by D. L. Savage
Again I felt myself bristling, so much so that I had to fight back the urge to grip the arm of the couch. After all, since Alice and I had gotten together we’d only been with each other, and hearing my wife talk like that about another guy made me feel weird to say the least.
I guess I knew on some level that she must fantasize about other people the way I often did (I’d jacked off over girls I'd seen in the gym, a few chicks from my work, and of course plenty of times while watching porn). But even so, actually hearing my pretty young wife say out loud that she wanted to suck another guy’s cock? Let’s just say it made me feel kinda odd; jealous and frustrated and turned on, all at the same time. So when I felt her hand slipping down to my thigh a moment later, her long slender fingers massaging my crotch through my jeans, I’m ashamed to admit that I was already growing hard despite myself.
“Let’s pretend,” she continued, her voice an insinuating whisper now as she curled up closer to me, her breath dancing on the tingling skin of my neck, “that you’re Bradley Stark and I’ve come back stage after a concert ...”
Again I felt it: that strange spike of jealousy at the thought of my wife getting hot and heavy with another guy mingled in with a powerful charge of horniness. We’d never done anything like this before, actually moving into what I guess you’d call role play, and I let out a gasp of surprise I felt her actually starting to tug open my belt buckle then unbutton my jeans.
“Oh Bradley,” Alice teased as she slipped down off the couch and positioned herself between my legs, “I’ve waited for this moment for so long ...”
I sat there frozen, the breath catching in my throat as I stared down at her, watching on as she hungrily freed my rock hard cock from my pants and moved her pretty tanned face closer and closer toward it.
“Ooh, it’s so big,” she continued, wrapping her slender fingers around the shaft of my cock and starting to jack it.
I felt another sharp pang of jealousy at her words, because the truth of the matter was that I was ‘average-sized’ at best (and even that was pushing it). Back in college, I’d had to make up for my small cock by working on my body, my confidence, my looks, and Alice knew that I was somewhat insecure about my dick size. But right now, she really did seem lost in her fantasy, letting out another throaty purr of desire as she began to run the head of my cock back and forth against her glossy lips, occasionally licking at the underside of my shaft with her wet pink tongue.
I felt my muscles clenching and my head spinning with conflicting thoughts. Part of me wanted to push her off me, to tell her that this stupid role play had gone too far. Another part of me was getting super turned on by the idea of her with another guy. And on top of all that, it had been ages since she’d blown me, and as I felt the warmth of her mouth finally envelop my dick I couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure through gritted teeth.
I gazed down at her, watching as her blue eyes closed once more and she began to bob her head, faster and faster, like she wanted nothing more than for me to fill her mouth with my cum.
“You taste so good, Bradley,” she murmured, pulling her mouth from my cock for a moment to lick all up and down my shaft then bathe my balls with her tongue, while one of her hands slipped beneath her dress, no doubt to tease her soaking wet pussy. “Cum for me ... Please.”
With those final words she took my cock deep into her mouth once more, sucking and slurping until I couldn’t take it any longer. With a final groan I felt myself let go, my cock pulsing, flooding her mouth with what felt like a monster load, and it seemed like Alice came too, her hand moving fast between her legs and a muffled whimper rising up from her throat, her lips clamping tight around my pulsing cock until she’d drained me dry.
And unlike the other times she’d blown me, when she’d dash off to the nearest basin afterwards to spit it out, tonight she gulped it back in one, even grinning afterwards like the cat that had got the cream.
“Mmm,” she sighed. “That was so good ...”
I had to admit, it had been pretty fun, and in my post orgasm glow I found myself thinking that maybe a little role play wasn’t so bad after all.
I mean, what was the worst that could happen … right?
2
About a week later, I was sitting in the den, kicking back, when I heard what could only be described as a shriek coming from the kitchen.
Startled, I pushed myself to my feet, picturing some kind of terrible accident – maybe Alice had hurt herself and needed rushing to the emergency room – but when I raced down the hall to check what was going on, I found her standing in the middle of the kitchen with the cordless phone pressed to her ear and a huge grin plastered across her pretty face.
“Laura listen,” she said breathlessly, “I’d better go, but thank you so much. I just can’t wait. This is going to be freaking awesome!”
She let out another loud squeal, jumping up and down so frantically her ample breasts started bouncing in her vest top, then hung up the call, turning to me with a flushed pink face, her blue eyes glittering.
“Oh my god, Mark,” she gushed, “guess who that was?”
“I don’t need to guess,” I deadpanned. “It was Laura.”
Laura was Alice’s college buddy. They’d stayed in touch ever since they both graduated, and unlike Alice, Laura was still single and always trying to drag my wife out to bars to play wing-woman. But it turned out that in this instance, what Alice’s BFF had in store for her was something else entirely …
“Alright, smartass,” Alice continued, “it was Laura. But can you guess what she was calling about?”
“Come on,” I sighed, “enough games. Just spit it out.”
“He’s coming at the end of the month!” Laura replied breathlessly, looking like she was about to start screaming the goddamn house down again.
In my startled state I still hadn’t put two and two together.
