Best Served Cold2 A Dish Served Cold
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Best Served Cold - Chapter 8, "You're Getting Hard, Aren't You?" free porn video
The holidays arrived and departed as they always have, with last minute shopping, wrapping presents, and the obligatory visits with family and friends. We planned a small New Year's Eve party at our place with fifteen or twenty guests. "Did you invite him?" I had asked, hoping I still had a say in the decision. "I suppose it would be awkward to uninvite him, but with our friends here, I really don't think it's the right time or place. I would like to meet him though, eventually, if for no other reason than to be convinced he's not the 'Stephan' I met that night."
"I think I know what you'd like," she had said, grinning. "We'll have him over some other time, when the three of us can talk." There was something in her voice that suggested she had already planned it, and had expectations she hadn't shared. There was something in her eyes as well; it was always her eyes that gave her away when she spoke of Michael.
January turned bitterly cold, with more and more snow and all the inconveniences that came with it. Linda and I both returned to work without much of a break from the holiday madness. We were always a bit sad when the holidays were over; it was our favorite time of the year. We loved putting up the tree, and hated taking it down. On the street below, the strings of lights and blinking decorations were gone and the city had returned to browns and grays. Winter still held a few lingering ghosts from our past, but mine had faded to a pale remnant of the menacing specter born at the Excelsior Hotel bar. Linda's ghosts seemed to have disappeared completely, or she had hidden them well during her concentrated effort to keep us whole. Our work consumed us, and time accelerated until spring had brightened our spirits and reawakened our appetites for new bedtime fantasies.
"I saw Michael today."
I watched her there across from me, propped up near the end of the sofa with her legs stretched out in front of her. She raised one knee as she spoke, bunching her nightshirt up around her waist, showing me a mouthwatering expanse of bare leg from hip to toe. I could see between her legs where the familiar red panties barely covered her. I knew it wasn't a coincidence that the red panties suddenly appeared along with the mention of his name.
"At work?" I asked, still staring between her legs.
"No, not there..." She didn't look up from her tablet.
"Was it a place I'd know? Did you go to lunch, or maybe have a drink with him after work?" I guessed. My heart was pounding
"You're getting warmer," she said, trying to hold back a smile, still punching and swiping across the surface of her new iPad.
I went to the sofa and sat on the edge beside her. She was fiddling with her tablet, scrolling through collections of our friends' holiday photos. The red panties had to be a sign; she hadn't worn them since the night of her office party.
"So, you had sex with him?" I asked, cautiously.
She put down her tablet and gave me an apologetic look. "You said it was okay, that you could look the other way occasionally. Did you change your mind?"
"Well, no. But I wanted you to let me know. That was our agreement."
"I am letting you know. Now."
"Then, when was it?" I asked, nervously. It had excited me at first, but now I worried her overly buoyant mood since the time of our agreement might be a sign of trouble.
"Today. Just today. Only one time." She began to smile again. "You're getting hard, aren't you?"
How could she always do that so easily, so predictably? There was this uncanny synergy in the sight of her willing body and her teasing, seductive smile that always reeled me in, and she was exquisitely adept at adding the words she knew would command my cock to rise for her when she wanted it.
"I want to see you," I told her, too distracted to answer her question. I adjusted her nightshirt and pulled the panties down along her legs and over her bare feet. She let the leg nearest me fall off the sofa, flaunting her bare sex, knowing it would make me harder. I held the wisp of red lace in my hands, drawing the waist taut with two fingers, matching the width of her hips. The panties felt as if they might float away in the air if I let them go. "You wore them for him when you were with him? Today?"
"I want you inside me while I tell you. Can we do it here, on the sofa?" Her eyes locked on mine so seriously, yet there was an unmistakable certainty that she knew I'd want what she promised. She was visibly wet, naked under the shirt, spreading her legs and inviting me in.
When I undressed and began to climb between her legs, she stopped me. "No - I want to be on top. I don't want you to be able to escape once I start," she teased.
"Why would I try to escape?" I asked, still a bit too ambivalent to fully accept her playfulness the way she intended it.
She narrowed her eyes, wearing her best playful grin. "Maybe it'll be too much for you."
Linda lowered herself slowly onto my erection, squirming a little to get comfortable. And she began her story.
"I told Michael you agreed to 'look the other way' if we decided to fuck. We had a long talk first. He didn't want to complicate our past by agreeing to fuck me if he wasn't sure you were okay with it - well, more than okay. I told him how hard you were when we pretended you were him fucking me after the party, and he was anxious to make our first 'date.'"
