Free Double Teamed: Sharing Jenna by Lexi Rush Page A

I’m not complaining, but we head toward the inevitable: vanilla sex. Then, I have an idea pop into my other head...
    “Wanna watch a hot porno?”
    Jenna furrows her brows into an immediate no, but she hesitates, then says, “Are you serious?”
    It’s been months since we last watched porn—on a Saturday!—and I’m having a hard (pardon the pun) time with Jenna’s rejection. “C’mon, I watched a chick flick...”
    Can you guess her response?
    In a drawn out way, “Sure why not,” leaves her lips.
    I don’t hesitate. Like an Indy 500 pit stop, I plug my laptop into the TV and click on a favorite porn site in record time. As the menu of genres pops up, she blurts, “Do you really want to”—
    I cut her off, “Tell you what, you choose...”
    She shakes her head and says, “I don’t care...”
    “Just pick one.” I’m glaring at her and my bone threatens to descend.
    “Fine,” she says and like grabbing the remote earlier, she lunges to my mouse pad and pushes me aside. She moves the pointer around and passes over a few hot looking girl-on-girl covers before settling on Blacks on Blondes – Volume 7. My bone hardens into petrified wood.
    As it starts, with actually some clothed plot—if you can call it that with a straight face—a red-dressed white girl with fake tits and equally fake blonde hair is talking to a big black dude in a shiny dark business suit and top hat. If I didn’t know it was a porno, I’d have guessed it was the start of a Saturday Night Live skit. We can rule out Academy Award nominations.
    I dim the lights and climb in our King-sized bed, actually next to her. We are both laying back in our underwear. Regardless of the lack of acting skills, I notice a pre-cum dot on my boxers but the look on her face tells me her panties are still dry. The dialogue goes on a bit too long (by porno standards) and I worry Jenna’s going to bail on it any minute. But she doesn’t.
    Finally, our on-screen couple is now kissing. They are much more comfortable mauling each other’s mouths than talking. This is a stark contrast to Jenna and me—we don’t kiss passionately anymore, but we can sure use our mouths to nitpick. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. Jenna’s eyes are glistening and she flinches. I can tell this means she’s enjoying the show.
    The kissing is now including petting—hey, they can multi-task! Platinum-blondie is stroking the front of black businessman’s slacks as he slips his hand under her dress. This lasts about ten seconds and she drops to her knees and unzips him. And out pops, surprise surprise...
    A cock about the size of our wine bottle.
    I say, “Holy shit,” as Jenna shrieks, “Is that thing real?”
    Real or not, our actress wastes no time and cups his huge dangling shaved balls with one of her red fake finger-nailed hands while her red lipstick engulfs his bulging cock head. Her other hand grips his cock but pales compared to his colossal shaft. He flings his head back a little too much and grunts, “Yeah, suck it bitch.”
    Well, the dialogue differs a bit from the Aniston chick flick. I worry Jenna will hit the off button, but much to my amazement, her eyes seem glued to the screen, and her mouth hangs open. And her hand is sliding across her panties.
    She doesn’t even notice my wide eyes staring at her, so I start stroking my cock, unsure what’s hotter: the steamy blow job on-screen or my wife’s reaction . Both.
    “You like that baby?”
    Jenna flinches as if I caught her, well, masturbating. Her hand darts up to her stomach and freezes as she glares at my boxers and says, “Don’t you?”
    Though her tone is scolding, don’t you is her way of saying hell yes! I remain silent as the scene continues. Our leading lady is now slobbering all over this lucky bastard’s cock, taking him so deep my gag reflex almost kicks in. I hope Jenna has a good memory.
    I corner-eye Jenna as her hand slips under her panties for the second time. I