Watching My Hot Wife - Ten Book Collection Vol 4
Page 3
“Yes,’ replied Lydia matter of factly. “Trust me, you get sick of it after a while, but for now, let’s enjoy ourselves. Order anything you want.”
Lydia Allen and her Trinidadian lover Tennyson Besson were sitting in a restaurant in a very trendy section of East London. As far as anyone else knew, Lydia was doing her job - reviewing the place. Tennyson was along as her date, a very secret date. It was the first time they had seen each other since meeting two months before at a resort in Barbados.
The two lovers did a good job of talking about the food, avoiding the uncomfortable incident that ended their Caribbean tryst. It wasn’t until they ordered a plate of schnapps infused jellies that Tennyson broached the subject.
“So, how’s Eric then?”
“Oh he’s better than can be expected,” replied Lydia, running her tongue around the inside of the shot glass to remove the last dregs of peach jelly, slowing down her movements ever-so-slightly for emphasis. “He didn’t speak to me for a few days, actually disappeared for a night, but now he’s great. Keeps talking about going to a bloody swinger’s bar!”
Tennyson laughed, his beautiful smile causing Lydia to lapse into a temporary state of hypnosis.
“God man, Eric. What a dog! What a dog that boy is. Ok great, so you gonna become a swinger then, Miss Lydia?”
“What? Oh, no, I don’t think so,” replied Lydia, a little annoyed. “That sort of thing doesn’t appeal, fucking a bunch of strangers in front of a bunch of strangers. If there are going to be more than two people involved, I want to know them all.”
“Fair enough,” said Tennyson, leaning in close. “And where does all this leave us?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Lydia replied, putting her hand on Tennyson’s exposed forearm and running it over the smooth, muscular surface. “I want you so bad it burns.”
Several minutes later Lydia and Tennyson were in the back of a black cab pawing at each other like randy teenagers. Lydia had booked a room at a nearby hotel just in case dinner with Tennyson went according to plan. And, it had gone very according to plan.
“I cannot wait to see those perfect tits of yours again,” Tennyson was cooing into Lydia’s ear in between kisses, his hand running up the inside of Lydia’s black stocking covered thigh.
Lydia responded by spreading her legs a little, her cream skirt riding up under her seat as she did so.
With one eye on the rear view mirror of the cab and the other on Tennyson’s long dark fingers, inching their way towards the gusset of her panties.
Lydia whispered, “I can’t wait to squeeze them around that thick black cock of yours…”
The cab pulled up outside the hotel and the Lydia practically threw a bundle of pound notes at the driver.
“Keep the change,” she managed to splutter as Tennyson scooped her up in his arms, bundling her across the foot path and then setting her down in the lobby. Lydia was giddy, and found it near impossible to maintain a straight face whilst checking in with the disapproving and sharp featured hotel clerk.
“Just the one night is it?” asked the clerk, refusing to make eye contact.
“That’s right,” replied Lydia as Tennyson’s right hand clasped on to her butt and squeezed, his fingers curling up under her cheek and grazing lightly against her tingling pussy mound.
“Room 809,’ said the clerk, pushing a keycard towards Lydia and going back to typing inanities into her computer.
Once inside the room Lydia and Tennyson began kissing like their lives depended on it; savoring each other lips, sucking on each other’s tongues, inhaling, consuming, and devouring each other. Tennyson held Lydia’s head in his hands and pulled her long dark hair out of it’s ponytail.
“Let it out, and take that top off,” he ordered.
Lydia obeyed, unbuttoning her cream silk shirt and placing it on a chair. She took the moment’s respite in ardor to speak honestly to Tennyson.
“I don’t know how often I will be able to do this. Don’t think that we are about to start some… regular thing here. I don’t know what this is, I just know I had to see you again.”
“I get it. But I also hope this isn’t the last time we can be together,” said Tennyson as he walked towards Lydia. “I have a feeling there is still a lot more for us to explore…”
With that he took a hold of Lydia’s breasts, still enclosed in their white lacy bra, and bent down, kissing the soft flesh tenderly, squeezing and pushing up until she was practically spilling out of each cup.
“Oh fuck,” moaned Lydia softly, “fuck… suck on my nipples. I want to feel your tongue on me…”
Lydia had been fantasizing about Tennyson’s tongue for some time. The night they had spent together in Barbados was amazing, but hadn’t involved a lot of foreplay. Lydia skipped straight to the main course, and didn’t really get a chance to sample any desserts thanks to her husband Eric’s untimely appearance. Now she had Tennyson all to herself, with no threat of a rude interruption, she was going to take her sweet time to enjoy every last inch of this man, and his tongue was an area no doubt replete with special wonders.
“I want you to lie down on the bed, but take your clothes off first,” instructed Lydia, lifting Tennyson’s smoothly shaved head up from where it was buried in her cleavage. “I am going to go and powder my nose, and when I come back I expect to find you on that bed, lying on your back. Understood?”
“Mmmmhmmm, understood,” said Tennyson, a look of mischievous delight flashing across his face.