"A date? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"His word, not mine. Maybe this will be too much for you. Hmmm? Maybe I should stop..."
"Wait! What? No - tell me!" She just couldn't resist teasing, right up to the last minute.
"Michael picked me up at lunch today, just a few blocks from the office. Don't worry - no one saw us. But even if they had, he and I do go to lunch there together now and then, just to talk shop. Still, it was exciting, imagining everyone knew I was slipping away to fuck a man who isn't my husband. I would never want the people I work with to know, but while I sat waiting for him at the little outdoor cafe, a few of the men stared at me, well, you know, the way they do when they think I might be available. I began to fantasize that a few of them knew what I was about to do, and that they wanted to fuck me before Michael got his turn. I imagined they were all hard for me, the 'innocent, everyday wife' who was unable to hide that she was on her way to be fucked by her lover.
"Then, in the middle of my fantasy, this guy appeared out of nowhere and asked if he could join me. He was so young, in his early twenties I guessed, a little scruffy, but so confident in the way he approached me with his boyish good looks. His crotch was at eye level, and I couldn't take my eyes off his faded jeans as he stood there beside me - such a cute little butt and very nice bulge where I imagined his cock waited so impatiently for me. It just looked so delicious. I told him I was waiting for my husband, but instead of folding and slinking away, he just smiled, and told me, 'Maybe some other time, then?' I wondered, had I not been waiting for Michael, if I might have gone with him to discover what was inside those faded jeans. I can still see the outline of his surprisingly large cock, right there in front of me, eagerly prepared to fuck me. But, I'm sure it was just my impatience to fuck Michael that made me even consider it. At least that's what I told myself as I watched his cute little butt disappear into the crowd."
She was rising and falling on my cock so slowly, timing her movements to match the words she used to draw me into her story. She had taken me deep inside her, and then stopped, impaled to the hilt as she closed her eyes, wearing a faint, satisfied smile. Her contractions were those of a small but powerful fist inside her belly, clamping, releasing, and then tightening again, over and over, as she relived her encounter with her scruffy admirer. At first, I had thought he was merely an exaggerated embellishment to her story, but then I wasn't so sure.
"Would you have fucked him?" I asked, quietly. "I mean, if it was a normal workday and you had stopped for lunch there? You've never told me anything like this before."
She opened her eyes and stared down at me with a look that penetrated any and all doubts I had about her sincerity. I knew how adept she was at leading me through a labyrinth of erotic surprises and trapdoors. Admittedly, I always followed her willingly, so eager to see her as a woman open to ever more perversity. But I was also more and more aware that she loved weaving our fantasies into her little stories while we fucked.
"You must know I look at other men, David - that I wonder what some of them might be like in bed. Does it seem so impossible that I might be seduced by at least one of them, far beyond my best attempt to refuse them?"
"So, you might fuck him? If you happen to meet him 'some other time?' Would you tell me?"
"I'm not that easy, David. But what if I had gone with him? What if that guy at the cafe took me somewhere and fucked me, even if it was only for a few minutes, for as long as it took for both of us to come? We'd never see each other again after a single, momentary lapse of judgment; it would be my little secret I'd remember on a day when I'm feeling less than attractive and need to know men other than my husband might still find me desirable."
I moved both hands to her breasts, pushing them gently upward and together, just as they had looked when bound by the unbuttoned opening at the front of her flowered dress. When her smile widened, I was sure she could read my mind. "Do you have many of these little secrets?" I asked, stunned and excited by her confession.
"Enough to keep you begging for more, David. But you only get one at a time, and only when I want to see you sweat a little while I get you hard." On the last word she clenched my cock as tightly as she could, holding it, watching me with amusement as I tried to delay spewing every drop I had into her tense, clutching belly.
"But maybe now you'd rather hear about Michael and me..." she teased, afraid I wouldn't last until she fed me the rest of her story.
"He owns a rental house, just outside the city. The last tenants had just moved out, so we had the entire house to ourselves. We talked for a while. He wanted to know all about you, especially about your decision to share me with him. I explained that I had filled you in on my history with him, and that it was a subject you and I have danced around and played with for a while now. He seemed satisfied with that.
