Michael wants to play. ok?
[Me] Play what?
[Linda] With me. ok?
[Me] dunno. for real?
[Linda] For real
[Me] dunno
[Linda] Please? NO fucking
[Me] You tipsy?
[Linda] No booze here - a dry party
[Me] dunno
[Linda] Tell you about it later...all of it!
[Me] when?
[Linda] Maybe an hour. NO fucking. I promise.
[Me] where?
[Linda] Secret - just 1 hour?
[Me] is it safe?
[Linda] Very
[Me] where?
[Linda] Told you - secret.
[Me] is michael with you?
[Linda] Yes - right now.
[Me] sigh - well ok - 1 hour then home. Behave.
[Linda] You really want me to?
[Me] maybe...not...
[Linda] Love you - bye!
I stared at the phone in disbelief. Was it one of her games? Or had I said just enough before she left to assure her I'd be okay with it?
She was home by 12:30, looking just as delicious as when she left. She was carrying the red shoes, now barefoot in the red dress, her hair a tangle of wild curls. She kissed me on the cheek, thanked me, and headed for the bedroom to change. I followed her to watch.
The dress was laid out on the bed, unwrinkled and blazing with color. She turned to me and smiled, standing by the bed in nothing but the red panties. I hadn't seen her in just the panties before. I could hardly breathe.
"Do you like them?" she asked. She turned her ass toward me, looked over her shoulder, and grinned.
"The question is, did Michael?" I asked.
"Of course not! At least, not like this. I promised we wouldn't fuck. Oh, come on, let's go to bed. I'll tell you everything."
She seemed so full of energy, like a kid on Christmas morning, flitting from room to room, turning off lights and the TV. When she returned to the bedroom, she hopped on the bed in her red panties and patted a spot beside her. She was radiant, glowing, and visibly excited.
"Come here, Fantasy Boy. I have things to tell you." She lay on her side and raised one bent knee up, teasing me with the sight of the nearly transparent panties, glued to her slit like wet tissue. I climbed on the bed, moved alongside her, and ran my fingers through her hair.
"Michael wanted me to let it down after the party. He thought it was sexy. I guess it looks kind of wild though, doesn't it? No one saw it, well, except you and Michael."
I touched her shoulder, then traced a path to her breasts. They were warm and flawless.
"Did he touch you like this?" I asked, repainting the picture of them together in my head.
"He did, David. I love his hands on me - you know that. Can you imagine him doing it?"
"Yes, I can. I am."
I moved down to her belly, and she gasped.
"Keep going David, please?"
The panties were so delicate I was afraid they'd disintegrate when I slid my hand inside. There was no elastic, nothing more than a band of lace that came away from her skin the instant I touched it. Farther down, she was soaked. Two fingers slipped inside her with no resistance. I had never seen her that open and wet before we fucked.
"Did he come in you?" I'm sure I let my concern show in my voice.
"God, NO, David, I told you we didn't fuck. He played with me for an hour, with his hands, and his fingers. I couldn't even concentrate on his cock. I just gave up trying. I came twice; I didn't need him to fuck me."
She lay on her back, panting, while I stroked her belly with one hand and dipped my fingers into the liquid pool of juices between her legs with the other. Finally, she took my hand and stopped me. "I'm too sensitive for more of that now. I just want you inside me. Please David, will you do that? Now? Please?"
"Will you pretend I'm him? While I'm fucking you?" I asked, tentatively.
"No, David, I promise, I won't."
"No - I'm asking you to do it, Linda. I want to see you pretend it's him. It's my fantasy. Right now, my only one. Will you do it, for me?"
She studied me for a few seconds, trying to make sure she understood. Then I saw a hint of a smile again when she finally recognized how genuine my fantasy was.
She unleashed her answer in a single, uninterrupted stream of urgent desperation. "I will, David, I'll pretend it was hours ago, and I'll pretend he's on top of me, inside me, and I'll let him come in me, and he'll make me come too, and we'll get dressed and I'll come home to you and tell you all of it... Just please, fuck me!"
I lowered the panties slowly, in by inch, down along her legs. She shivered with impatience. Her eyes were closed, and she spread her legs and touched herself. Her hips rose off the bed and she put her hand between her legs, parting two fingers to cradle the engorged cord of flesh between them, offering up her clit to me as a tantalizing finish to her story.
Her body's response was how I imagined her with another lover; her belly was sunken and flat, quivering with contractions and spasms, and her eyes were closed as she imagined her lover's promise to fill her. If only I could have read her mind. I was struck suddenly by her uncommon beauty there beside me. Her naked body seemed to offer itself up to me. Thick swirls of wild, tangled hair fell across her face in places, hiding an eye, a cheek, and a portion of her wide mouth.