Lydia went into the bathroom and shut the door. She took off her bra, and looked at herself in the mirror.
“Not bad for 42,” she thought to herself.
Her breasts hung beautifully, and the stark tan lines she had gotten in Barbados had dissolved into a delightful cross fade of olive, bronze and cream tones across her cleavage. She thought about Eric, and how she was now ‘officially’ having an affair. Going back into the room and going through with what ever would unfold was a definite step. She readied herself, breathing deeply, and looked at her eyes for any sign of hesitation. There was none.
“Good,” said Lydia, upon re-entering the room and seeing Tennyson lying back on the bed, naked, his left hand toying with his slumbering cock carelessly.
She took off her heels, and climbed up on the bed, standing above her lover’s face and staring down and the giant cock that was stretching half way down his thigh. His shaved balls looked beautiful, lolling about in his scrotum like two chocolate eggs.
Lydia began to rub herself through her panties, making sure Tennyson was getting a good eyeful of everything she was doing. She wanted to watch the thing stiffen between his legs, and kept her eyes fixed on its thick shaft. She pulled the fabric of her thong to the side, and easily slid a finger into her wetness, letting out a soft moan as she did so. Tennyson’s cock suddenly twitched, so she decided to give him more, sliding another finger in, and slowly fucking herself, a sheen quickly forming on her fingers as she did so.
Within moments Tennyson’s cock had grown hard. It was so big it couldn’t stand upright on its own, and he was massaging it, slowly stroking its full, impressive length. Lydia could not believe her eyes as she lowered herself down to get closer to it. Her pussy was now an inch or so above Tennyson’s mouth, and she leant forward, her face so close to the head of this massive black cock that she could see the pre-cum forming in it’s little slit. She stretch out her tongue to taste it, lowering her vulva down onto the waiting face of Tennyson as she did so.
His tongue entered her instantly, a hunger apparent in his lapping. Lydia matched this hunger with her own tongue, swirling it around the glistening head of her lover’s cock, kissing and drooling on it alternatively. She felt his hand on her buttocks, his fingers spreading her apart so that he could taste more of her. This was what she had been dreaming about… to be devoured by this black stud. She put as much of his cock into her mouth as she could, her hands stroking the lower part of the shaft as she sucked.<
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Lydia began grinding herself across his face, holding on to his cock like a joystick. She could hear him mumbling and moaning, and the sounds only served to turn her on more. She remembered again the thing that was in her hands, and began pumping it hard, trying to figure out a rhythm to deal with such an ungainly member.
“You taste so bloody good,” came Tennyson’s voice from beneath her thighs.
She smiled upon hearing this, and pushed herself down harder onto his tongue. They had been going on like this for a good ten minutes when Tennyson’s phone began to ring. Lydia had thought to turn hers off, and was somewhat annoyed that he had not done the same. She then realised that she had sprung the hotel on him somewhat unannounced, and that since hoping in the cab he hadn’t had a moment to himself to deal with things like cell phones.
“Do you want to get that?” asked Lydia, sliding off his glistening brown face somewhat unceremoniously.
“Fuckin’ phones,” began Tennyson, lifting himself up. “Yeah it might be this prima donna I have booked tomorrow night on a barge. She’s being a right pain in the arse. Hang on darling alright?”
Tennyson leaned in and gave Lydia a long slow kiss before jumping off the bed to search through his pockets, wiping his mouth with his forearm. Lydia closed her eyes in a heady glee as she tasted her own musk; the flavor of her horny pussy now transplanted to her lips.
“Hullo?” asked Tennyson, somewhat breathlessly.
Lydia pulled her sopping wet panties off in preparation, and leant back on the bed, legs spread in his direction.
“Who’s this?” Tennyson was frowning now, and the mood of the room suddenly shifted 90 degrees.
Lydia closed her legs and crawled forward, sensing something was wrong.
“Oh, yeah, yeah I remember,” said Tennyson, his eyes wide, a look of panic plastered across his face.
“It’s Eric!” he mouthed to Lydia, his palm opening up as if to say “how the fuck did he know we were doing this?”
Eric didn’t actually know they were doing what they were doing, it just happened to be an incredible piece timing on his part. He was ringing to arrange a meeting with Tennyson, and he sounded very civil on the phone, no animosity whatsoever. In fact there seemed to be genuine interest on who Tennyson had performing at the moment, Eric even brought up the name of ‘Dandy Boy’, an artist Tennyson had told Eric about over dinner in Barbados.
“He wants to meet,” said Tennyson, finally hanging up. He was sitting on the floor, totally nude, and totally bewildered. “How did he even get my number?”
“Eric is a resourceful man. When he wants something, he usually gets it,” replied Lydia, sliding off the bed and opening a towel. “What exactly did he say?”
“Well he said there were no hard feelings, and that he didn’t hold anything against me, but that he had a proposition for me. And then he asked about that artist I told you guys about. Remember how I said I’d have you as guests of honor and all that… man, my head is proper done in right now!”