"He told me about a couple he met when he worked as an actor in New York, a husband and wife who shared the fantasy of another man fucking her. They approached him one night after his show, and the husband watched his wife flirt with Michael outside the theater. He fucked the wife a few times while her husband watched. He said he often thought about fucking me when we'd see each other now and then, and he knew it had worked for the couple in New York, but he doubted you'd ever be open to considering it, so he never suggested it.
"Anyway, we talked about old times, some of the strange and funny people we knew on campus, and yes, a little about having sex together back then. I asked him, 'why me?' When he could have had any girl on campus? He told me it wasn't just one thing. He thought my body was perfect, and so was the way I fucked, like I was so hungry for it that nothing else mattered. I was shocked. I never knew he saw me that way. When I told him I assumed I was just an afterthought, he confessed that he used to masturbate thinking of me knocking on his door every time I needed sex. He never told me any of that back then. I was just happy and always a little surprised that a guy like Michael wanted to fuck me.
"He asked me to strip for him. It was lunchtime, and I was in my work clothes, but I think he liked that - watching me lay my jacket and blouse on the floor, seeing me peel my slacks off, then unfasten my bra and model my red panties for him. It was the first time he had seen me in just the panties and nothing else - I wanted to surprise him. I could tell by the way he stared and smiled at me that he recognized them from that night after the party. He told me to leave my heels on and turn and pose for him. His voice changed as I turned to face him again - I almost didn't recognize it. He told me to pull the panties down to my ankles and leave them there. I did, and I'm sure he could see how wet I was. That's when he called me a, 'cock-hungry little slut.' I don't know how he knew what it would do to me. He just did. I liked it, David. No, I fucking loved hearing him say it."
"Is that how you saw yourself?" I asked.
"I only know it excited me, David. I've been the 'good girl' for so long, since after the time Jordan made me his slave, and for years before that. There is a difference, you know, between giving myself to a man and submitting to him in my fantasies. The way Michael spoke to me blurred those differences, as if he knew all about my fantasies and laid them bare in front of me. He said that the next time I see him I can't wear any panties at all. He said he wants me naked under my clothes like a 'little slut', so he could, 'see my pussy drip,' while I strip for him. From now on he wants to see all of me, and that I wouldn't be completely naked for him unless I was shaved. He was so insistent, so demanding in the way he said it that it brought back memories of Jordan's demands just before he tied me and fucked me. I was mortified that it made me so wet. I was afraid I might have to explain why if he asked. But he just looked between my legs and smiled like he understood.
"I know I don't have the body I had in college, but he kept telling me how beautiful I was. Then he'd grin and call me his, 'pretty little slut.' The longer he talked, the more I wanted him to see all of me. I took the panties off and turned and posed for him when he asked. I played with my breasts and spread my legs for him. He told me to play with myself, and I put my hand between my legs and did it, shamelessly, right there in front of him. When he finally reached out and lifted my breasts with his hands, it was as though nothing else existed outside of that room."
She paused, securely impaled on me, and took a few deep breaths. I could feel her juices begin to soak me, the unexpected coolness of the liquid as it coated the root of my cock and drenched my pubic hair. I could see reliving her time with him had stopped her story as though she was there, and that her confessions caused her to become lost in wanton sensations she couldn't express in words.
"Jesus, I wish I could have been there," I told her, needing a few deep breaths myself. "The thought of you stripping for him during your lunch hour, the clothes everyone sees you wear at the office in a pile at your feet; I doubt anyone but me would ever picture you there like that. I guess you were late getting back."
"He wanted me to call in sick the rest of the afternoon, so I did," she went on, finally. "After that, I just went to him, unzipped him, and sucked him. It was so like it used to be. He was thick and hard and the taste of him was so familiar. My hands were on him everywhere - his thighs, his ass, and his hard, flat stomach. He tried to stop me when he was close to cumming, but I wouldn't - I couldn't. He kept trying to back away from me, but I closed my mouth around him and pulled him close. It was as though it was Jordan's cock, and I'd be punished if I didn't drink everything he had to give me.
"When he came, I swallowed and swallowed, but a little of it leaked out of the corners of my mouth. I don't think he was even aware of it - he just closed his eyes, put his head back, and gave me all of it in a few surging gushes. There was so much semen, just as I remembered with Jordan. Still, this time no one scolded me or punished me for what I spilled. I was happy that I had pleased him, and that I had shown him how hungry I was for him, just like he said he remembered in college.
"We got naked and lay on the carpet together for a while after that. He couldn't keep his hands off my body. I loved how he had time for me after I finished him - how he stroked my neck and ran his fingers over me. I had forgotten how preoccupied he was with simply touching and stroking me all over back then.
