Husbands & Wives (& lovers): Par 3

by Anne Douglas

  Surprisingly ‑‑ he didn’t fool himself, he was forty-seven, and things weren’t as right-back-up-and-at-’em in the hard-on department as they once were ‑‑ his dick was still hard, and getting harder still as Emma worked her pussy up and down his length. She pushed up, her hands moving to his chest, and threw her head back, her eyes closed as she ground against him. Her breasts thrust out between her stiff arms, and he curled up so he could pull a reddened nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard, pulling her nipple with him as he fell back to the bed, letting the little red berry go with a pop before he pulled too far back. There was a yelp, and his wife jerked her head back and stared down at him, looking put out. Slowly, as she watched, he did it again, knowing full well it was only just enough pain to be pleasurable.

  His hands had moved to her hips when she’d risen over him ‑‑ perfect for easily reaching around to lay a sharp slap to her buttock. She hissed at him, yet she didn’t stop him when he left a matching print burning on her other cheek.

  “If you’re going to ride me, love, do it right.” Emma gave a slight snort of indignation, but he chose to ignore it because she did as he asked and rose up. Her hand held his shaft in place as she slowly sank back down onto him. She fit around him so snug, so hot and slick ‑‑ perfect. She always had been.

  He nearly didn’t hear the click of the bedroom door closing. Other than he and Emma, the room was empty ‑‑ Silas had made a quiet exit, leaving the two of them to their moment. He’d been prepared to wake to Silas on the other side of their bed.

  Aaron silently sent his thanks to his friend for his exquisite judgment of the moment as he rolled them, tucking his wife under him, enjoying the way her hips cradled him, and took control.

  “It’s just us, love.” He bent his head down and nipped at her earlobe. “Now it’s my turn to play.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sunlight streamed through the wide dining room windows and warmed Silas’s back as he sipped at his tea and contemplated the previous evening.

  Now he knew why Aaron had been able to say so easily that a stray hand, limb, or brush of a hard cock wouldn’t worry him too much ‑‑ he was so damn dominant in the bedroom he had no reason to get squicky over something that was just plain old inevitable. It was just part of the process, so why be scared of it? Aaron had no doubts whatsoever about his sexuality, Silas was sure. It also explained why he’d been so shocked about the swinging. Sharing just wasn’t a dominant man’s idea of fun, although Silas was positive Aaron had enjoyed it.

  “Mornin’.” Feet shuffled over the tiled kitchen floor, and Aaron reached for the switch of the electric jug. Fresh out of the shower, his hair dripped, and he wore a thick toweling robe.

  “It’s hot; I just made mine.” Silas lifted his cup so Aaron could see the steam wafting up.

  “Excellent.” Aaron had been reaching for the electric jug of hot water, but changed his tack and reached for another mug instead. “I’ll get one ready for Emma, too.” He chuckled. “It’ll be a turnaround; she’s usually handing me my tea and telling me it’s time to wake up, not the other way around.”

  Someone was sure in a good mood. Come to think of it, so was he.

  Aaron caught him smiling. “Enjoyed yourself, huh?”

  “Damn straight.” Slept like a baby after he’d spent a while remembering his wife and how much he’d loved her, knowing that she would’ve given him a kick in the arse for even thinking of feeling guilty.

  Aaron dumped his teabag into the trash and came over to the table, taking a seat adjacent to him at the square table. They sipped in silence for a while, just enjoying the warm sun. Silas was warm and sated and could’ve happily curled up on the mat right beside the cat and basked in the sunshine.

  “I hadn’t thought it’d be as arousing as it turned out to be.” Aaron’s statement was out of the blue, but not unexpected, all things considered.

  “I told you it could be…invigorating.”

  “Yeah, it was that.” Aaron fingered the edge of his mug, and Silas waited, knowing more was coming, just unsure of the direction. He’d risked a pretty damn important friendship last night, and he hoped it wasn’t about to turn sour.

  “I’m going to do my best to make sure our communication doesn’t break down like this again. You were right. Last night did help me remember all the things I love so much about my wife, and I won’t be letting my own stupidity get the better of me in the future.” Aaron gave a laid-back shrug that didn’t fool Silas in the least. “Maybe not right away…but if Emma wanted to, I might let her convince me to do it again.”

  Relief flooded through him. “You have very sexy wife, Aaron. I’d feel privileged.”