“Oh shit, okay…” began Lydia as she walked towards the bathroom. “I’m sorry about this, God. I really didn’t want to create a big drama.”
Lydia stepped into the bathroom, momentarily wishing she could stay in there forever. Tennyson sat on the bed, looking at his phone and shaking his head.
“The poor bastard,” he thought to himself.
Eric had seen them, had seen Tennyson literally cumming on the face of his wife. Lydia had told him afterwards that she had seen her husband watching them through the window, but had only noticed him as Tennyson was unloading his sperm all over her waiting mouth.
“What a bloody thing to see…” mused Tennyson out loud. He stood up, looked around the room at the disarray of clothes, and scratched his head. “Another bloody fine mess you have got yourself into my son,” he said to himself, collecting his clothes and piling them onto the bed.
What could this guy want, he was wondering, and what could this proposition be? Tennyson crossed over to the bathroom and opened the door quietly. He wanted to ask Lydia what she thought her husband could be up to, but upon seeing her naked body in the shower he was stuck in his tracks.
He had been attracted to Lydia from the first moment he saw her, when she accidentally flashed him her freshly waxed nether regions from inside her hotel room. But here, looking at her again without her knowledge, he saw more. Here was a woman, not just a piece of ass, or a particularly stunning example of female grooming, but a fully rounded human being, whose life was now, for better or worse, entwined with his. This realization gave her beauty a depth, and Tennyson watched her bathing with fresh eyes. He moved towards the steamy water, his heart beat resounding with each step.
“Lydia,” he said, reaching his hand out and touching the soft curve of her waist.
Lydia started, so absorbed was she in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed him enter. She looked into his eyes and saw something new, an intense profundity resonating within the light brown iris of his eyes.
“I’m sorry about all this,” began Lydia, burying her head in the warm cleft of his pectoral muscles.
Tennyson wrapped his big arms around her and let the hot water run over his shaven head.
“Hey, we’re grown ups. Grown ups get themselves into trouble, and then they get themselves out of it. Or they get themselves into more trouble. Either way, no use sweatin’ ‘bout it.” Tennyson lifted Lydia’s head up, water running down her face. “At least we met each other, that is a cool thing.”
Tennyson bent towards Lydia, and they kissed now refreshed. No longer wild animals or amped up teenagers - now lovers, true lovers, flushed with tenderness and genuine intimacy.
Tennyson loved they way Lydia’s nipples felt against his chest, their hardness accentuated by the running water. He reached over and pulled Lydia in close, pulling her in tight against him, her breasts squishing out underneath his pecs deliciously. He began running his hand over her ass, and within seconds Lydia felt his fingers inside her, sliding in and out effortlessly.
“I need your cock,” Lydia whispered in Tennyson’s ear, her words battling against the sound of the shower.
Tennyson smiled, and cock in hand, began teasing her outer folds with dark chocolate helmet of his member. The hot water seemed to be washing away Lydia’s natural lube, so Tennyson reached up and moved the shower head to the side. He then spat in his hand, rubbed his palm over the head of his cock and then picked Lydia up, spreading her legs, and lowering her down, inch by inch, onto his glistening shaft. Lydia felt like she may pass out.
The steam of the shower and the electricity in her loins combined to lift Lydia into a kind of sensual delirium. She was giddy, no longer in control - she was being lifted and lowered, her movements done for her. All she needed to do was take him; take as much of him as she could. Gravity was allowing even more of Tennyson to enter her than usual, and as she lowered herself down onto this giant dark fleshy tool of impalement her breath caught in her throat - something was building up deep inside her, near her bladder or stomach or somewhere, she wasn’t sure where exactly, but a pressure seemed to be increasing, like she was going to cum, but cum from somewhere different. She pressed down on Tennyson’s shoulders, lifting herself up, and then she pulled down, using his arms to move herself up and down, faster and faster, as the pressure inside her built with growing intensity.
Tennyson could sense that Lydia was about to cum, and this in turn made his path towards climax hasten. He began to grunt, not words, just pure animal sounds. Lydia joined in, a low wail emanating from her belly. She felt all of sudden like she was going to urinate, and tensed up, contracting her vaginal muscles in a panic. But whatever was happening was now beyond her control, as an almighty orgasm began surge through her body. As she came Lydia was aware of an instant rush of liquid spilling over her thighs, and she pushed herself back from Tennyson’s chest.
She threw her head back and screamed: “Fuck! Fuck…. I’m cumming! Oh my god!”
By the time Tennyson gave his final thrust upwards, Lydia was in a state of complete bliss. She’d become floppy, like a giant wet rag doll, incapable of movement except for the odd tremor that caroused through her limp body.
“My god,” she uttered, “Tennyson… that was incredible…”
2
When Lydia got home that evening Eric was already asleep. She showered and slipped into bed inconspicuously, and crumbled into a deep slumber within minutes.
The following morning Eric had already left when Lydia woke, but on the breakfast table downstairs she found a hand written note:
Hey Lyds,