Wives with Benefits: Volume Two

by Max Sebastian

  I timed my own release to coincide with her climax, trying to imagine what it might look like if my wife were to embrace her inner bisexual -- and with a beauty like Ellie. Wow. But as my imagination let loose, it seemed to me more of a turn-on to picture my wife sleeping with the French girl than simply to imagine myself sleeping with her in Ana’s place. The turn-on to me was for my wife’s transgression, not the thought of my own.

  4

  It seemed disappointing that Ana had no more ‘dates’ planned with Ellie, but I had to take the positives. And Ellie was going to be there at Ana’s lectures, she’d said. That had to demonstrate continuing interest.

  Over the weekend, things seemed to get back to normal. Monday, I came home late after finally resolving the English department’s little problem, and Ana had been to her regular gym session, and I didn’t even feel the need to question her about whether Ellie had been there -- or indeed, whether the pretty French girl had been at any of her lectures that day. Let it lie, was my policy, though I was itching to know whether there was any ounce of anything continuing between the two of them.

  Tuesday and Wednesday passed, and I found myself no longer really thinking about it. Much.

  Then Thursday evening Ana was at the gym again, and I took the time to move us lock, stock and barrel back into the master bedroom again -- an exciting milestone, as far as our little house went. At the end of the day, it probably wouldn’t have happened, or at least not this soon, if I hadn’t been distracted by Ana’s little dalliance with her new French friend.

  A little drained after moving furniture from our garage and some from our spare bedroom to complete the master layout, I collapsed on the bed as I heard Ana return from her workout.

  She came up to find me, since I wasn’t down there in the kitchen making food -- and when she saw the state of our master bedroom, she let out an excited squeal and launched herself on me.

  “We’re moved in?” she asked in disbelief. We rolled about on the bed, grinning like fools, our lips finding each other quickly enough.

  It was great to be back in the master bedroom. The extra space, the view over our little garden out back, the en suite bathroom right there where we needed it.

  “What’s for supper?” she asked, as our little wrestling match concluded.

  “Dominos,” I said, an instant response to realizing it was my turn to cook and I’d prepared absolutely nothing.

  Ana picked herself up off the bed and went into the en suite to turn on the shower as I grabbed my smartphone from my bedside table to order our usual pizza with a few touches of the Dominos app. Then I watched her peel off her sweatpants and top to reveal a tiny pair of skin-tight yellow yoga shorts and a white top that only just seemed to cover her white sports bra. God. It wasn’t much more cover than a bikini.

  It made me realize how her outfits had changed in the past months, I guessed as her confidence had grown through the progress she made at the gym. Now she looked incredible, and her fashion response seemed to be to show it off as much as possible.

  “What?” she asked, though with a beaming smile, as she caught me staring.

  “Was Ellie at the gym tonight?” I asked her as she disappeared back into the bathroom to test the temperature of the shower.

  “Uh-huh,” she called from the en suite.

  “Did she see you in that outfit?”

  “I guess.”

  “Did you wear it to impress her?”

  My teasing drew her back from the bathroom, whereupon she shook her hands to flick water all over me -- it did make me jump, but I was laughing at my ability to rile her with a mention of her new friend.

  “Are you jealous, finally, Mr Jordan?” she asked, splashing me again though her hands weren’t so wet this time.

  “Not even a little,” I grinned, and reached for her, grabbing her hands to pull her over to the bed. “You know I’m happy for you to see as much of her as you like.”

  “Oh, so you are having those perverted thoughts about the two of us, then?”

  We wrestled on the bed a little more, only this time I was trying to attack her with kisses, and she was trying to hold me off as though she didn’t want every single touch of my lips. Ana was a lot stronger these days, and my lack of comparable exercise meant she could get the upper hand over me.

  She was pulling my t-shirt off over my head, and kissing me even before she’d got it off me, and when it was off she melted into me, no longer pretending any kind of reluctance, and our hands were sweeping all over each other as we fell back onto the bed, sucking on each others’ lips. As we kissed, I breathed in her gentle scent of her remaining perfume and that faint mustiness from her work out. I kissed her neck and tasted the faint saltiness of perspiration.

  Ana grinned as her fingers traced the shape of my hard cock through my jeans, and started to caress it.

  Unsolicited, she said, “You know she was at my lecture yesterday?”

  I didn’t know if she was just role-playing to get me going, but it worked. I was throbbing inside my pants.

  “I figured she’d be at one of your lectures this week,” I said, attempting a casual tone.

  “Today was her second,” she said, brushing a stray strand of her cocoa hair out of her face, behind her ear, as she continued to kiss me.

  I was on fire -- she was so sensational to behold in my arms, her trim figure, her curves, her soft-as-peaches skin.

  “Sounds like she’s still interested in you, then,” I said.

  Ana started fumbling with my belt and then my fly, and broke from our kiss to say, “She wants to have dinner with me on Saturday night.”

  I didn’t know if it was the truth, or if she was now role-playing to get me pumped up. But I figured even if it was only role-playing, I should act as though it were real, and respond as she wanted -- with a full, swollen cock ready for her enjoyment.

