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- 3 years ago
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Opening Up free porn video
I couldn't believe it - after 25 years of courtship, with twenty of those in wedded bliss, my wife was actually suggesting we see other people! Not just see, mind you, but to have affairs, as with the three-letter word involved. Oh, well, so much for being faithful, right?
I am Steve, and I am a cool thirty-seven years old. My wife is the same age, but as a sideline, I should admit that she keeps in better shape. We've been friends since lower classes, and we actually went steday when we were just twelve. I know a lot of people think that's too young, too immature an age to be thinking of such things. Fact of the matter is, we've been best friends and at that time, life was friendship, not sex. So by the time, we got around to 'doing it', we were actually making love to each other. (Admitted that it was at the back of a car, but for two people in love, it doesn't matter.) And when May got pregnant, it was with love that I proposed to her - the kid was the catalyst, a bonus in our lives.
With a sweet little baby girl in our arms, May and I went on our honeymoon. We named the little one after my late grandmother, Kezia. For the last twenty years, these two have been my world, my little planet.
So why was my wife thinking of opening up our marriage?
"Steve, I know marriage isn't about sex alone, but it is a part of it. Quite frankly, don't you think ours is a little too... soft, too easy?"
Yep, that's what twenty years of marriage had reduced making love every alternate day to - 'soft' and 'easy.' Granted, the excitement or anticipation of what sex held for us in the beginning had vanished, but wasn't it too early to throw in the condom? We knew each other better than we knew ourselves. We knew each other's bodies more than the other, we knew the needs before they were expressed, the words before they were spoken. She was right - the excitement had certainly been cut down by half. It was starting to be like watching reruns of old westerns; you wouldn't want to, but when you do, you'ld be satisfied for the moment.
"I - yes, honey." That was me.
"I know this is hard, but I think it's better for the two of us if we see," May paused before dropping the hammer, "Others. Think about it this way - we won't get so bored with each other that we'll end up separating, and we still manage to be together. Maybe just a fling or two - just to get that feeling of doing something naughty, like sneaking off or lying to each other about office hours."
"So you just want a little cock and a lot of thrill?" I asked, unconvinced. Keep cool, I told myself, and keep it short.
"More like a lot of cock and a little of thrill," my life laughed at her own joke. My expression would have done a statue proud, and she quickly sobered up again. "I didn't mean that! Maybe we should just forget the whole thing..." I could see that she was disappointed.
"Look, sweetheart," I began, reaching over and hugging her. "No matter what you do, I'll always love you."
"Me too." May murmured as she melted into my embrace.
"I know. And I have always respected your judgements - after all, you chose a fine man, ma'm." As I ran my hands over her tummy, May giggled. "I also want you to know that you are ireeplaceable in my life. AND, I agree with you. We don't have anything to look forward to in our sex except the afterglow, nowadays, right?"
"It's not that you aren't any good, Steve," May interjected. "It's just that we are too secure with each other."
"I know what you mean. And I am not going to argue with you, I know you are right." A silence spoke for ten seconds. "Alright, le us do it. You should be warned, however, that I have a lot of eligible females in my office."
"And I have a lot of male colleagues, so shut up." May laughed. "For God's sakes, don't start an orgy."
"Only if you won't," I countered. "But there is no way I am going to let you marry anyone else."
"Steve, I love you."
"I love you too, May."
"Kezia should never come to know of this, though."
I pondered this for a minute. "She's a bright kid, and she will put two and two together. All we have to do is tell her it's for the best, that it's for the family. She might buy it."
"In that case, telling her is your responsibility."
I groaned.
When May wnet on an office trip to Baltimore with one of her colleagues, I was pretty sure she had started on her part of the deal. My heart wasn't on the deal - an affair involved a lot more problems for a married man than for a married woman, accountability being one of them. It was too risky, I reasoned, for if I ever slept with a woman from work, she could sue me for harassment. With my luck, I would get a stranger pregnant on our night together and that would be the beginning of the end. Friends were too valuable to be risked. I decided then that I wasn't going to cheat on my wife. To make her better, though, I would just pretend that I was seeing someone on the side...
Kezia came home that evening. She was the perfect child, my second 'girlfriend', as I affectionately called her. She was beautiful, at 5"7' and with a head, unlike that of her ageig father, full of dark healthy hair. Her face was extremely friendly, and although it was only with academic paternal interest, I noticed that she had an incredibly well-proportioned body. She was in college, living just a couple of blocks away at her own apartment. This was basically a formality that we had insisted upon - my girl had wanted to finish her college at home, but my wife and I held out that she needed to learn to be on her own. As far as I knew, she managed just fine by herself.
I decided to make use of this opportunity of some time alone with her to explain the 'strategy' of her parents. On retrospect, I guess I was either warning her so that she wouldn't freak out if she saw her mother and anybody else, or putting the blame on her mother so that she wouldn't hold me responsible. Either way, I must say Kezia took it calmly.
"So, what you are saying is that you are having affairs - you and mom - but you are not going to get a divorce, right?" Kezia summed it up.
"No," I hastily corrected. "Your mother is having an affair. With my support, of course. As I told you, I have neither the interest nor the quest for adventure of seeking uncharted territories."
Kezia smiled, and that smile is one of the few reasons I hadn't looked outside my house for comfort. "You are so sweet, Daddy!" she said in a childlike voice, one that she knew I adored. "When you should be out shooting Mom's boyfriends with a shotgun, you are sitting here twiddling your thumbs. What you need, my man, is a hot woman, not the tele. What say you and I hit the singles bar tonight?" I launched a mock-punch at her, which she easily dodged.
