by Lexi Rush
Chapter 2: Wednesday
“Gotta run, honey. See you tonight.”
“You didn’t finish your eggs...”
“I forgot I have a morning meeting. I’m going to have to break the land speed record to make it in time, bye sweetie,” I kiss her cheek and bolt out the door.
The sun is just peeking up over the horizon. I wish I had more time to sit and enjoy the sunrise. Times like these, I wish I worked from home. We moved out to the country for the solitude and the simple living, but commuting into the hornet’s nest of the city takes its toll, especially today. Jenna has it easy with her freelance photography. She disagrees, but I’d trade places in a heartbeat.
This morning definitely ranks as our most awkward. All we did was small talk as the eight hundred pound gorilla taunted my back. I have so much I want to talk about with Jenna, but didn’t have the balls to bring anything up.
I click on the negative news but my mind drifts to a happy place. An idea makes me have to adjust my slacks and prompts me to continue scheming.
***
I leave work early and pick up some roses to surprise Jenna. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky again tonight. Two days in a row would set a record for at least the past several years. My cock twitches and I recall, for the umpteenth time today, the image of Jenna masturbating wildly in front of me.
Traffic is light, unlike this morning, and I slowly pull into our gravel drive that winds into our tucked away country home. I do love it here. I love the privacy that five acres provides. We could never hot tub nude in our old apartment. My hands are sweaty as I veer off to the side rather than open the squeaky garage. I click off the ignition and gently open and close my car door.
The front door is unlocked—as usual—another benefit with country living. Jenna’s not around and I eye the flowers in my hand and sigh.
Then I hear something. It sounds like voices. I turn my head sideways and am drawn to the stairs. Jenna must be working upstairs. Even better. My heart flutters as I tip-toe up our hardwood stairs without making any noise. The sound is louder and coming from our bedroom. My knees buckle and I drop the flowers as I hear a male voice...
Is Jenna having an affair? My feet feel like bowling balls as I trudge toward the bedroom. A chattering monkey invades my mind. How could she do this to me? Did she take my pillow talk too far? What do I do now? Be cool, be cool, be cool.
My heart pounds so hard that I feel deaf. Then I hear it. There definitely is a guy in my bedroom—talking dirty to my wife. My pensiveness turns into an adrenaline rush. I am a wild animal, released from his cage as I lurch forward.
The door is ajar and I stop and can’t believe what I see...
Jenna lays on her back, with two pillows under head. And a huge black dildo piercing her cunt. The muffled man’s voice is coming from her laptop.
What the fuck? It’s bizarre to say that I feel intense relief right now. Most guys would freak out if they caught their wife masturbating to porn. My mouth is so wide open, barn sparrows could nest there. I am dumbstruck—and hard as a rock.
This is even more erotic than last night. I panic, unsure what to do. My conscience says sneak back downstairs and wait, maybe text her you’re almost home. But, my lower chakra says fuck that, enjoy the show!
I unzip (quietly) and my throbbing cock pops out, beckoning me to start stroking. I can’t make out the screen on her laptop that’s propped in front of her—and in between her legs, but can tell it’s porn alright. Interracial? I can’t tell, but I know I’ve created a...fucking hotwife. My fist pumps faster as I realize this is falling into place better than I could imagine. Or, more accurately, exactly how I imagined.
Jenna is now dildoing with one hand while tweaking her clit with the other. I know she can’t hear me over her steady moans—or the audio blaring a few feet away.
My mind screams, I can’t hold it anymore...
I groan as I blast a series of ropes onto the door. I hear a rustling but can’t see shit through my Chinese eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” My wife’s shrill voice pop my eyes open as the last drop oozes onto my hand. Our eyes lock, and I say, “I was going to ask you the same thing...”
Jenna’s laptop is closed and she somehow found enough material to conceal that night stick. But she is bottomless and makes a lame attempt at covering her honey-colored bush.
I let go of my dick that is still pointing due north and shoulder the door above my sloppy caulking. My cock sways northeast and northwest as I amble up to the side of the bed. Jenna says, “Seriously, what the fuck...”
