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She’s not bored with sex. She’s bored with you.
That’s the first thing I can tell you about your wife. The sequence where you kiss her, suck her tits, and finger her is mechanically predictable. She tolerates the way you lick her clit—and only her clit—until your slobbering technique has left her barely wet enough.
After she finally gets you to stop by faking an orgasm, your wife keeps an eye on the bedside clock for those tedious two minutes twenty-four seconds it takes you to empty yourself. That’s your average, by the way.
You should also know she isn’t shy any more.
The first time I made love with your wife, she implored me to turn out the lights before she would take her clothes off.
“You don’t want to see me,” she said, ashamed of her self-image. “I haven’t been able to lose all the flab since my daughter was born. My boobies are sagging and my butt is huge.”
After considerable coaxing, I convinced her to let me look at her. I spent the better part of an afternoon worshiping every inch of her skin, from her dainty toes to those sensitive earlobes, without once laying a finger on her chest or between her legs.
Once her passion was awakened, I patiently adored her pale, lovely mounds and their fat, rosy-brown nips. She squirmed and gasped, muttering vague obscenities.
Little by little, my mouth and fingers moved down her luscious body to tease her pussy. Finally, when she was nearly ready to beg for release, I pursed my lips to suck on her clit. She shrieked, arching her back and shuddering as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure rolled through her. Slowly, she settled back onto the mattress, shivering with aftershocks.
“I’m sorry! I…I’ve never done that before,” she giggled. “I’ve always been quiet when I…you know…”
“Please don’t ever apologize to me for your joy,” I told her. Then we shared a long, heated kiss.
I led her to the bathroom, bending her over the vanity while I took her from behind. Coiling the auburn hair at her nape in my fist, I tugged her head back, making her watch herself in the mirror while the head of my cock stroked over and over against the spongy pad at the front of her cunt.
“Ohgod! Wh-what are you…?” she gasped. “I’m gonna…Ohgod! You’re gonna make me…”
“Look at her,” I said, drawing her attention to her reflection. “Isn’t she beautiful when she’s coming?”
“”Let me hear you again,” I said, embracing her breast and rolling the thick nub between my fingers. “Just let go.”
A powerful wail ascended from her lungs. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her chest and cheeks flushed. The climax subsided. She began to laugh.
“I’ve never climaxed from fucking. Not once. Fuck! That felt wonderful!” she said gleefully. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops. I said a dirty word.” She giggled again.
“Say it again. Go ahead. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, looking back at me in the mirror.
Grabbing both her biceps, I pulled her shoulders back, elbows together. She groaned at the edge of pain. Her tits were sticking out, her ass thrust back like an alley cat in heat. I drove my cock hard and fast, slamming savagely into her cunt.
“Yes!” she squealed, launching into a litany of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”
When I slammed my cock home, throwing my head back with a roar, she shivered and moaned softly as the warm come gushed into her belly, staring at herself and sighing, “Yes… Yes… So beautiful…”
No, she isn’t shy an longer. Your wife has become quite vocal whenever we make love. If you had actually made her come in the last three years, even once, you would understand what I mean.
Thanks to her own courage—with only a small effort on my part—she discovered her inner exhibitionist. She will eagerly suck me off under the table at a restaurant or while I’m driving down the freeway. We’ve fucked in dark, smelly back alleys, public bathrooms, behind the bushes at the park, and up against the windows of my fourth-floor office, her lovely, naked tits pressed to the glass in plain view of people on the sidewalk below.
One of her favorite diversions is to make me wait outside the dressing rooms when we shop for sexy lingerie. She’ll come out to model for me, parading the skimpy bra and panties where anyone can see. When she’s worked herself up, she drags me back inside to fuck her in front of the mirrors. I usually have to stuff the panties in her mouth so nobody calls security.
Along with her sexual emancipation came the third item on the list of things you should know about your wife. At least once or twice a month, she likes a cock in her ass.
At least, now she does. She would never tell you she enjoys it, because she’s afraid you would try it again. The one time was enough. It took months for me to convince her it didn’t have to hurt like that.
I started leading her that direction the first time I licked between her legs, casually letting my tongue slip down to rim her asshole. She fucking loved it. Who doesn’t?