"We had waited so long, so many years, and were so desperate for each other. There wasn't any foreplay - after he had time to recover, we just fucked. But it didn't take me back to how I remembered it in college like I expected. I wasn't his 'afterthought' anymore. I thought of you, when you surprised me by telling me that you could 'look the other way'. I imagined you there, watching, smiling with approval, telling me I could have his cock, and that I should enjoy every second of it. I came while I was thinking all that about you. It was so intense, yet so warm and satisfying.
"He watched me like you do when we dressed to leave. He kissed me, asked if I was okay, and when we could do it again. I reminded him you had said, 'now and then,' and I told him that it had to be just sex and nothing more, but that when he wanted me again, I'd be willing. He looked relieved in a way - maybe that we'd be able to fuck again, but also, maybe that the obsession I had for him back then was much different than how I think of him now. I made it clear that I loved his body and his cock, but that I get amazing 'husband cock', and everything else I need, from you."
I had my hands on her hips, slowly rubbing my thumbs along the crease between her legs and her silken belly. My fingers wandered onto the yielding pillow of flesh just above where she had taken me inside her, sliding once over her slippery, engorged nub, then slightly higher, tracing even lines over the smooth, sensitive skin there.
She inhaled sharply, hissing, letting her head fall back.
"Sssss - you know what that does to me - you know I can't take it - God, you're killing me!"
My hands became careful spiders - deliberate, searching, crawling fingerlings, inching step by step up over her flat belly. She shuddered and hissed again. "Oh fuck, David - fuck! fuck!" She fell back, stretching her arms behind her until she caught herself, arching her back and whimpering. I pulled at her nipples, milking and stretching them just enough to make her gasp.
She leaned forward again, rising and falling on my cock, pounding me furiously with her perfect ass. Lowering my hands slowly back down her belly, I found the bare, drenched lips of her pussy, then probed and circled her rubbery clit with the tip of my finger.
"Oh fucking Christ, David I'm going to come I'm going to come - oh fuck me, fuck me, FUCK me..."
It was too much for me - I gaped at her straining torso, her shuddering breasts, and the tornado of hair whipping wildly about her shoulders. The words and sounds she made let me know the crest she was riding would break and carry her crashing over the edge in seconds. Just as she let it take her, she reached between us and circled the base of my cock tightly with her thumb and fingers. We rode over the cliff together, suddenly reaching and clutching at each other, sealing our mouths together in a deep, violent, carnivorous kiss.
She lay there panting on top of me afterward, her head on my chest, my leg trapped between her thighs. I could feel the hard rise of her mound push into my thigh in regular little spasms like earthquake aftershocks.
"God, David - that was perfect. I'm so happy. This is going to work, isn't it? I mean with Michael?"
"I have to admit, there is something exciting about it," I told her. "I want you to be happy. I know it's been my fantasy for so long, but I was always uneasy about how I might react if it really happened. You make it a lot easier for me to accept. I love seeing you like this. You know I've always craved your body, along with the sounds you make and the way you give yourself up to me when we make love. It isn't lost on me how lucky I am to have such a gorgeous, sexy wife. It's no wonder so many men want you. And I was the lucky one you chose."
"I always thought I was the lucky one, David. I still think that."
I loved staring into her wide eyes, inches away from mine on the pillow. It seemed impossible that they might hide secrets in those moments. It was as if I could fall into them and get lost in their depths, leaving all my doubts and fears behind.
"So, you don't mind if I see him again? Maybe not too soon, but eventually?"
"When I told you I could, 'look the other way,' I meant it. As long as I have you as often as I need you, not just in bed, but in every other way, in my life. I want to share this with you. I want to know what you do with him - what he does to you - all of it. I suppose the only things that scare me are secrets, the things you and he share that I'm not aware of. I have to know everything. He has to understand that."
"We need to have him over, David, so we can talk about all of this. Are you comfortable with that? The only Michael you've ever known is 'Stephan'. You have to remember he's been an actor, and that 'Stephan' isn't the real Michael at all."
"Like I said, I don't want any secrets, and that includes who Michael really is." I took a deep breath, then exhaled. "This is surreal. I'm going to meet the man who's fucking my wife. And for some reason I can't possibly explain, I think I'm looking forward to it."
Linda raised her head and planted a quick kiss on my lips. "So am I, David. Probably even more than you are."
Bess
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