Taming Terri (Terri Trilogy Book 3)

by Ben Boswell

  Put it in, she begs. But he knows it will be even better the longer he makes her wait. He works her pussy like a pro, tracing her labia, dipping his thumb into her wetness, circling her clit, until she’s moaning and shivering. He replaces his thumb with the head of his cock, smiling as he sees it begin to glisten with her juices.

  A sudden thrust. She gasps and swallows hard. He revels in her hot, wet, tightness. He thrusts in again, deeper, and all the patience pays off as she explodes, her pussy clutching at his cock rhythmically. He drapes himself over her writhing body. They kiss wetly as he begins to fuck her… to fuck my wife deep and hard.

  ***

  After I cleaned myself off, I tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Fevered images that turned into surprisingly vivid dreams. Had the routine of Brian lulled me, so that a new man in the picture touched a nerve? Was it that she’d left her rings behind? Was it the distance between us? Or the sense I got immediately that Dr. Avetis Termernian was somehow an even more serious threat?

  In my distress I saw it all. I saw her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her hard with his fat cock, their tongues intertwined in deep, soul kisses. I saw her swallowing his prick into her mouth, coaxing him to life so he could fuck her again and again. In the Jacuzzi, the jets bubbling, Terri riding him enthusiastically. Then back on the bed, his hands palming her perfect ass, as he rammed her from behind.

  But more than anything, I saw Terri’s face. Her beautiful face. Smiling. Moaning. Grimacing. Cheeks flush and shiny. Eyes-rolling. Lips pursed. All the various ways I’d seen her come over the years. Hard. Tender. Relieved. Overwhelmed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I knew she wouldn’t be up when I woke up… well, got up. I’m not sure anything I did that night qualified as sleep. I was a zombie as I got the kids off to school.

  In the office, I checked my watch. 10:00am my time. 8:00am hers. She had a day of workshops, but I wondered if she’d attend. Or would she instead choose to remain in bed with her new lover, fucking away the day?

  Just as I was about resigned to that idea, and to the fact that I would be obsessing over it all day rather than getting any work done, the phone buzzed in my pocket. When I saw it was Terri, my hands began to shake uncontrollably.

  “Good morning,” I said. My voice was high, tight.

  She laughed. “Good morning to you,” she squeaked back, mimicking my tone.

  I cleared my throat. “Um, so, how was it?”

  She laughed again. “You mean dinner? I had a lovely seared grouper and –”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do?” she asked with mock innocence.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Oh, you mean the fucking? Did he make me come with his big, fat cock?”

  Now, I couldn’t answer.

  “Bill, you still there?” She sounded amused. Bitch.

  “Yes,” I choked out.

  “Is that what you meant? You want to know about the S-E-X?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t answer immediately. I felt this immense pressure to fill the void, but I couldn’t think of what words to say.

  Finally, she chuckled. “Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but nothing happened.”

  “I’m not disappointed,” I replied flatly. But was I?

  She sensed my ambiguity. She laughed again.

  “I’m not,” I insisted. “It’s just… what happened? Did he cancel out?”

  “No, nothing like that. We had a lovely dinner. He’s really funny and charming.”

  Fucker.

  “I’m surprised. Playing hard to get isn’t your usual game.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t playing hard to get. I would gladly have sucked on his big –”

  “How do you know he’s big?” I interrupted.

  She laughed. “Sadly, I don’t. Wishful thinking, I guess. Also I know you like it.”

  “I don’t….” I muttered softly, not even trying to convince her of it.

  “He,” she continued, sounding definitely amused, “wants to take it slow. He says he likes me, and –”

  “You didn’t tell him you were married?”

  “Of course not. That was the whole point of leaving my rings behind.”

  I had thought that was meant to send a signal to me, but now I saw that maybe it was about making it more fun for her. Or maybe it was both?

  “Terri, aren’t you leading him on?”

  She ignored my question. “It might be interesting to take a lover who is interested in more than just getting his rocks off.”

  “I thought that was the attraction? Men who –”

  “Just want to screw? Brian has that covered. And variety is the spice of life….”

  I didn’t quite know how to respond. I had accepted the idea of my wife having casual sex with other men; it would be weird to object to her spending time with a man who wanted to romance her first.

  “Bill? You still there?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “If you’re getting antsy, maybe I could….”

  “Terri –”

  “I did order room service for breakfast just now. If the waiter is cute, maybe I’ll give him a special tip. What do you think, Bill?”

  Before I could answer, I heard a sharp knock over the phone.

  “There he is,” she chimed. “I have to go.”

  She hung up.

  ***

  I didn’t quite bite on that one.

  I had a brief vision of my wife going to open the door, draped in a loosely closed bathrobe. Naked beneath, every movement teasing the handsome, Hispanic waiter in a different way. A glimpse of nipple, a flash of gash. Following him into the room too closely, in his personal space in a way that would strike him as both inappropriate and alluring. Leaning forward to sign the receipt, her ample breasts dangling, on display, taking longer than necessary, aware of his hungry gaze and the growing bulge in his pants. Eye contact. His embarrassed expression. Her smile as she drops to her knees….