  “And so you should, you greedy man.” Emma’s laugh made both men turn to the doorway. Her face glowed in the bright morning light. She looked renewed, happy, and not at all like she’d spent half the night awake being fucked three ways from Sunday.

  Aaron rose and went to his wife and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her long and hard. They broke apart, and Emma staggered a little, obviously overtaken by the depth of Aaron’s passion.

  “Wow, what do I have to do to get greeted that way every morning?” Things south had perked up a little as Silas had watched the two of them.

  Aaron’s eyebrow went up, and his smile turned to a leer. “Why, you offering?”

  Silas’s shock at the innuendo must have showed as both Emma and Aaron broke into laughter.

  Emma came over and wiggled her way onto his lap. “I also enjoyed myself, Silas.” She leaned in and rather than her usual peck to the cheek, she slid her lips over his in a sensual caress that said thank you and hello, handsome all at once.

  “Mmmm, I won’t complain about that for a good morning.”

  Emma’s arm went around his shoulders and she snuggled into the crook of his neck. “You know, we don’t have to say the evening’s over, if you don’t want to…we could have another hour or so.”

  Aaron stepped close, slid Emma’s robe off her shoulder, and lowered his mouth to speak against her skin. “I could go for that.”

  Epilogue

  Emma slumped face-first into the bed and wondered if this was it ‑‑ Aaron had finally killed her with great sex. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and she took great gasping breaths as she fought to regain her equilibrium. Blood thundered in her ears, and she couldn’t quite feel her fingers and toes over the exquisite, tender pain of the orgasm that still hummed in her belly. Death by orgasm…what a way to go. I really hope Aaron remembers to take the scarf off my wrists before the ambulance gets here.

  Nimble fingers worked at her wrists and released the delicate scarf holding her hands at her back. Gentle hands massaged the tension along her arms before moving them to a more natural position, tucking them easily under her prone body. Her spineless flesh offered no resistance as her husband rearranged her to his satisfaction; he curled himself around her and held her close once he had her settled on her side.

  “You okay, Em?”

  She heard a little concern in Aaron’s voice, but all that came out in reply was a clumsy “errk” that really didn’t convey her extreme pleasure in the slightest.

  A soft stroke trickled down her neck and along her shoulder as Aaron ran his fingertips over her skin. Lips pressed against the sensitive crook of her neck and a tongue swirled over her skin.

  “Mmm, salty,” whispered over the dampness Aaron’s tongue left behind and raised goose bumps. “Was it too much, Em?”

  “Oh, no…perfect.” It wasn’t stunning conversation, but it seemed to reassure Aaron well enough.

  It hadn’t been that they were doing anything way-out-there kinky ‑‑ Emma didn’t think that a scarf and her husband’s cunning tongue counted as heavy bondage ‑‑ it had just been a wondrous combination of many things. She’d woken at two a.m. to find herself spread facedown over a pile of pillows with her hands bound behind her back and her husband’s tongue working magic between her thighs. With his wide
shoulders between her legs, she’d had no way of moving; she’d been deliciously trapped.

  Aaron had driven her nearly insane, working her clit over and over, his fingers stroking in and out of her pussy. Then his fingers were gone, his cock, so deliciously hard and hot, replacing them. But that hadn’t been the end of it; Aaron’s powerful thrusts had pressed her into the mattress, his balls slapping against her clit at just the right angle, and his oh so nimble fingers dancing at the rosette of her bottom. There was a momentary cool amongst the heat, and she heard the thump of the lube bottle dropping to the ground. His fingers played, making her hole slick as he slowly opened her, all the while keeping up his thrusts into her core. It always amazed her how coordinated Aaron could be, concentrating on the half a dozen things he did to her body at once, playing her like a fine instrument, all the while still finding his own explosive release.

  Then came the moment when he’d pulled free of her pussy and shifted, pressing instead against her relaxed back passage, sliding in with care, making sure to go slow as he worked his cock back and forth, pressing ever deeper with each stroke. He’d tugged on the binding around her wrists, lifting her chest and shoulders up off the bed as he pulled her back into his body, seating his cock fully.

