Wives with Benefits: Volume Two

by Max Sebastian

  I watched the two of them kissing a while, and then they were straightening their clothes, Ana eventually stepping out of the vehicle to turn and wave as Ellie backed out of the driveway and disappeared into the night.

  I went downstairs to let her in the front door, and Ana was all smiles, I guessed she knew I’d been watching.

  “You’re back early,” I said as I stepped aside for her, and closed the front door.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, and I could already tell she was a little tipsy. Then she was on me, pulling me to her, kissing my mouth. All worked up by her date, no doubt.

  I could taste alcohol on her breath, but the sharp tang was as nothing compared to the taste of another woman on her lips. I could smell Ellie all over my wife, but the scent of her arousal was particularly strong as I kissed her mouth. My heart was threatening to leap out of my body.

  “You have a good time on your date?” I asked her as I kissed her neck, my hands trailing down her body to her smooth thighs, and up to find that she hadn’t put her panties back on to come inside. Perhaps she’d even left them in Ellie’s truck.

  “Of course,” she said, beaming. “Can’t you tell?”

  She held my head and kissed me hard, and we were sucking on each other’s faces with vigor, tongues slipping in each other’s mouths, sharing the lingering traces of Ellie’s wetness. I pulled her dress down, her insanely hard nipples drawing my mouth one by one. Then I was on the floor, kneeling to kiss her stomach, my hands cupping and fondling her shapely breasts. I didn’t allow her to move five yards from the front door, and she was stripped naked, one leg raised, her foot resting on my back as I ate her pussy, taking for myself what I had been watching another woman taking before.

  Ana’s chest was heaving as I feasted on her. She had already been well primed for me to take her back to another orgasm, it seemed easier than it had ever been before. Sucking on her pussy lips, fucking her with my tongue.

  After that, she was leading me up to the bedroom.

  “You know I just had sex with her in her truck?” she asked as we walked upstairs. “Right there on our driveway before I came in?”

  “You’re a naughty girl,” I said. “What will the neighbors think?”

  “It’s a fairly secluded driveway — we were safe enough.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The question is, what does my husband think?” In the bedroom, Ana slumped down in front of me, and now peeled my boxer shorts down to take my cock in her hands — and in her mouth.

  “You know what I think,” I told her, and she smiled since the stiffness of my cock was all she needed to know about how I thought.

  She wanted more than just to suck on me, though, and in no time I had her down on the bed, panting and gasping for breath as I thrust into her from behind. I was a little rough with her, perhaps, my body slamming into hers with each stroke — but her moans only encouraged me. It seemed almost as though she wanted me to restore the balance in her sexuality after her night with Ellie.

  She was flushed and perspiring as I pounded her, and so gorgeous I could hardly believe it. A sexual goddess getting her satisfaction from a man and a woman in the same night.

  When I came inside her that night, she was on her back and taking it like a missionary, so that we could collapse together and just hold each other for a while as we calmed down.

  “So what happened?” I asked her, as some distraction from the sex that was still thick in the air. “How come you didn’t stay over with her?”

  “Can I say I missed my hubby?” she joked.

  “You can, but I won’t believe you.”

  “Ellie had to get up early in the morning to call her boyfriend in France.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “So we thought it better for me to come back here so she could sleep.”

  “She needs a good sleep before talking to her boyfriend?” I said, hinting that perhaps it was something more heavy than just a transatlantic catch-up.

  Ana just shrugged. “Not for us to reason why.”

  “You left your car at her place?”

  “I had too much to drink,” she said. “We can pick it up in the morning, right?”

  9

  It was Thanksgiving, and we had an extra reason to celebrate: our new house was finished. For once, Ana and I decided not to visit one or other of our families for the day, but to spend the first Thanksgiving in our fully decorated home by ourselves, enjoying our own company with a special Turkey Day feast for two.