  I stopped myself. It was almost as if she were right. As if I really did want it to happen. Did I?

  I felt like I was peering through a heavily fogged window. I could see movement on the other side. Broad shapes, shifting colors. But I couldn’t make out any details. Odd to think that my own mind could be so opaque even to direct questioning.

  I let my mind drift back to Terri and the waiter. The bathrobe peeled off her shoulders, exposing her gorgeous breasts. Her full lips sliding up and down his thick shaft as she fondled his heavy balls.

  It was exciting. A turn on, even when I cranked it up. Now on her hands and knees, taking it hard from behind. Now on her back, legs over his powerful shoulders, eyes closed, moaning as he plunged again and again into her wet pussy.

  I loved seeing her like that, even in my own imagination. Lusty, hungry, fearless. I wanted her to always be like that. I knew she could be. I’d seen it, more times now than I could easily remember.

  The thing that I couldn’t be sure about, though, was how important the other men were in my fantasy, because that was the thing… when I fantasized about Terri, it was always with another man.

  So what was my real kink? The idea of my wife as a lusty vixen? Or the thought of another man using my wife as his personal slut?

  I tried to imagine a scenario that would allow me to distinguish between the two options, but when I thought about her in that hotel room in California, it was a blending of the two. There she was, moaning and gasping, playing with her own hard nipples, but there she was also, impaled and bouncing up and down on a wildly endowed, muscular stud of a man.

  ***

  When she called that evening, my time, to catch up with the kids, she also informed me that she had another date that evening with Avi.

  “Third date,” she noted suggestively.

  “I thought you only met him yesterday.”

  “Lunch, dinner, and now another dinner,” she explained. “Even a gentleman who wants to take it slow
is going to try to get into my pants, right?”

  “You’re wearing pants?” I snarked.

  She laughed. Had I been trying to make a joke or was I just trying to pretend it didn’t affect me?

  “Just an expression, silly. No, I’ll wear a dress.”

  “And no panties.”

  She chuckled. “Need to plan on easy access. I have a feeling that when he gets revved up, he’s not going to be really patient.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Wishful thinking probably,” she admitted. “Did I mention he has really thick fingers?”

  I groaned.

  She laughed. “I’ll text you if anything exciting happens….” But after a pause, she changed her mind. “Actually, no. I think it’ll be more fun if I just wait to tell you once I get home tomorrow evening. Will you and the kids be at the airport to pick me up?”

  I looked over at the kids in the other room. I knew they would insist upon it. “Of course.”

  “Great! I love you, honey,” she said. “Have a good night, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Whatever else was going on between us, Terri maintained an uncanny ability to push my buttons. For good… or ill.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There she was, turning down the corridor that led from the arrival gates to where we were waiting for her. Annabelle shrieked. Braden broke from my grip and tore off towards his mother. She broke into a big smile and bent down to hug him into her arms. Just behind her, I could see the TSA agent’s gaze shift to her jean-clad ass.

  Or was that just me, pathologically sexualizing everything about my wife? No. He was checking her out. As I’m sure every other man she came across had. Even casually dressed, she stood out. That long blond hair, the tight denim hugging her hard, round ass, the swell of her breasts in that long-sleeved, charcoal grey, ribbed tee.

  Annabelle joined her, and then all three walked over to me hand in hand, Braden awkwardly drawing her roller bag behind him. Terri broke free long enough to give me a hug, a kiss on the cheek. Even coming off the plane, she smelled lovely, fresh, citrus. Her lips tender, yet warm, a hint at passion even in the most prosaic of greetings.

  The kids ran ahead on the moving walkway toward the exit. We had just a few moments to ourselves. I looked over at her.

  “So?” I asked.

  She grinned at me and waited until we’d almost reached the kids before answering. “It was unbelievable.”

  My heart sank and my dick rose. I was equally perturbed and gratified. I felt a surge of anger, self-righteous and self-serving. Lust too, both thrilling and shameful.

  In the car ride home I was pleased that Terri kept the kids occupied by asking them to recount all the details of her time away. She mentioned that she’d brought back presents for them.

  “I have a surprise for you too,” she said, tapping my thigh.

  I immediately pictured what that would be: a load of come filling her pussy, dripping out into her panties, deposited there by Avi just as she walked out the door.

  It was already late and we hurried through dinner and then kids’ bedtime routines. Indeed, even the fact of taking care of the children while half-mad with the distraction of imagining Terri’s next revelation had itself become routine… or at least as commonplace as such a thing could be.

  It would begin slowly. Teases and hints. A double-entendre. A sudden revelation. Searing. Stunning. A new boundary shattered. Although… what was left?

  In, what, eighteen months, so much had become commonplace. Sex with another man. Men. In public. On film. Anal. With another woman. Bondage. Sex toys.