“Who?” I persisted. “Who’s coming?”
“Bradley Stark,” she replied her voice actually trembling with excitement. “He’s playing in the city for one night only and Laura’s bought us tickets.”
“Oh cool,” I croaked, trying to stay calm, while at the same time feeling like someone had punched me straight in the gut. “That’s really awesome of her,” I added. But of course, all I could think about was our little episode on the couch last week – the fucked up horny thoughts I’d had about my wife with another guy and of course Alice’s ‘free pass’.
“I just can't wait,” she gushed, lost in her own world and totally oblivious to my change in mood. “It’s gonna be so great. I'm gonna have to get a whole new outfit and get my hair done and …”
I can see now, this was the exact moment I should have said something – should’ve checked all over again about our stupid goddamn free pass thing, found out if it really held water or if it had just been some drunken joke between us.
But standing there in the kitchen, watching my wife get so excited, I simply couldn't bring myself to. Maybe I didn't want to harsh her buzz; after all we both knew she’d had it pretty tough at work recently, and definitely needed something to look forward to.
And on top of that I guess I have to admit that a fucked up part of me felt it again: that weird pang of horny anticipation at the idea of her actually making it back stage somehow and sucking his cock.
Instead I just kept quiet, letting her race out the room, while my stomach twisted up in nervous apprehension …
* * *
So began what seemed like a whole month of preparation on Alice's part. Practically the moment she’d told me about the concert, she’d busted out one of her old workout DVDs, rolling out her yoga mat in the den and spending half an hour a night sweating away, toning her body with free weights and cardio while some bitchy female instructor screamed at her from the flat screen TV.
That wasn't all, either. She also placed herself on a calorie restricted diet, and had booked herself a whole host of appointments at the tanning place
, nail bar and hair salon, the works.
You might think I was being a little crazy to think that anything would actually happen between her and this Bradley Stark dude – and I admit, maybe I was getting myself kinda worked up over nothing. But at the same time, the thing about Alice was that she was super hot: tall, leggy, pretty as hell, and while we’d both got a little comfortable in our marriage and put on a few pounds, I knew that with a little fine tuning she really might be the kind of babe that could catch his eye from the front row of a concert.
After all, she was still only in her late twenties and could definitely still pull off that whole slutty blonde party girl vibe when she wanted to, especially with Laura there, encouraging her.
So as Alice got ready, primping and preening and toning her body in preparation for the concert, I found myself wondering just what I could do to keep a close eye on her …
3
“Please Clara?” I begged, a few days later.
As I sat there on the beat up couch in my little sister’s cluttered apartment, I found myself frantically scanning my mind, trying to remember if she still owed me any favors. I mean, sure there was the time I'd covered for her back when Mom had found all those empty beer bottles after a party and I'd said they were mine because I was just about old enough to drink while she was still sixteen. But that was almost ten years ago, and I knew it would make me look even more pathetic to still be holding onto kid’s stuff like that.
Instead, I figured my best option was to simply tell her the truth and hope that she might find it in her heart to help me out. But it seemed like I wasn’t in luck.
“No fucking way!” Clara laughed, shaking her head so emphatically it sent her cropped brown hair dancing around her chin as she pushed herself up to her feet, pacing before me as she spoke. “I’m not spying on my own sister in law on a night out, just because you’ve become a paranoid asshole! And if she caught me, she’d hate my guts forever! You just need to trust her, Mike. People joke about that stupid free pass shit all the time. But do you really think Alice is gonna sleep with some sleazy pop star?”
As Clara said the words, I felt it again: that odd gnawing flash of excitement at the idea. But this was another damn reason I wanted to put a stop to this whole thing. I wasn’t some goddamn cuck …
“Honestly yes, I think that if she had the chance she’d fuck him,” I replied, hanging my head in my hands. “I know how bad that sounds, Clara, but I feel like she really would. We shook on it, and you know what she can be like. Remember that time on holiday when she was streaking around the pool? She can get pretty wild ... C’mon, you’re not much better yourself when you’ve had a few tequilas!”
“Hey,” Clara gasped, making to punch me on the arm. But at the same time, it was true and she knew it. My younger sister definitely liked to party.
“Please sis, I’m asking for a real favor here,” I pleaded, my face burning with shame. “Don’t make me grovel,” I added quietly.
“Look, Mike,” she replied, “I’m afraid the answer’s no. There’s such a thing as Girl Code you know. I can’t go spying on my sister in law. Why don’t you just go yourself?”
“Because some dude standing on his own in the crowd full of women would stand out like a sore thumb,” I shot back, clenching my fists as my frustration grew. “I’d be the only guy there.”
“But what if you weren’t,” she replied, a strange expression flashing across her face as her big brown eyes caught mine.
“What if I wasn’t what?” I asked, totally confused.
“What if you weren’t a dude,” she said quietly, her thin lips curling into a smile.
“I still don’t follow,” I mumbled.
“Remember that summer when all my friends ditched me?” she replied, her smirk getting bigger. “Back when I fourteen and just getting into makeup and boys? And I was hanging around the house feeling sorry for myself all vacation ...”