I end her sentence with my lips. She tries to push me off her, but I persist and manage to part her lips with my tongue. Her mouth feels foreign, but then again, there is nothing normal anymore.
I pull off her lips and she pushes away and pulls the sheet up higher, to her chest.
With my most devilish grin, I say, “We need to talk.”
After two hours of our most erotic conversation ever, I realize I say everything I need to say and she shocks me by her answer. I wonder if I lost my fucking mind.
I’ll find out soon enough.
Chapter 3: Early Saturday
I couldn’t wait for today to arrive. Now that it’s here, my insides are waging war. Jenna is still sleeping even though I’ve been wide awake all night. The moon is beaming through our window like a search light. Living in seclusion, we never felt like we needed shades on our windows. But, right now, I’m considering hanging a sheet up there. I flip to my side, back to the window, but the light casts my shadow against the wall. Eerie.
I hope it’s not an omen. I’m not usually spooked too easily and definitely not superstitious, but my insides feel haunted right now.
Jenna seems too eager and Devin definitely is overly enthusiastic. The guy has texted me so many times, I almost blocked him. I still wonder if all three of us can handle what is likely happening in a matter of hours.
As I think about it, my cock dances against my boxers. I am giving up on sleep. Still lying on my side, my hand slips down and grips my hyper sensitive boner. I gently rub as I imagine seeing my Jenna fondling, sucking, and fucking Devin.
I should tell you a little more about Devin...
I’ve known Devin for more than five years. He plays on my club basketball team at the gym. Though I’m technically the captain, Devin’s the man. And I can sum him up in one word: stud. He’s tall, dark, and to quote Derek Zoolander, “Ridiculously good-looking.” As you probably guessed, yes Devin is African-American. I should say he’s more like Mulatto-American. His mom is French Caucasian, and a MILF in every sense of the word. Devin doesn’t know his dad, aside from his mom telling him he is black and actually 1st generation African-American.
Back to why Devin’s a stud. Our entire hoops crew calls him “Python,” and it’s not a racial slur. Anyone who sees him in the shower knows why. As he struts around the locker room naked, you’d swear his schlong is a pet snake. His uncircumcised flap of foreskin makes his cock look like a python. He’s also the most legendary ladies’ man on the planet. The guy’s game is more of a direct link, a magnetic pull, on anyone with a vagina. Young, old, black/white, it doesn’t matter—the guy is a chick magnet. And he especially favors white girls—and doesn’t discriminate if they’re married; he jokingly says he “Prefers married chicks—they just want sex and no drama.”
Devin is a perfect pick for our little excursion. He is my first choice, but when I mentioned him to Jenna, she immediately nodded her head and even blushed as she pondered the possibilities. Jenna vividly remembers meeting Devin for the first and only time. She and I were supposed to be going on a date night in the city. She pops into a sports bar where Devin and I were downing a beer or two after one of our games. She was so smitten by Devin that I damn near pissed my pants—there was no way I was leaving them alone for a second.
Now, I’m their sex broker and though I’m not going to only watch, I’m guessing I’ll be a supportin
g actor.
Back to when Jenna first met Devin. I remember how jealous I felt. She acted like a schoolgirl with a crush the moment she laid eyes on him. But he made her swoon with his eyes—dark green and hypnotic—and his voice. He hosts a local sports radio program and the female audience is attributable to his deep manly voice.
“Can’t sleep?” Jenna’s voice startles me. I freeze with wide eyes. She continues, “what are you thinking about?”
The way she says this tells me I’m busted. Can’t a guy jerk off in peace? Rather than lie, I turn on my back and pull the covers down, “This is what happens when I imagine Devin having his way with you.”
“Or, the other way around?”
I stare into her eyes but she doesn’t flinch. I say, “The other way around? You don’t sound scared anymore...”
“Truthfully?”
I nod. She continues, “I’d be lying if I didn’t say you have me really aroused.”
“So, no doubts then?”
My question hangs in the air for a moment. “Well, Luke, I still feel queasy about cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I’m right there. Cheating is behind my back. I told you to think of it as enhancing...”