With backroom casting porno successive dates my finger began playing more frequently at the lower entrance, then gradually creeping inside while I satiated my hunger for her delicious pussy. When I fucked her buns-up, doggie-style, I would dribble spit into her crack and tease your wife’s brownie, slowly penetrating its tightness. After a few times, a second finger joined the first.
It was easy to tell she wanted more. I made her ask for it.
She’d been inserting slender hints into our conversations, subtle puns and double-entendres with an enticing wiggle of her brow. Getting a good deal on a pair of shoes, she quipped, “The saleslady really took it up the rear on that one. Lucky girl.” Wiggle of the brows. Or telling me about a fender-bender she’d witnessed: “The guy in the truck rammed straight into her back end. How come that never happens to me?” Tight smile, and more brow wiggles.
We met in a hotel room near my office. Pulling off my tie, she said, “How about, um, something different?”
I had a good idea where she wanted to go, but feigned innocence.
“What sort of different?”
“You know…” She turned her backside toward me and patted it. “…Different.”
“Do you need another spanking?”
“No!” she said, but I could see the wheels turning. She’d learned that pink buns were a stimulating prelude to just about anything. “I was thinking maybe you could do that thing you’ve been wanting to do.”
She raised her arms for me to lift the brown pullover off her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I lowered my lips to her nipple. She drew in a sharp breath, clutching my head to her chest.
I looked up and said, “I don’t expect you to submit to something just because I want it.”
“What if…you know…what if I wanted it, too?”
“Do you want it?”
She nodded. I bent to her breasts again, kneading them with my fingers while my tongue lapped at the erect bud.
“What is it you want?” I asked.
“You bastard,” she said, trying to pinch off her smile. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“I thought we’d settled that. Anything you want, all you have to do is ask.” I pushed my hand under her skirt. My fingertips stroked her engorged labia. She wasn’t wearing panties, either.
“Will you, um, do me? Back there?”
I laughed. “You can come up with something better than that.”
“Fuck you! Alright, goddammit, you bastard. I want you to fuck me in the butt! I want your cock in my ass. I want you to screw my heinie ’til your come spurts in my bowels. I want—”
“Okay, okay!” I laughed again, embracing her for a deep, sensual kiss.
Knowing she would be tense, I relaxed her with a full massage, neck-to-instep, capping that off with a tender session of cunnilingus. I didn’t tease any more than needed to incite her arousal. Along the way, I licked her anus repeatedly, then worked my saliva-slicked middle finger into her rectum. By the time she came, I had two fingers stretching the clenching sphincter.
Recognizing this special moment was coming, I had begun bringing a bottle of lube to our rendezvous. Slathering up my fingers, I pushed her knees apart and back toward her chest, then twisted my well-oiled fingers back into her tight heat. My thumb hooked into her pussy, rubbing against my fingers through the thin wall.
“Mmm…” she moaned. Her eyes were droopy with lust.
“Is this okay?”
“Mmm-hmmm…” she nodded, playing with her titties.
Drizzling more lube down onto my fingers, I penetrated her with a third one. She whimpered softly.
“Nice,” she said quietly. “Is this how it’s going to feel when you…you know…?”
“It’ll hurt a little at first. Then you’ll open up and things will be fine. Even better than this.”
“You talk as though you’ve had…”
I stared at her, nodding gently. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew wide.
All three fingers were all the way in. The ring of her anus was loose, and she was nice and slippery. I squirted a healthy portion of lube on my cock. The sudden constriction around my fingers reflected a rise in her stress. I brought her foot to my mouth, sucking on her toes while continuing to ream her back door with my fingers.
When she had eased off again, I pulled my hand away and lowered my cock.
“When it starts to hurt, push out as if you’re trying to take a crap.”
“O-okay,” she said nervously.
Little-by-little, I fed my dick into your wife’s ass. She grunted and shivered when the head popped through the vise-like muscle, then pushed out the way I’d told her. I added more lube, then shoved myself a little deeper. She gasped, shuddering with the uncomfortable sensation of her entrails stretching around my invading cock. Her ass was everything I could have hoped for—a blazing hot, form-fitting glove.
“Oh! Ohmygod! I…I…fuck…!” she exclaimed when I rocked my hips, fucking her. “I thought it was going to be like…like my pussy.”
“Are you okay?”
She bangbros porno nodded quickly. “Yeah. It’s…it’s like you’re twisting me inside out. Wow. It’s so…so different.”