Then she opened her eyes and pleaded with me, gasping and thrusting her hips in the air against her fingers. "Aren't you going to fuck me, David? Don't torture me! Please, David - I want you - here - inside me!"
I fell into her, sinking past her swollen, drenched labia, marveling at the liquid depth between her straining thighs. She clutched me suddenly, pulling me down onto her breasts and belly, chanting in even whispers, close to my ear. "Fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - " It went on and on, the rhythm and volume never changing. Her eyes were closed again, and I tried to guess who she imagined was there between her legs. She let out a sudden, short cry at first when she came. Then, in the brief pauses between gasps and moans, in a small, fragile voice, I heard her whisper, "Michael - Michael - Michael...".
~*~
The following night, Linda was stretched out on the sofa, tapping away at her phone. In my head, I could see her and Michael making out in some secret location, his hand under the red dress, fingers deep in her pussy as they kissed. Then it was Linda on her knees sucking him, greedily taking his semen in her mouth and down her throat as she had with her past lover, Jordan.
I sat across the room and stared. She wore another of my presents, a silky pajama set with roomy shorts and a brief vest that fastened at the front with a single loop and button. It was forest green, her favorite color, and she had loved it the minute she opened it. As she stretched and changed positions, the button came undone, exposing her nipples and much of the ivory domes of firm flesh beneath them. I couldn't help imagining Michael's hands on them. She gathered the sides together and buttoned it again, but not before she caught me looking.
"You're ogling me again. Do you want to have sex?"
When I didn't answer right away, she looked over at me and said, "You're thinking about me and Michael again, aren't you? While you're watching me?"
I confessed I was.
"You know, I found the dress I wore at the bar hanging in the bathroom last night. Did you put it there?" she asked.
Fuck, I had forgotten to return it to the closet before she found it.
"I, ah, guess I'm busted," I confessed. "I had never even touched it - only you and Michael had. You were at the party with him, and I needed to know what it might have been like for you when he put his hands on you that night. When I put my hand up under it, I thought about what it must have been like to be him when he touched you and fingered you. I knew it was a ridiculous thing to do, but I was obsessed with memories of you wearing it, of how you unbuttoned it the second he ordered you to do it. Then, as I stared at your dress, there was this overpowering need to know - if he was doing all of it to you again at the party."
"So, you were that worried?" she asked.
"No, I can't explain why, but honestly, I was that excited. But it does worry me too at times, when I'm not in the middle of a fantasy. Part of your attraction to him reminds me of what I did to you, and that you and he might be some kind of ongoing, cosmic payback. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever be able to trust me again, and what I can possibly do to repair that."
Linda stared at me thoughtfully for a while before she answered. "I had no idea you were this concerned, David. I hope you don't think my attraction to Michael is some kind of revenge. It began long before I met you. I'm being as open and honest about it as I can possibly be. Your fling with Joanna brought you and Michael together for the first time, face to face, and now I regret that it was his 'Stephan' you met that night. But that's in the past. I've forgiven you. I want us to be happy together. If you don't want me to see him again, or even mention my past with him, I'll do that for you. Just tell me."
It was the last thing I expected to hear, especially with such genuine conviction. But I knew the fantasy would always haunt me, even if it went unspoken. Repressing it would likely make it an obsession that would grow into frustration and regret, and I'd much rather know Linda's sexual needs and fantasies than constantly wonder what they might be. Knowing each other's fantasies in uncensored detail and accepting them as part of who we are would be the only way we'd finally escape the past and avoid reliving it.
"I can't ask you to do that," I assured her. "I don't even want you to. Now that we've come this far, we can't start hiding things from each other. My fantasies of you and Michael are too consuming to abandon, and I have to trust you if I expect you to ever trust me again. While I was in the fantasy, running my hands over the dress you wore with him was as though I was there as you and he rehearsed, like I was almost a part of your plan to teach me a lesson that night. Except, instead of only rehearsing, I pictured his hands on you, and yours on him, and then you cumming, collapsing into his arms as he fingered you, and maybe even as he fucked you."
"Well, sorry, but it wasn't at all like that, David. It could have been. We were so close to giving in to it, to go beyond where Michael's script led us. But I guess I was more hurt than angry, and I desperately hoped there was still a way to fix us. Michael deserves a lot of credit for that too - I know he wanted me. It must have been painful for him - he was so hard the entire time we practiced our little plan. All I could think of much of the time was reaching over and taking his erection in my hand, even if it was just for a few seconds. I suppose it's why I couldn't resist doing it later that night in his hotel room."
"But you did take it in your hand, last night, didn't you?" I prompted her.
I saw her confusion change immediately to a warm smile. "OK - what do you want to know about last night? But take off your pants first. I want to see you get hard. And come over here - I want to play with you while we talk."