“I know, I know. You keep saying that, but...”
“No buts! We agree it’s only sex. And it’s only one night. Plus, if you want out at any time, I’ve got your back.”
“You don’t need to keep selling me. But are you sure you can handle it?”
I crane my head up and ogle at my mid section, and say, “Don’t I look like I’m handling it well so far?”
She giggles, then, “Do you want me to finish you off?”
“Does my wife love black dildos?” I say with a crack in my voice like teenage puberty.
Jenna shoots back, “Or real ones!” as she crawls between my legs and pops my aching schlong out through the boxer hole. I want to pull my boxers off but am paralyzed the moment her lips engulf me. I know she tastes a glob of pre-cum, but doesn’t flinch. I prop up on my elbows and imagine her luscious lips bobbing—or trying to—on Devin’s python. She’ll probably freak that he’s not circumcised.
With the image of a big black python invading my Jenna’s mouth, I cum like a wild animal. And Jenna manages to swallow all of it with a look of defiance.
I flop back on my pillow and finally feel like I can fall asleep. There’s a huge difference from the moment before I shoot a load and now. In seconds, I go from King of the Jungle to a docile domestic cat. Now, my relaxing is interrupted by anxiety.
I sigh as I realize: this is my last sex with Jenna before our fantasy meets reality. Ok, our might be pushing it. My fantasy—and her agreeing to play along. I still wonder if she is really up for it...I feel a twitch and know I’m up for it, so to speak. She says she is but I wonder if she is as freaked out right now as I am...
My inner alarm clock flashes and I say, “Don’t move,” as I tuck my schlong back into my boxers, then leap out of bed and scurry into our closet. Ambling back in the room with what has to be a shit-eating-grin, my hands tremble slightly as I hand her a box that I tried covering with last year’s Christmas wrapping paper.
“What’s this?” she playfully moves the package up to her ear and shakes it as she raises an eyebrow.
“Open it,” I say with a growl that surprises me.
I watch her fingernails knife through the tape job with an eagerness that is now fueled by lust. My anticipation wreaks havoc in my groin.
She flips the box open and giggles, “Oh my...are these...my size?”
“Try them on.”
I’m eager to see her in what guys call stripper heels but she refers to as “Clear spikes.” As she carefully slips the first one on, I want to jerk off so bad. I chant patience three times in my head.
Then she slips the other one on and proclaims, “They fit! How did you know my size?”
“Stand up,” I say in a stern voice. Jenna crinkles her nose in a sexy way, then lowers her stripper heels carefully onto our carpet, steadying herself with the bed. Now upright, she wobbles a bit, but gains her composure.
“Honey, I can’t wear these...”
My eyes cannot hide my alpha male ego as I growl, “You have to. This is my only demand and it’s non-negotiable.”
“But...they are so...naughty.”
I can’t say it any better. Naughty, and on a nice girl.
I can’t wait to see Devin’s eyes as she saunters around in her clear stiletto stripper heels.
Chapter 4: Saturday Night
My feet hurt from all the pacing, but I can’t sit still, waiting for Devin. More than once, my chattering monkey brain howls he’s not gonna show. I want to spank my monkey (now that’s a fucking great pun!).
“Let me know when he’s here,” Jenna shouts from upstairs—for the third time in less than ten minutes.
“Yes dear,” I struggle to say through my desert mouth. Normally, when I feel like this, humor flies naturally off my lips. Now, my tongue is bound and gagged. I step toward the stairs to change my shirt, but I hear gravel and gasp.
I dart over and peek around the bare window and see headlights.
“He’s coming,” I proclaim, but the pun makes me cringe instead of laugh. I’ve never been this nervous in my life. And I use both hands to adjust my jeans. A slam of a door startles me, and the squeak of auto-locking a car door makes me panic. I chuckle nervously and feel like yelling you’re not in the city anymore.
Footsteps on the brick path gain ground toward me; I utter Showtime as I force in an inhale. The knock nearly makes me piss my pants. I count to three—don’t want to seem too eager—then cup my mouth enough to muffle my yell, “I’m coming.”
