suit was elegant and he was impeccably groomed –
manicured even. Armani, I surmised, but was surprised to see the
Zegna label come into view as I pulled his zipper down. This guy
was either upper class European (too refined for the ubiquitous
"Euro-trash" label – they would be wearing something garish and
obvious like Valentino), or old money from a cosmopolitan east
coast city, most likely New York. He hadn't said a word yet, so I
couldn't even tell if he was American.
In a daze, I removed his
trousers, then carefully folded them and set them on the table next
to the door. I was moving slowly, trying to get my head around what
was happening. I swallowed hard and caught my wife's eye. She would
push me if I faltered, but she wanted me to do it on my own. She
smiled gently and the love in her gaze melted my
reservations.
I pulled his boxer briefs
down and felt the weight of his already semi-erect penis in my
hand. It was a handsome cock befitting the owner. Men can't help
but compare; it's biological. Salvaging at least a drop of pride, I
noted that I was longer than him, but he was thicker – really
thick.
I raised his cock to my
lips and James leaned into me. This ensured that I didn't lose my
nerve. I didn't have time to balk as his cock invaded my mouth. It
pushed open my lips and slid down the length of my tongue. His cock
felt heavier and warmer than I anticipated, but the taste was not
unpleasant. The texture was also smoother than I had imagined. I
closed my lips around him and started to suck. He hardened and
pushed deeper.
My wife called out from
behind. "Take it out and lick the tip."
I obeyed and ran my tongue
all the way around the head like she does to me, flicking it across
the underside of his glans.
"Now push your cock all
the way into his mouth. Do it firmly and deeply before you are too
hard for him to take it completely." James complied. "Mmmm, so
delicious looking, so sexy."
After only a few thrusts,
I pushed him away. He had hardened almost completely and I could no
longer take him fully in my mouth. The image of a penis-shaped can
of Pepsi popped into my head – short, but stout as hell.
My wife suddenly appeared
behind me and held my head. She placed the tip of his erect penis
in my mouth again and gently guided it in and out for a few more
strokes.
"Good boy." She patted my
head. "I think he's hard enough now."
She pulled me to my feet
and pointed to the sofa. Again, I trudged across the room with my
head down and imagined them sniggering behind my back as I lay
down. I turned my head back toward them in time to catch Ana's
little black dress dropping to floor around her ankles.
My gaze traced the long
line of her shapely legs and I froze when I reached the top of her
stockings. The dark spot at the front of her low-rider, white
cotton panties was obvious.
This unmistakable sign of
her arousal was a slap in the face. James had aroused her. The
thought of fucking another man had made her wet.
With a deep breath, I
pushed down the wave of jealousy and tore my eyes off the wet spot.
I composed myself enough to admire my wife fully. Ana's luxurious
demi-cup bra barely covered her nipples. Together with the black
lace garter belt, they framed the flawless olive skin on her flat
stomach. The effect was completed perfectly by sheer, back-seam
stockings and a pair of elegant heels…well…almost perfectly.
Something was off.
She was wearing her
panties over the garters. This was not the sort of mistake my wife
would make. She had made a conscious decision to wear them on the
outside. The conclusion was inescapable. She intended to be fucked
tonight. And she wanted to have her stockings on when it happened.
That realization triggered a number of other questions in my mind.
When had she made this decision? Was it before she went out this
evening? After she had told Alessia and Thalia our fantasy? After
she met James?
She caught my eye with her
gaze and held it as she walked confidently