  We still spent all day cooking and watching football and generally enjoying the day off work. We still dressed up nicely for our mid-afternoon meal - Ana in a very fetching crimson wool dress that didn’t seem too formal, and yet made her look sensational, hugging her curves tightly, revealing much of her toned thighs.

  But it was just us, and without the extended family to work around, there was less pressure than usual, more opportunity to relax and enjoy ourselves.

  Ana seemed more affectionate than usual, and partly it was just how she was generally now that she had Ellie on the side -- as though she was receiving so much attention these days, her own affection was bubbling over -- but on this day, it was more even than that.

  As it came time to take the turkey out of the oven to let it rest, and put various vegetables in for the final push, Ana came to give me yet another hug, and this time a long, slow kiss.

  “What’s up with you today?” I smiled broadly. “You’re so lovey-dovey.”

  She gave an amused pout, “Am I not allowed to enjoy some alone time with my hunky husband?”

  “Hunky?” I chuckled.

  “I have something to tell you,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect.

  “Okay...” I said warily. I was never all that keen on surprises. “Don’t tell me you got offered a job somewhere else? After all the work we put into this house...”

  “No,” she shook her head.

  “You won the Nobel prize in mathematics?”

  “There’s no such thing!” she giggled. “Alfred Nobel’s lover ran off with a mathematician, so he didn’t create a math prize.”

  “No? Shame, thought you were a sure thing for that one.”

  She hugged me tightly again, not quite throttling me but getting close. Then she leaned in to whisper in my ear: “We’re having a baby.”

  God, what a surprise, what an explosion of delight inside my chest. We were, it had to be said, beginning to get a little too old to start a family -- we’d talked about it a while ago, but it had never quite seemed the right time for us, and with Ana at the time pursuing tenure, we’d put it off further and further, until it got to the point where I’d assumed perhaps Ana wasn’t keen on having children at all.

  I turned, full of wonder and awe. “Seriously…?” I asked, astounded.

  “Uh-huh,” she grinned. “I’m about six weeks gone. I was waiting to get another test done -- those pregnancy tests are really inaccurate sometimes -- before I told you...”

  I was whooping and shouting, wow. I never felt like that before. I always wanted kids, always wanted to be a father. After everything, and at 36 years old, I had just about figured it was something that would never happen.

  “This calls for Champagne, right?” I said, and bounded away, intent on finding that dusty bottle we’d always been saving for a special occasion.

  “Wait -- “ she said, but I was determined, and already en route to our basement to fetch the bottle.

  It was actually a little more tricky to find than I’d thought, since so much of our stuff was still in boxes ready to be unpacked now that the decorating was done. God, we had a lot of stuff. But, at last, there it was. Bollinger, from 1995, which was supposed to have been a good year for it.

  Brushing the dust off the bottle -- and off myself, after scavenging through our boxes -- I returned to the first floor and the warmth of our open-plan kitchen-living room to find another surprise waiting for me. Ana was not alone.

  There was Ellie,
all dressed up nicely in a cream dress and dark pantyhose, beautiful enough to make the heart sing, helping Ana to set the table. I felt the embers inside my chest stirred a little more, quiet arousal sending adrenaline circulating around my blood vessels to see her, and to think: my wife was really sleeping with this gorgeous creature? Wow.

  The two of them saw me and broke out into wide smiles, Ana coming over to me to say, “Oh honey, there was something else I was going to tell you...”

  “I guess there was,” I said, reflecting their smiles as my wife leaned up to kiss me.

  “You don’t mind, do you? She was going to be all on her own for Thanksgiving...”

  “Of course, of course,” I said, trying to appear welcoming to our new guest, despite my surprise. “The more the merrier.”

  Ellie came forward, and said, “Nice to meet you, finally.”

  Oh yes, I said silently to myself, I hadn’t actually properly met her, yet. I wasn’t quite sure whether to shake her hand, or offer her a hug, or what -- but Ellie simply put out her hands and kept on coming toward me, touching my sides as she leaned in to kiss one of my cheeks, then the other. She was French, I supposed.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I said as she stepped back again. “Glad you could make it.”

