Best Served Cold2 A Dish Served Cold
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Best Served Cold - Chapter 6, The Party, Best-Laid Plans free porn video
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. All their best clients were invited as appreciation for their continuing allegiance. The invites included Michael and most of his staff.
"I wouldn't know what to say to him. It's not that I'm afraid of seeing him again. I think I understand the relationship you two have pretty well. 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, maybe that you and he are having an affair. 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 the 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 the way the dress fit, not my clueless search through her closet for the right size that had been the reason. 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 the 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'd 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 forgot all about the party until Linda had 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 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'. Maybe I should have agreed to go with her.
"My God. I thought it looked good in the window; you're gorgeous! 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, but I'd just feel out of place. And I'd be miserable all night, trying to avoid any hint of our connection to him. I know how you two will probably be together, and the last thing I want is having everyone watch the two of you get touchy-feely while I stand by and get those looks from everyone. You know what I mean - the looks that a husband gets when they're sure the other guy's fucking his wife. It turns my stomach just picturing it."
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 under the dress when I sit. I'm nice and neat now."
"In case someone sees your pussy," I offered, trying unsucessfully to hold back the hint of a smile.
"You have such a dirty mind. No one is going to be looking at my pussy tonight. And even if they catch a quick look, 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'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 your story 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, your plan was 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 a 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 would actually want to see it, but you know it's a fantasy of mine, and I know it would make you happy. 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, and I know 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 a year 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 exaggerate 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 to where I sat, hiked the dress up over her thighs, and knelt in front of me. "I don't want you to worry, David. I don't love him - I never did. I am attracted to him - he's a 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 do enjoy teasing you about him, though. 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 at all about submitting to him when we were back in school; those feelings came later when 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."
"We were hugging - I could feel his erection against me, and I just put my hand there. I didn't plan it. I didn't touch his penis. 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. But 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?"
"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 offered to fuck 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 had never 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.
***
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 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 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 the dress, 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 desperately 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 drinking?
Linda: Just a little. Just one. OK, two.
Me: You sure? Only two?
Linda: Just two. White wine. No daiquiris...I wish!
Me: When will you be home?
Linda: Maybe an hour. NO fucking. I promise!
Me: Not at Michael's place.
Linda: No. Still at the office. Everyone's gone.
Me: 1 hour then home. BEHAVE
Linda: You really want me to?
Me: Maybe....
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 make her believe I'd be okay with it? "Maybe"? Why the fuck had I said, "Maybe"?
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 except Michael - and now you."
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 wet before we fucked.
"Did he come in you?" I'm sure I let the 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. I'm wet for you, David - now. I came home to fuck you! Isn't all this what you wanted to hear? You're so hard..."
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 placed her hand over mine and guided my fingers, swirling lightly over her drenched clit as she pleaded desperately for relief. "I want you inside me now. Only you, David. Please, will you do that? Now? Please?"
"Will you pretend I'm him?" 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. I want to see you come with him like you did in college. It's my fantasy. 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 he'll make me come and we'll get dressed and I'll come home to you and tell you all of it... Now please, fuck me!"
I lowered the panties slowly, inch 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 again, gasping and thrusting her hips in the air against her fingers. "Aren't you - going to fuck me, David? Don't - torture me, please! 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 seconds of silence between gasps and moans, in a small, fragile voice, I heard her whisper, "Michael...Michael...Michael..."
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