  The strain on her shoulders had been minimal, as Aaron had carefully placed the pillows she lay over, but the sensation of his cock in her bottom as she relaxed into his hold had been exquisite. Teamed with his rasped, dirty, sexy commentary of how she tasted and felt around his cock, how she teased him with her pink, juicy, plump sex and the tight rosette of her arse, she’d never really stood a chance. She’d gone from half asleep to orgasmic languor to heart-stopping, breath-stealing, scream-inducing orgasm with her mind half gone and no hope of finding it again before morning. If she couldn’t remember how to count in the morning, Emma knew right where to place the blame ‑‑ her husband.

  “Em?”

  “Yeah?” She was more asleep than awake, but forced her eyes open as it sounded like Aaron wanted to talk about something.

  “Will you miss it?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “It” was Silas and the occasional threesomes they’d shared over the last fourteen months. Their shared evenings hadn’t been regular or frequent, but they had been very enjoyable for all of them, and Emma had even gotten to experience the act of double penetration. Both men had laughed the next morning when she’d gingerly sat at the kitchen table and declared that while it had been pleasurable, once had been enough, thank you.

  But tonight hadn’t been one of those nights; in fact, they’d had two people to dinner ‑‑ Minelle and Silas. A few months previously, Silas had surprised them all by asking Minelle, Emma’s good friend and confirmed gal-about-town, out on a date. Minelle couldn’t be classed as a spinster with two major relationships in her past, but she’d never married.

  Something between the two had clicked, and since then they had often been in each other’s company ‑‑ enough so that the previous night they’d declared they were moving in together. A pretty big step for Silas and Minelle both.

  She and Aaron couldn’t have been happier for their good friends; each really suited the person the other was at this point in their life. It would be a good, strong partnership as far as Emma could see, and there would be no way Silas would risk that relationship by continuing their occasional threesomes.

  “Yes and no?”

  Emma turned in her husband’s arms to face him. She looked up from sleepy, hooded, satiated eyes to Aaron’s face. She swept her fingers along his jaw and reached up to leave a soft kiss on his stubbled chin. “I’ll miss the closeness with Silas, the excitement of wondering what the pair of you had planned for me, but then I won’t miss it at all because I’ve got you. And our time with Silas, and what we just had between us tonight, it doesn’t compare. It helped us find this again, but it’s the connection between us that I want, what I need. Not two men in my bed, not Silas ‑‑ though I love him to bits. Just you, Aaron, just us.”

  Her wonderful, commanding, generous husband looked back at her with his love shining in his eyes ‑‑ eyes that sparkled in the moonlight with the tears he valiantly blinked back before he kissed her, slow and sweet, just like he had the day they married. The kiss worth a perfect ten.

  When they ran out of breath, her must-have-everything-just-so husband bodily rearranged her, and snuggled back into her body. Emma sighed with the weariness of an extremely, well-loved woman and relaxed back, letting her spine dissolve again in the warmth of Aaron’s embrace.

  Quiet, lighthearted words came out of the black of the night. “You know, Minelle has a certain something about her…she’s got that Sex in the City thing going on. If Silas asked, I might be convinced into a foursome.”

  Emma snickered, even as her elbow landed softly in her husband’s belly. “Only in your dreams, mister.”

  Anne Douglas

  2006 was my break out year. Yup, I escaped from jail and the suckers haven’t caught me yet.

  Now wouldn’t that make a great hook line for a novel?

  Seriously, 2006 was the year I first put pen to paper, then sold those chicken scratchings to Loose Id, who was very wise and realized they had a winner on their hands! (Oy, ego! Back away from the chocolate jar). And that, as they say, was just the beginning.

  I’m a transplant, like most of the rest of Florida, although I came to the Sunshine Peninsular via Auckland, New Zealand. Many people ask me why I left, which is a tricky question to answer. I’ll blame it on my husband and Kiwi wanderlust ‑‑ I think it’s a living on an Island in the middle of nowhere thing.

  I am an avid dedicated addicted a fast reader who has much too much time on her hands to read, and a fascination for stories with an erotic twist to them. My girlfriends all joked about how much I read and the smutty content, so in a way they dared me to take up a pen and write myself ‑‑ after all they were the ones who exclaimed I should be able to write the stuff out in my sleep as I read so much of it!

  Now, of course, they get a kick out of the conversation stopper “I have this friend, she comes from New Zealand and has this cool accent, and she writes porn!” I’ve tried over and over to get them to replace porn with erotic romance, but it’s not working ‑‑ though I do hear them bandying around “Chick Porn” now. *sigh* I guess that’s closer at least.