I took off everything and lay beside her on the sofa. She giggled, and ran her fingers over my chest, then down, lower. "I've always loved watching you get hard," she said quietly, as though someone might be close by and hear her. "I've seen men with erections before, but I rarely get to see it grow like this. It's rather fascinating, seeing something so helpless looking grow into something so long and stiff it can reach all the way up inside me. Reeealy, raaather, faascinating..." I watched her pretend to inspect it carefully, pulling and bending it to look from every angle. She grinned at me. "Did you know your cock is fascinating?"
Her grin became a satisfied smile as she began to milk it slowly from base to tip, watching it grow. "Now, what was it you wanted to know...?"
"Sooo, I guess you kissed him?" I asked.
"Mmmm, a lot..."
"And he put his hand up under your pretty, red dress?"
"Ummm, no, not at first."
She went quiet for a minute, teasing me with the vague answer.
I unbuttoned her top and ran my palm lightly over her breast, circling my thumb over her nipple. "So, then he must have done something like this..."
She turned on her side and put her arm across my chest, moving closer, inches from my face. She delivered the words so slowly, drawing them out, waiting for my response between each phrase.
"He...pulled my top down...and...licked...my neck, and then...my breasts and nipples. I just...let him...play with me. I wanted evvvery bit of him. His attention...his mouth...his tongue...and yes...," she told me, staring into my eyes with passion, "even his cock."
Running all of it through my head, digesting it, and making it come to life took time, and we were quiet for a minute before either of us spoke again. She was raking her long fingernails lightly up and down over my erection, spending extra time on the glans where the sensation was almost unbearable.
"So, you did want him to fuck you," I said, finally.
"Of course, David. Before he was done, I wanted it all. But I promised you. So we didn't."
"And, when he had his hands under your dress?"
"It was easy for him. When we were finally alone, he wanted me to take my panties off, so I did. He pulled up my dress and fingered me for so, fucking, long before he ate me. I came in his mouth, and he drank, like he was parched and I was an oasis in the desert. It was...just, so, wonderful."
"I can tell - you're smiling like it happened five minutes ago," I told her, grinning. But it was more than that. She was glowing. Her entire body was alive with her story. I could read every detail on her skin, in her eyes, and the way the words escaped from between her lips with such savored heat and passion.
"Funny, it seems like less than a day has passed," she mused. "It's almost like the past has sneaked up on me - the time between when I knew him in school and the present seems compressed, like it's been a month instead of ten years. He's changed so little. He could have had anyone, but he still wanted me. Now, here he is again."
"And when it was your turn?" I asked.
"I'm afraid I didn't spend as much time on him. I wanted to. I played with his cock, used my hands on him, well, you know, like I do with you. I know it's been a long time, but it all came flooding back - the time I spent with him in school, how hard he'd get for me when I'd undress in front of him, and the way he'd always fuck me when I'd come begging for it.
"Eventually, I took him in my mouth. Even the taste was the same, and I swallowed every last drop he had to give me. He didn't last long. It was so sweet - he took my face in his hands so gently afterwards. He told me how sex with me was so special back in college because he could tell how much it meant to me, and that I was always so hungry for him. Of course, he had to add that I was the best freshman piece of ass he had ever had. I laughed, but he stopped me, and he said he meant every word."
"I'm sure he was right, on all counts," I told her. "You know, I'm not sure why, but hearing you tell me about it the way you do...well, I probably should be, but I'm not worried or jealous - maybe a bit envious, that it's all so new and exciting for you..."
"Really David, you have no reason to be. Honestly. I want you for my husband, never him. I couldn't ask to be married to a more compassionate and understanding man."
"But sex with him makes you happy, doesn't it?" I suggested.
"Just the sex, but yes, it always has. I like him, and I'd really love to fuck him, but that's where it ends."
"So, I suppose I could look the other way now and then. You'd have to find times and places where you could be discreet; no one can know about this. And, I want you to tell me afterwards, every time. It would have to be just sex - nothing like an affair. I guess I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but the thought of it excites me - my irresistibly fuckable wife having secret sex with an old college lover..."
"It's been a fantasy of yours since that night, hasn't it?" she asked. "A handsome, confident man, meeting me, seducing me, fucking me into total oblivion, and then sending me back to you to confess all of it? I don't completely understand it, but something happened that night. You really want this, don't you?"
"I do. But I never thought any of it would come true. Did you?"
"Not really, David. But honestly, I'd always fantasized, maybe even dared to hope, that Michael might be more than just a client again someday. Fucking both of you without putting our marriage in danger was always as unlikely as winning the lottery twice in a row. Now, I think what you're suggesting may be even better."
Gert
- 10.08.2020
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- Wife Lovers