  I was a little buzzed by being able to recognize Ellie’s perfume, having detected traces of it about my wife’s person every now and then. Jesus.

  We had a lovely meal -- a joint effort in the cooking department this time, though my bread rolls were a little on the dry side. Ellie was, indeed, a sweetheart, and I could see why my wife would get on with her, beyond just the extraordinary physical attraction.

  And all meal, I had this glow about me, to be able to see this heavenly creature up close and know that my wife was sleeping with her. I had to be careful not to appear to be staring at her, though. Or to react obviously while I was mentally picturing how this exquisite brunette might look in bed with Ana.

  *

  After a long, leisurely meal where we discussed everything from how the French enjoy their celebratory meals, to how Ellie and Ana were now planning on collaborating on another paper as more of a joint effort -- oh, and Ellie shared in our big news, despite the fact that it was too early to even tell our families, with Ana only halfway through her first trimester -- we settled down for a little more wine and the next football game. Ana was noticeably avoiding the alcohol, other than a couple of sips just to try our special bottle of Champagne. But her jubilant mood more than made up for it.

  Then, as the afternoon wore on, early evening raised questions in my mind as to whether Ellie was staying longer, and what the whole plan was for the closing end of Thanksgiving. As it got later and later, I found myself sitting there on the couch watching the Seahawks kicking the stuffing out of the Forty-niners, and I was all on my lonesome.

  When had the women crept away from me?

  I figured they weren’t all that crazy about football, and thought perhaps they were off talking shop, since they were going to do some research together. That little flame burning inside me hoped they might be upstairs, though, enjoying a little more of a physical collaboration.

  At half-time, I started clearing away the dining table and our little kitchen area, and the absence of Ana and Ellie was becoming a little more noticeable. What were they up to?

  Then I heard the two of them giggling as they came downstairs toward me, and there they were, looking as good as ever, their outfits unruffled, their hair unmussed. I felt a touch of disappointment that they hadn’t been obviously up to no good, but then the two of them came into the kitchen and each of them grabbed one of my hands.

  “Hello?” I said, amused but confused, but sharing in their easy smiles.

  “Come with us,” Ana said, and led me out of the kitchen, toward the stairs, Ellie tailing along behind me yet still holding my hand.

  “You know, I’m not sure I can handle any more surprises,” I said as we climbed up the stairs.

  “Oh, you can,” Ana said, and led me down the small upstairs landing to our master bedroom.

  I was fizzing all over, I couldn’t help but think what the most obvious use of a bedroom was, when it wasn’t time for sleeping. But I couldn’t imagine what Ana was planning.

  There by the bed, she drew me in for a kiss, and for a brief moment as my arm slipped easily around my wife’s waist, I felt a little awkward with Ellie there, still holding my hand. Only, then Ellie joined our embrace, her arm slipping around me, and around Ana -- and then right there inches away from me, Ana turned to kiss the young French woman.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered into her ear.

  She turned to me and smiled, “Just enjoy yourself,” she replied quietly, then turned to present her back to me -- and a clear request to help her unzip her dress.

  Totally awestruck, I did as she wanted, and she drew the soft material up her thighs and her stomach to reveal a gray lace thong, then over her chest to expose her matching bra, and that incredible gym-assisted figure of hers.

  It just seemed like some kind of a dream. I was standing there kissing my beautiful wife, and she was in nothing but her underwear, and the exquisite Ellie was standing right there next to us. Then she turned her back to me, offering me the zip on her dress, and I was just stunned.

  Ana grinned, and gave a little nod to silently tell me our guest was waiting for me to oblige. As I drew that little black zip down her dress, exposing her smooth, creamy skin and the gorgeous curve of her lower back, Ana stepped in front of her, and the two women embraced, their lips coming together in a sensual, passionate kiss, Ellie’s hands swarming all over my wife’s near-naked form, while Ana’s helped me to slip Ellie’s dress off her shoulders, and down her elfin frame.