I laughed. “You said you wanted different.”
While I thoroughly plowed her tushie, my thumb diddled her clit. Soon after she came, I groaned as my balls gave up their load to her enthusiastic delight.
“Yes! I can feel it! Ohmygod!”
From that day on—except a short period last year during her second pregnancy when the doctor warned against it—the plundering of your wife’s ass has been a regular request that I was glad to oblige.
She told me you’d asked her to do it a couple of times since then, but she declined. She can’t trust that you would be careful enough. Trust is the most important element in any relationship.
Which brings us to the fourth thing you should be aware of. Your wife knows what happens at your annual conference in Vegas.
Maybe you have a subliminal urge to throw it in her face, foolishly thinking it might make her jealous and prompt her to step up her game. You’ve been pretty sloppy, leaving empty condom wrappers and lipstick-and-perfume-stained underwear in your suitcase for her to wash. She’s had a peek at the credit card statements you try so poorly to hide from her.
I understand. I lost the first love of my life with the same sort of arrogant stupidity. When everything fell apart, I blamed her for a long time. It was years before I figured out that I was the problem.
After taking her for granted for so long, your shenanigans made it easy for your wife to drift into the arms of another man, the same as it did with mine. It wasn’t that you cheated. She told me she could have forgiven that. But when she hinted at what she suspected, you made the same mistake as I did—you lied to her. That was what hurt her the most.
At first, she assumed it was her own fault, that there was something she could have done different. She wasn’t looking for revenge. When the opportunity presented itself, however, the decision to stray took little effort. It was just supposed to be a fling, a casual tryst so she could satisfy herself that she’d gotten even with you.
But I gave her the affection she’d been starving for. I touched her in ways she had never imagined, and lavished her with adoration and respect. I made her feel good, but more importantly, I made her feel good about herself. She wanted more, so she contacted me again. And again.
Now I see your wife once or twice a week. We don’t always fuck. Sometimes we just play with the kids at the park, or talk over coffee after she drops them off at Mother’s Morning Out or leaves them at her sister’s for the afternoon.
Yes, your flaky sister-in-law Ann knows all about what’s going on. She’s the one who introduced us, and her house is where we fucked the first time. I could tell you a dozen things about Ann—your wife says you’ve made unwelcome overtures to her sister—but the most important one you should know is that she needs a lot of pain before she comes. Not that I mind delivering the occasional spanking or titty torture, but she has a special penchant that only one man can satisfy.
You’re so ignorant, you probably haven’t noticed the changes in your wife. Her joy is obvious to others. Ann says she’s never seen her sister so full of life.
She’s not the only one who sees it. A month or so ago, I came to your house one afternoon. While the children had their naps, your wife and I fucked in your bed. That wasn’t the first time, by far.
I was in your den putting my shoes on when your daughter came in, up early from her nap. Jessie climbed onto my lap, the way she often did when I picked her Mom up at her Aunt Ann’s. She’s a bright and darling girl, and I’ve enjoyed reading stories to her and playing along with her stuffed animal games.
She hugged my neck tight, holding it for a long moment. She hadn’t done that before.
“Can you stay? I want you to play with me.”
“I wish I could, sweetie,” I kissed her forehead. “I have to go play grown-up games. I promise I’ll take you and your brother to the park again soon.”
“You’re my best friend. You know how to play good,” the innocent four-year-old said. Then she told me, “You make Mommy happy when you play with her, too. Daddy doesn’t know how to play good. I wish you were my daddy.”
Your wife says you hardly spend any time with your daughter, and you ignore her when she talks about me. Of course, your wife also told you that she has imaginary friends—and she did, for a while—so you probably don’t put too much stock in whatever a child says. Your wife is smart enough to go along with her daughter, hiding the truth in plain sight.
And by the way, the black hair on Jessie’s little brother and that dimple in his chin? You can stop trying to figure out which side of the family those came from.
Your wife says you’ve casually asked about her interest in other women. You think you’re being clever. You’re not. We all know your ulterior motive. I made the same beurette tour porno idiotic suggestion to my first wife, for the same reasons. My selfishness made everything go all haywire.
The fifth thing you’d be glad to know about your wife is that she followed through with your suggestion.