However, as she moved away from my fist, her toe stubbed on the leg of the sofa. It knocked her off balance and she fell right into my arms. In spite of the pain she must've been feeling, Kezia cracked one of her trademark lines. "My hero," she purred in a romantic voice.
Both of us laughed. "Looks like I've got myself a mighty damn fine lady tonight," I said as I gingerly lifted her toe to my gaze. "How should I make use aw her now?"
My hillbilly accent was taking Kezia's mind off the pain. Her toe was badly stubbed, swollen to almost twice its normal size. I circled it with my thumb and index finger, and gently ran the hoop over the swell. Kezia was still in my lap - well, sort of, for her ass was on the sofa but she had her legs slung over mine. As I gently moved over her toe, Kezia gave a small moan. The reaction took me by surprise, which was not missed by Kezia. An embarassed look flushed her face.
"Sorry, Dad, it's just that," she explained reluctantly, "I have a foot fetish. I mean, my feet seem to be one of my most excitable organs in my body." I wanted to assure her that it was nothing to be ashamed of, when my gaze fell on her sweater. Even through the light woollen material, her erect nipples were poking through. She must be having ultra-sensitive toes, I thought absently as I massaged her injury. For some reason, I kept looking at the swell of her breasts for a couple of seconds more than would be deemed appropriate. It took an "Ahem!" from my daughter for me to focus on her face again.
"See anything interesting in the scenery, Daddy?" she asked naughtily. Thankfully, my fingers found one of her spots and I was saved from the ignominy of answering her. Or so I thought. "Ohh, Daddy, it feels so good!" Kezia exclaimed.
Five seconds passed. "You still haven't answered my question, Daddy."
So much for praying. "Don't be obscene, Kez, darling. Daddy was looking at the carpet."
"Yeah, sure," she snorted. Another tug on her toe. Another moan. Another question. "Does it bother you that I get so easily excited?" in a more serious tone.
"As a father, I should be. I mean, look at it this way - all anyone has to do to get inside your pants is just to tease your foot, and voila! I don't even want to think about the times when you go to the shoe-shop."
"Aw, come on, Dad, I ain't that bad, you know. Otherwise, we wouldn't be just talking, we would be rolling over each other. Man, what some fathers think of their perfectly harmless daughters!"
I couldn't suppress my laughter anymore, and Kezia joined me. A disturbing thought hit me at that moment - when Kezia had made that remark about me and her 'rolling over' my overactive imagination provided me with a picture of the two of us, in that position. Now that damn thing wouldn't leave my mind.
Neither of us spoke for about five minutes, save for a few moans by Kezia that only heightened my arousal. I couldn't even accept it - a hard 'un just because my daughter had made a few sexual innuendoes? Sick!
When the swelling had finally gone down, Kezia moved her legs away in one smooth motion and hugged me. "Thanks, Daddy," she cooed. "That was the best foot massage anyone has ever given me."
"Even better than the ones your boyfriends give you before the nookies?" I couldn't resist making that chheky remark.
"Daddy!" Kezia exclaimed. Then in a lower, conspiratorial tone, she added, "Between you and me, YEAH! But don't say this to anyone of my friends. If you do, I'll -"
"You will do nothing!" I challenged.
"Oh really! We will see about that!"
Before I had even had a chance to say something, Kezia was kissing me, her father, with all her force. Her lips were mashed against mine and her teeth started to examine my gum-line. There was a fleeting moment of responsibility before I gave in to the demand of the moment - I opened my mouth and allowed my tongue to venture out. Kezia's immediately attacked mine with a passion I hadn't known for a long time. Even as I shut out all further thoughts and warnings, Kezia had her hands locked behind my head. I gripped her waist and pulled her into me, savouring the soft and supple feel of her body. As she pressed against my chest, I could feel the nipples poking through the material.
Hell, I could even feel the heat off her legs!
To disappoint all of you, things did not go any further - for the moment. My daughter and I pulled away from the kiss, gasping for fresh air as we did so. There was no awkwardness, however, as we smiled at each other.
"Remind me to get an extra batch of mistletoe for Christmas this year," I quipped.
"Speaking of shopping, why don't we go to the mall, Dad? I need to buy some new clothes." Without even waiting for a reply, Kezia was pulling me up. "Get up, lazybones."
"Give your old man a rest, dear," I said, imitating a wheeze. "Don't you kids hang out at the mall with your friends?"
"Just think of it as spending some quality time with me. I am sure it will be worth more than the money you will be spending!" Kezia grabbed the carkeys and tossed them to me.
"How many credit cards should I take? Five, six, seven?"
"All of them!"
Even as I shook my head, I was walked to the car. This girl sure knew how to get her things done.
At the mall, Kezia and I walked hand-in-hand to the flashier section of fashion - in the layman's terms, the lingerie department. I gulped as I walked into one of the more ornate shops, lighted with an exotic glow that came from hidden lamps. The salesman was an impeccably dressed European, no doubt French. "Oui?" It always paid to greet your customers in a foreign language when you are selling fashion. I whispered to Kezia, "I thought you wanted to buy clothes."
"D-ah!" Kezia rolled her tongue at me. "Undergarments are clothes, too!"
The curtain was raised for one of the most erotic shows in my life. Piece after piece after piece of skimpy, transparent clothing, Kezia modeled them for me, twirling around to give me a good look. "What do you think?" she would say as she gave me a 360 view of her body. More often than not, these 'designers' covered only the barest of minimums, so by the time Kezia had picked her buy, I had a pretty good idea of how she looked naked. Problem was, it was even better than I had previously imagined - and my dick knew it too.
Kezia, after the one-hour show, bought just one item - a brown slip with garter and a g-string for a panty. To say that it barely covered her sensitive areas would be an understatement. To say that they barely bared all would be more befitting.
Angelica
- 04.07.2022
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