I shudder inside, this time from head to toe.
My palm slips as I turn the door knob, but I manage to open it. And there he is...
With the porch light, Devin looks, well, studly. Standing proud as a peacock, he’s wearing jeans that fit him better than my best pair. And his biceps bulge out of his black V-shirt. There is more intrigue to his physique now than in basketball shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.
“Can I come in bro?”
I shake my head and chortle, “Yeah, sorry man,” I extend my hand but wish I rubbed it on my jeans first.
“Nice digs dawg.” Devin’s green eyes sparkle as he surveys the room we rarely use.
“Oh, thanks, let me show you around...”
Devin follows me as we hike upstairs and enter the bedroom. And as my eyes meet Jenna, I freeze and nearly sprain my jaw.
She’s standing in front of the mirror donning the infamous stripper heels—and girl-next-door looks more like high-end call girl.
Jenna snaps her head at me and scolds, “Luke, you were supposed to tell me when he’s...”
Jenna freezes as Devin strides into the room. Her eyes widen and the lingering pout on her red lips tingles my groin. I’ve never seen her with that much lipstick on—and her fingernails and toenails are the same shade of passion red as her lips. She reminds me a little of the porn star from the other night. Only hotter. My cock pulses against my jeans.
Jenna looks stunning in her skin-tight dress that looks more like body paint. Her hair dangles off her bare shoulders and gone is the Swiss Miss look. I haven’t seen Jenna wear her hair down in a long time. Change that high-end call girl bullshit; the way we both gawk, Jenna’s closer to slut-on-a-pole. And the pole is in my pants, oozing in my boxers.
I glance up at Devin, and mister ladies’ man is gaping—at a loss for words. “You remember my wife Jenna?” I usually never introduce her as my wife Jenna but my nerves short-circuit my brain.
“Of course I do,” Devin snakes around me and says, “wow,” as he slips in past her comfort zone and surprises Jenna with a kiss. On the lips. Not a French greeting on each cheek, not the suave kiss on the back of the hand. Right smack on the lips. And I shake my head as he stays there, his tongue already parts her lips, exploring.
I sta
nd open-mouthed and alternate from one foot to the other like a Village Idiot. What have I gotten myself into?
I clear my throat, but they remain lip-locked.
I whistle, then say, “If you guys just want to take it to the bedroom...”
With that, they finally break for air. Jenna gasps with crimson cheeks, but Devin is cool as a cucumber. Jenna glances at his cucumber and tugs at her dress, then says, “Are you hungry?” Her eyes don’t leave Devin, and I feel invisible.
Devin bites his lower lip, then his green eyes gaze into Jenna’s soul as he says, “I’m up for whatever you want.”
Jenna fidgets and I adjust my jeans—again. I half-expect to hear thunder to accompany the lightning flashes in the room.
“Can I get you a drink?” I blurt out, desperate to break the spell.
Neither of them respond as if waiting for the other to speak first. And undressing each other in their minds. Devin not-so-subtly eye-fucks Jenna. And Jenna’s blushing spreads below her neckline. Also, below the neckline, Jenna’s turgid nipples are ready to cut through her dress.
Hey, what the fuck, Jenna always wears a bra—even the other night when we watched porn. My gutter mind guesses she shuns panties too.
Aside from the heels, I had no say in Jenna’s attire and she hid from me like a bride before her wedding.
So seeing her now has pre-cum invading my boxers. The only say I was granted was that she did not shave her pussy hair. Her dress is tight enough to tell me she grants my wish. I want to see Devin’s reaction to her honey bush. I imagine his big lips and tongue navigating through her nether region and my legs wobble.
“Drinks anyone?” I say with a rising voice.
After a pause, Jenna says, “Luke, why don’t you open a nice bottle of champagne?” as she up and downs Devin again.
“Mmmm, sounds good, I’ll have some of that,” Devin says, licking his lips—and eye-fucking her again. I can tell that his deep green eyes are torturing Jenna’s nipples—and probably her lower lips.