  It was one of those weirdly masochistic trains of thought. It was as if I were tempting myself to imagine my wife in more and more depraved and dark scenarios. And why? To punish myself by drawing up these images? To condemn her by imagining her debauched? Or was it what I secretly wanted?

  I swung back and forth in my assessments of the situation. Sometimes, I felt a grim satisfaction at my own generosity in allowing her to explore all of her most secret and twisted desires. Other times, I wondered if my own weakness was enabling what often felt like an ever-accelerating spiral into some abyss.

  And always, I feared the worst, which I defined as losing her, though I wasn’t always sure if losing her meant us splitting apart or if it meant instead losing her across some ill-defined, but no less real, divide where she was no longer mine, but instead given over to them.

  I was waiting for her in the bedroom, stomach churning as she finished putting the kids to bed. I glanced over at her bedside table. Her engagement and wedding rings were still there. For some reason that felt more dangerous and threatening than knowing she was having sex with another man.

  I heard her gently close the door to Braden’s room, and then her soft footsteps on the hardwood floor in the hallway. I was suddenly uncomfortable. Should I be sitting up? Reclined on the bed? Standing? Everything felt awkward.

  She entered our bedroom, took one look at me, and broke into a wide grin.

  “You look like you want to claw your way out of your skin,” she said.

  She walked over and sat beside me, taking my hand in hers.

  “This is hard,” I said.

  “So –”

  “If it is so hard, I could tell you to stop,” I interrupted.

  She shrugged and nodded.

  I began to reply, “That’s –”

  “Up to me,” she broke in.

  Now I shrugged and nodded. The same old impasse. She bit her tongue rather than argue with me about it. It is what it is.

  “How was your third date?” I asked

  There was a barely concealed venom in my voice. And also excitement. I knew Terri could sense both.

  “You think I’ve hit the wall?” she asked. “I’m not really a spring chicken anymore.”

  I looked at the beautiful, sensuous not-even-35-year-old woman beside me. “Huh? Of course not. You’re gorgeous.”

  She laughed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to fish for compliments.” She paused. “I got plenty from Avi.”

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do either,” she said cryptically.

  I felt a jolt of annoyance. “Terri, what are you talking about?”

  She grinned and I felt like an idiot for letting her push my buttons so easily.

  “Well, Bill, it’s like this. He gave me a lot of compliments, but what I was really hoping for was some…” she paused before providing the inevitable conclusion to her thought, “…cock.”

  I shuddered.

  “He… you… didn’t?”

  She shook her head. “I guess I could have asked for it outright, but that does seem a little desperate.”

  “A little,” I acknowledged.

  “I don’t mind begging for it as part of a game, but I don’t really want to beg for it. And anyway, I think I was pretty clear about the fact that I was up for…” Another pause. “… anything.”

  I gulped.

  She continued. “Most men in that situation have gotten the message.”

  I thought again of her skill at flirting, the way she orchestrated every glance, gesture, and utterance to make clear her intentions. Just the way she looked at a man with a thin, amused smile, lips turned up at the corners, eyes luminous through a veil of eyelashes. Her fingernails on his forearm. Leaning forward in a cleavage-enhancing pose. It wasn’t a message. It was a fire alarm, loud and insistent and unmistakeable.

  “Maybe he’s gay,” I suggested.

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “So –”

  “He invited me to spend a weekend with him away.”

  “Oh….”

  She turned to face me, and I could see the excitement in her eyes.

  “I was thinking,” she began. “That you could come with.”

  “He’s bi?” I asked, puzzled.

  She was confused as well for a moment. “Oh. No�
��. Well, I don’t think so. I didn’t mean it like, you know, the three of us would go off together. I was thinking more that we could all be in the same place, and –”

  “I could watch you two?”

  “Well,” she replied. “I was thinking more than watch. I thought it might be sort of fun if I was with him, and then I could periodically get away and report back, if you know what I mean.”

  Like everything else, the idea was both hot and disturbing. My wife wanted to spend a romantic weekend with a new potential lover, and she was suggesting that I be close at hand so I could get regular personal updates before she went back to him. Is that what I wanted? Sitting by the pool and watching her with another man. Seeing him applying lotion to her back and legs, lingering on her thighs. Seeing them leave together, hand in hand. A 2:00am knock on my door. A fiery, quick reunion. Sloppy seconds and then adding my own load to his before sending her back for more.

  “I don’t –”

  “I know it sounds weird, Bill, but me just going out and fooling around with other men can’t continue. You need to be a part of it somehow, and….”

  Or we could stop. But I didn’t say that. I couldn’t say that. Instead, I nodded.

  “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By the end of the week, I was actually eager for the trip. She’d seen Brian every day since her return from Los Angeles. Lunchtime quickies, an afternoon session on his day off, and even a night spent at his place with Cyn. Worst of all, she’d gone ahead with the tattoo. Just as well-done as the first, it was a sexy devil, placed meaningfully high on her left shoulder blade, close enough to whisper wicked thoughts into her ear. I was left hoping that some time with Avi might break her of what seemed to be a growing obsession with Brian and his oversized cock.