“Yeah?” I replied quietly, still not sure what she was getting at.
“And that afternoon when you cheered me up by letting me do a makeover on you, so that I could practice my makeup skills?”
“Oh hell no,” I gasped as her crackpot scheme finally became clear, pushing myself up from the beat up couch and backing away from her, palms raised, almost like I suspected she’d start slapping makeup on me right that second.
I waited for her expression to change, for her to crumple into laughter and tell me she was just fucking with me, but instead it seemed as if she were being totally serious, a strange glint in her eyes as she said quietly, “You actually have pretty good bone structure, Mike. You’re relatively pretty for a guy, and seriously? With a little work, I think we could seriously turn you into a pretty passable chick.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” I groaned, fishing my car keys out of my back pocket and backing into the hall.
“Suit yourself,” she called after me. “But the offer’s there if you change your mind ...”
* * *
I pulled open the door to my car and climbed in, but I felt too distracted to think about driving just yet. Instead, I slumped down in my seat and closed my eyes, massaging my throbbing temples as I cycled through the options in my head.
Maybe I could hire a private detective to follow her and intervene if something looked like it was going to happen? But I knew deep down that a PI would cost a shit ton of money – money Alice and I didn’t have lying around.
I’d have to fiddle our accounts somewhat just to afford to pick up one of the remaining Bradley Stark tickets online, and a PI’s fees on top of that? No goddamn way.
Then I wondered if there were any other female friends or colleagues I had who might be willing to go in my place, but deep down I knew that if my own flesh and blood wasn’t willing to break the sacred ‘girl code’ then some chick from my office sure as hell wouldn’t.
Another option reared its head: just letting her go and allowing myself to delve deeper into this fucked up part of me that actually enjoyed the idea of my own wife with another guy. But I’d be damned if I was gonna turn myself a card-carry cuck if I could help it.
I let out a deep sigh of pure frustration. It really seemed like Clara’s suggestion of actually making me over was about my only option left.
I sunk down even deeper into the seat of my car, my fingers absentmindedly grabbing a few tufts of hair on either side of my head and pulling at them until I winced.
There had to be some other way. But what?
I could feel Clara’s stupid suggestion gnawing at me; the idea that maybe, just maybe she really could transform me into a passable woman. After all, it would be dark at the concert, and all I'd have to do was make it in inside the venue then hang back and watch Alice and Laura from a distance. And even if it didn't look one-hundred percent realistic, even if I just looked like some transgender chick or whatever, it would still work as a disguise.
God damn it, I thought, as I felt a prickle of cold sweat break out across my skin, realizing that this might be my only option…
4
“Hey honey, I’m home!”
Alice's voice echoed excitedly through the house as she returned from her Saturday afternoon shopping trip with Laura, and I felt myself bristling as I slumped on the couch, beer in one hand and a re-run of Rocky 2 playing on the large flat screen TV in the den, turning down the volume just moments before she came crashing into the room in a whirlwind of energy.
“So what do you think?” she announced, dumping a whole bunch of bags at her feet and then giving me a twirl.
The first thing I noticed was her hair. It seemed as if she’d had subtle waves put into it, and on top of that, it now fell just above her shoulders instead of halfway down her back.
Then I noticed her skin – she was wearing her usual outfit of white vest top and denim cutoffs, and today in contrast her body seemed to glow a deep honey gold, which I guessed meant she must have had a bumper appointment at the tanning salon. Staring at her like th
at, glowing and golden, I couldn’t help but let my mind flit back to her time as a college party chick.
“Looking good,” I admitted, unable to stop myself from adding, “what’s the big occasion?”
“Bradley Stark tomorrow night, silly,” she shot back without a pause. “You wanna see what else I got?” she teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“Sure,” I replied, wondering what it could be.
I felt my breath catch in my throat as she reached to her shorts and began to unbutton then, revealing a pair of white lacy panties. She hooked a freshly manicured nail into the top of the panties, tugging them down just enough to reveal her pussy, which I saw was now totally smooth and bare, save from a small, perfectly straight line of dark blonde hair that ran up from above her clit like a landing strip.
“I got a Brazilian!” she giggled. “You like?”
“It looks great,” I croaked, feeling a fresh shot of blood to my cock. But it wasn’t just from the sight of my wife’s freshly shaved pussy. It was also from the thought that she was doing this for another guy.
“You’re turning me on,” I growled, nodding down at my boner which was making a pretty big tent in my track pants. “You wanna take care of this for me?”
“Sorry, baby,” she said, buttoning her fly again then turning on her heel, “no can do. I gotta do my daily workout, remember? But don’t worry, you stay down here with your movie and relax. I’ll go use the TV in the bedroom for my DVD ...”
With that she was gone, racing back out of the den, leaving me sitting on the couch, heart hammering, head spinning, mind racing with images of her showing Bradley Stark her pussy ...
Of course, as you can imagine, I couldn't concentrate on the movie any more, and instead I felt my gaze instead drawn to the bunch of shopping bags she’d left in a pile over by the door. There was one in particular that caught my eye, a pale pink bag with black lettering that read Victoria’s Secret.