For your wife’s birthday two years ago, I invited an old friend to join us. He’s a well-built yoga instructor who is particularly well-built where it matters the most. Ann took the kids all day. We tag-teamed your wife, finishing up with my friend stretching her pussy while my cock pounded a counterpoint in her ass. You probably didn’t notice how dreamy-eyed she was that night, or how funny she walked.
One of the times after they had both come, I sucked the sticky remnants of their lovemaking from my friend’s heavy, deflating cock. Your wife was astonished. She knelt next to me, closely studying the way a man pleasures another man. I gave her a few pointers which she eagerly—and literally—ate up.
The next time we met, she wanted to talk about my homoerotic experiences. I asked about hers. She said she’d thought about it, but never found the right girl at the right time.
A few weeks later, you were out of town overnight for some meeting. The children were sleeping over with Aunt Ann, and we were enjoying a rare night out. Our waitress was a leggy, statuesque Oriental-American with long, sleek black hair and small tits. Your wife was pretending not to watch her, but I saw the hungry look.
“Would you like to fuck her?” I asked.
She drew in a sudden breath, realizing she’d been caught.
“That wasn’t the question. If you had the chance, would you fuck her?”
She gazed at the tall, elegant girl. Unconsciously, her tongued snaked out to quickly lick her lips.
“I wouldn’t know how.”
Snickering, I said, “Just imagine what you’d like, then do that to her.”
“What if she…I mean, she might not be…”
“Shall we find out?” I said.
Your wife stared at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Still unsure, she said, “Okay.”
It was already late on a slow weekday night. We engaged the waitress in several short conversations while she tended to the last of her customers. She was saucy, smiling wickedly at the occasional risque’ witticisms and offering a couple of her own. Her name tag read ‘Natalie’. She was a senior at the university, studying dance.
As I’d secretly suggested, your wife managed to make a reference to Natalie’s boyfriends. The waitress’s immediate downturned lips with a disgruntled shaking of the head and rolled eyes told us the coast was clear.
“We were both wondering what time your shift ends,” I said.
The tall waitress looked back and forth between us. “Both of you?” she said.
“As your time permits,” I answered, offering her a way out if she wasn’t interested in me. “I will serve only at the consent of you and my lover.”
“Your…your lover…” She glanced down at the ring on your wife’s hand.
“Yes,” your wife said, gazing at me with adoration in her eyes. “The most wonderful lover a woman could ask for.”
Pride and humility swelled inside me. I placed a tiny kiss on her lips.
We looked back at the waitress. There was a long hesitation. I knew this could go several directions.”
“I should be free by ten,” she said. “I’ve got all night. For both of you.”
We waited in the parking lot. Your wife was nervous.
“I wasn’t kidding,” I told her. “I can sleep in the spare room if you want her alone.”
“No! I need you there,” your wife insisted. With a sly smile, she said, “Besides, I want to watch how beautiful she looks when you fuck her.”
I was so proud of your wife. If you had only been honest with her, you could have had such a night.
And God, what a night. Your wife rode in Natalie’s car to give her directions to my condo. By the time we arrived, they were chatting easily. Natalie took your wife’s hand for the walk from the car. When I opened the door, I looked back to find them kissing.
Inside, the two women pursued their amorous interests while I fired up the gas logs to make it warm enough for naked bodies. When I returned from the kitchen with three flutes of champagne, they were still kissing. Except your wife was naked and Natalie was clad in only her panties. Hands wandered affectionately over each other’s bodies.
I didn’t interrupt until our guest nodded toward the champagne. Your wife was tenderly mouthing the tiny brown tips of Natalie’s small, conical breasts.
After taking a long sip, the tall woman—nearly as tall as me—beckoned me closer. She guided my hand to her other teat, then pulled me in for a warm, sensuous kiss. Her fingers floated down my torso to cup the hard bulge in my pants.
Natalie seemed to take a dominant role. She pushed your wife’s head away from her chest to tilt her glass up to your wife’s lips. They kissed again, passing the champagne between their mouths, then the slender Oriental led your wife to my long, leather sofa.
Removing my clothes, I took a seat on the far side of the room, admiring the two women while casually playing with myself. Natalie was on top, her narrow hips and slender beige lines such a contrast to your wife’s pale, luscious curves—she told me you hadn’t said a word about the twenty pounds she’d lost.
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