  “Sounds like a date,” I said as she managed to force open my pants and retrieve my stiff shaft.

  She gave a little shrug. “Said she just wants to thank me for helping with her paper.”

  Now that made me excited. If she were role-playing, why would she want to downplay the potential of dinner with Ellie on Saturday night?

  “I bet I know how she’d really like to thank you,” I said with a grin.

  She pulled off me, but didn’t seem goaded by my teasing. “You just think your dirty thoughts, Mister,” she said, “and I’ll just enjoy the results.”

  Then she ducked down and took my hardness inside her hot, wet mouth. I lay back and moaned at the sensational experience she could give me with her mouth, no longer capable of coming up with wisecracks to tease her about her upcoming date with a woman, I was helpless under her control.

  Ana was similarly focused on giving me pleasure, and once again I started to get the impression she was trying to prove something -- but more so to herself than to me. The way she would withdraw from me other then her hand, slowly and rhythmically jacking my shaft, so that she might gaze upon my hard cock. The way she licked my hardness so diligently from base to tip, the way she stroked my cock all over her face, her neck, her breasts as though marking herself in some way as my territory.

  Twice I urged her up, so that I might reciprocate, or perhaps slide inside her pussy -- but twice she gave a slight shake of her head and continued. She had an serious expression that wasn’t quite normal for Ana -- something was clearly bugging her, but I was hardly in a position just then to ask what it was. Particularly as she began a sustained assault on my cock, swirling her tongue around its tip ferociously before engulfing me in her hot mouth once again, taking me deeper than she ever had before.

  Squeezing the base of my cock in her fist, this time she did not let go, sucking me hard, gripping me with her lips as she plunged down on me each time.

  I stroked her hair, tried to encourage her to slow down, to take a break, to let me make her feel good -- but again, she declined, continuing with unusual focus and dedication. All I coul
d do was let go and enjoy it, and when the time came, warn her my end was nigh.

  “I’m coming honey... I’m coming...”

  Still she did not let go, as though not only did I have no choice in the matter, but I had no right to think I did. This cock was hers -- and my come was hers by right. She held me tight and pumped me with her hand as she kept up the forceful attack with her mouth.

  It was hot, I guess, seeing how much she craved my cock, how she demanded my come in her mouth as though it were the miraculous antidote to some awful condition she had -- and yet the strangeness of her sudden change in attitude took away from the enjoyment, somewhat.

  I still came, strongly, feeling the orgasm blossom in my loins as my semen erupted inside her mouth, and I could still appreciate it as Ana swallowed furiously as each spurt of cream jetted into her throat. But there was an uncertainty tempering it all.

  We were both silent as she cleaned the last few drops from my tip, stroking my softening cock gently.

  Then she said, “I should take a shower,” and picked herself up, giving me an expression that said simply I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it.

  5

  My God. Ana, like many women I’ve encountered in my thirty-something history, could change her mind and her mood in a split second. Sometimes, there was no notice period whatsoever -- one minute she was content and bubbly and perfectly joyous, and then she might be down and miserable the next.

  Often, experience suggested to me that if she didn’t give any signals suggesting she wanted to talk about something that was bugging her, it was wise for me to let it lie until she was ready to talk.

  I was more than a little confused that this latest about-turn in attitude had come right in the middle of sex, but I wasn’t going to keep her from showering, I wasn’t going to badger her until she was willing to talk about what was going on in her head. Had it been something I’d done or said? I had to think it unlikely on this occasion. Had she remembered something from work that she’d forgotten to do? Perhaps.

  When we hit the sack, and she still wasn’t in the right place to share in whatever was niggling her, I got the faint impression that whatever it was might be connected to her dinner date with Ellie on Saturday.

  Friday night came and went, with no reference to either Ellie or the dinner appointment. I wasn’t going to ask her anything about it -- the silence regarding that particular subject seemed to confirm to me that it was the dinner that was on Ana’s mind.

  Saturday arrived, and when I woke up first and finished my breakfast, I decided to get on board my recent achievements and do some more decorating -- this time, the dining room that presently had a main role as a storage depot for various items we hadn’t managed to unpack in the year we’d been living there. With dustsheets down to protect the boxes and the floor underneath, I began painting, and Ana joined me not long after.

  It seemed to me that the mindless act of painting allowed her to think, and to deal with what was coming up.

  It was another two hours or so before she suddenly raised what was bothering her.

  “Is it a date, I’m going on tonight?” she said. It was a surprising question, and suddenly made me regret that I’d ever teased her about Ellie’s dinner invitation being some kind of date.

  “I’m sure it’s just dinner, right?” I said, trying to soften the meaning of it all, play it down. “Just a friendly thank you for helping her.”

  Ana sighed. “I’m not sure that’s all it is.”

  “You’re worried? You could probably call and cancel -- ”

  “I... I don’t think I’m worried... “ Her apprehensive expression didn’t quite concur with her statement. “I am...kinda looking forward to it...”

  “You’re frightened she’s going to jump you in some darkened alley?”

  “No,” she shook her head, and resumed painting. “I told you -- she’s really nice.”