  I wasn’t quite sure how far Ana was planning on taking all this, I wasn’t sure whether I was simply supposed to be assisting them somehow, keeping away from Ellie myself. Standing there unsure of myself, I stroked the French girl’s long brown hair back out of her face, back over her shoulders, and found myself gently kissing her neck without even really meaning to -- it was just something that always came naturally if ever Ana and I had been in a similar position.

  I glanced at Ana as I realized what I was doing, frightened that she would be angry at me, jealous. But she smiled, and gave another little nod of encouragement, giving me her silent blessing to share in the incredible beauty that now stood between us.

  For a few moments I just watched them as they pressed together, sucking on each other’s lips, their tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, their hands sweeping over each other’s smooth skin and shapely curves. I kissed Ellie’s shoulders gently, and then made my way down her back, past the strap of her white lacy bra, and down her lower back, crouching to peel down her black nylon pantyhose and expose her white lacy thong.

  Breathing in her perfume, and with my wife’s fragrance in the mix, I felt as though I were on fire.

  Then the two of them turned, arm in arm, and Ana was pointing me to our armchair, a clear direction on her face: sit, boy.

  I laughed, not minding being treated like some ravenous dog on this occasion. I stood up and received a brief little kiss from Ellie, and then another from Ana. And I took my place, willingly, in the chair.

  “Comfortable?” Ana smiled.

  “Very,” I replied.

  The two women turned to each other, and dropped down to perch on the edge of our sofa, before coming together for a sensual kiss of the mouths. They sank further into the couch as they kissed, with Ellie closer to me and offering me a view of her behind, Ana further away though facing me as she sucked on the French girl’s face, her hands roaming all over her body. The two of them seemed so perfect together, their chemistry so compatible and so effervescent.

  Ana kissed Ellie’s neck and slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulder, and soon my wife was leaning down to take one of Ellie’s nipples into her mouth, making the French girl moan and then laugh as she suc
ked on the sensitive little bud.

  Ellie turned, and I could see her magnificent bare breasts, her rosy nipples so stiff as Ana now moved down between her legs, kissing her way down her stomach. I caught my breath as Ana relocated down onto the floor, kneeling between the French girl’s thighs, and now as Ellie’s hand gently stroked my wife’s head, Ana was kissing her way down around Ellie’s panties, slipping the little scrap of white lace off over her thighs and away.

  And I watched as my formerly straight-laced, relatively tame and geeky professor of a wife began lapping at this gorgeous brunette’s sweet pussy, making her close her eyes and gasp for air, her hands massaging her own breasts as Ana pushed her face against Ellie’s sex.

  This wasn’t watching from some upstairs window through the front windshield of a truck — I could see everything, in perfect technicolor. I couldn’t believe how hot it was watching my wife going down on another woman right in front of me. She was bold, she was sexy, she was as into it as though she’d been dating women all her life, feasting on the pretty brunette, hungry for her, taking her fill.

  She flicked her tongue around Ellie’s clit, and slipped a couple of fingers inside her, and there she was working the French beauty, giving Ellie a real ride toward the first minor climax of the evening, the young woman writhing and panting and gasping as she came on my Ana’s face.

  But the show wasn’t over with Ellie’s orgasm. Ana moved up onto the couch again, and the two of them were kissing some more, Ellie reaching around to slip the catch on my wife’s bra and free her small, pert breasts and her dusky, stiff little nipples. And I watched the French girl sliding down to reciprocate, Ana leaning back to moan and sigh as Ellie unleashed her expert tongue on her intimate area, tasting her, penetrating her, making her squirm.

  I might have been detached from the action, but seeing Ana like this, experiencing such unbridled pleasure, was reward in and of itself. I didn’t feel threatened or jealous, I could feel as though I was granting her this pleasure, because I was supporting her relationship with Ellie, and at the same time I could remain merely an observer, seeing her from a perspective I never could when I was the one giving her pleasure.