  “Something’s bugging you.”

  She stopped mid-brush stroke. “It’s me,” she said after a long pause. “I think I’m worried about how I’m going to act. I... it’s hard to explain...”

  I continued painting as though my casual attitude might calm her down, show her there was nothing to worry about. I said, “I’m sure she’s been knocked back a few times in her life -- she might be pretty, but she’ll know how to handle it.”

  “No, it’s not that -- “

  “She knows you’re married, she’ll understand -- “

  “No, that’s not it...” Ana sighed again, and dropped the paintbrush into the pot at her feet. “When I knew she was coming to some of my lectures this week... I was nervous. I’m never nervous about lectures.”

  “No, you’re not really a nervous person.”

  She said, “I’d be scanning the rows, looking for her. If she wasn’t there, I relaxed. Things switched back to normal. But then there she was, sitting up there in one of the back rows, and... I got all flustered.”

  “Flustered?”

  “I’m never flustered. I was... I don’t know... stammering. Stumbling. And I know it was just because she was there.”

  “She’s a colleague,” I said, trying to help her rationalize it. “Not just another student -- she’s a peer. You want to impress her, you want to make a good impression...”

  Ana shook her head. “No -- I have colleagues listening in on my lectures all the time. Even the ones I most respect... there’s no reaction like that. I was light-headed... I don’t know... giddy.”

  “Giddy?” I chuckled.

  “I’m looking at some of the guys near her giving her secret little glances, whispering to each other about her -- sometimes outright flirting with her, trying to attract her interest, and I’m there at the front thinking: she’s invited me to dinner on Saturday.”

  I laughed, “You feel a little flushed, when you see her, when you think about her? Your heart rate picks up a bit...”

  “What are you saying?” Ana was looking at me in shock, as though I couldn’t possibly know how she was feeling when Ellie was in her presence.

  “You have a little crush, Mrs Jordan -- that’s all.” My amusement came mainly from my surprise -- that my wife had started out teasing me about her little brush with a French bisexual, and had then moved into a state of denial, and now was revealing that she might have feelings for another woman after all.

  “Professor Mrs Jordan,” she corrected me. “And I don’t have crushes on women.”

  “She’s so pretty...” I said, only half teasing, “and maybe she has a sexy little accent that sends little shivers through your body whenever she speaks with you... and when she looks at you, you get this jolt of energy through your chest...”

  “Oh God...” Ana sighed. “Seriously?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?” I asked. “I mean, you could still have dinner with her tonight if you wanted... or you could cancel.”

  “I don’t... I don’t think I want to cancel...”

  “You want to find out what might happen?”

  Ana shrugged. I saw trepidation battling with curiosity in her eyes. It was as though I was taking away the safety wire from her next attempt at crossing a tightrope.

  “You really wouldn’t object? If something happened, if she wanted to... I don’t know... make the moves on me... you wouldn’t feel like I was possibly going to cheat on you?”

  I felt my cheeks burn and my insides begin to throb. “No, I’ve told you, haven’t I? I don’t feel threatened by her.”

  “And if these odd feelings of mine -- this crush, if that’s what it is. If I got a little tipsy and let something happen...”

  My cock hardened inside my old paint-flecked jeans. Was that was all this had been leading to? My wife, the most straight-laced geek of them all, had not only turned into a born-again gym bunny, but now had thoughts of exploring some hitherto completely hidden bisexuality?

  I was still not in the slightest bit jealous. I liked the idea of my wife being bisexual, or at least of having t
he freedom to find out.

  “I wouldn’t object,” I said quietly. “As long as it was what you wanted. And it didn’t stop you from loving me, from wanting me.”

  “Of course not. But... I mean, what if it meant... you know... going on real dates with her...”

  “Real dates?” I smiled, and kissed her again. “I can’t believe you’re even considering it. But I wouldn’t consider it cheating, put it that way.”

  “You’re insane, you know that?” Then she suddenly gasped. “What the hell am I going to wear tonight?”

  Well, that turned the afternoon into an odd experience, I can tell you. Ana insisted I watch her try on various possible dresses after revealing she’d initially planned on going to the dinner wearing jeans and a plain top.

  There was no teasing, no taunting on either side. She wasn’t teasing me for being so tolerant of her desire to explore the possibility of dating another woman, compared to how I might be if she were considering an affair with a man. I wasn’t teasing her for her about-face in attitude towards this challenge to her sexuality.

  I found myself encouraging her toward the steamy end of the spectrum as far as her dresses were concerned, high on the thighs and low on the necklines.

  It was strange, seeing her acting like a love-struck teenager, suddenly so self-conscious again about her looks, and what Ellie might think of her in this dress, or that dress. Whether she was sending the wrong signals if she did or did not wear pants instead.

  In the end, we had to leap into the car and tear up the asphalt to the nearest mall, the upscale Kingsway Mall, to (eventually) find an ensemble that Ana could accept as appropriate.

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” I laughed, partly in relief that she’d finally decided on something, as we returned home with just enough time to spare for Ana to shower and fix herself up for her ‘date’.

  “Well, I don’t want to disappoint her,” she replied.