Hello,
First, let me say, this is my first post and every word is true and, owing to a previous career as reporter, even the dialogue below is pretty close to verbatim. Last week I caught my wife of six years, Catherine, doing something in bed she’s never done since I’ve known her: masturbating. Though it was quite the turn-on, I asked her why after all this time (we’ve actually known each other for eight years) would she all-of-a-sudden be so into pleasuring herself. She buried her face in the pillow as she covered her beautiful nude body and pleaded with me not to make her say. In as loving a way as I could, I insisted she tell me. Finally, she raised her head and in a halting, trembling voice, she told me why. She proceeded to relate to me a fantasy she’s been having since early February, after an awkward moment of happenstance at her office.
She asked me if I remembered all the meetings the small company she works for was having at the beginning of the year regarding a large deal they were putting together. I told her I remembered. She asked if I remembered how she had to work late a few times. I told her I did. She then described one particular evening in early February when she was working late preparing some reports for a meeting that was to take place the next day.
She told me she printed up her reports, went to the copy room to make enough copies for the next day’s meeting and went to distribute them to everyone’s office so they’d be able to look them over first thing in the morning before the meeting. Thinking she was alone in the office, she said, she simply went to each office and opened the door and dropped the reports on the desks. When she opened the door to Cam’s office, she told me she was so stunned she dropped the reports at her feet and covered her mouth with her hands.
I should say, at this point, that Cam is in his late-20s, about 6-2, guessing about 175 lbs and very athletic. Virtually every woman who has met him – and probably some guys too – say he’s very good looking. I suppose I’d have to agree.
When Catherine, my wife, opened the door, she said she was stunned to see Cam in his office, completely nude as he was changing out of his work clothes and into his gym clothes for an evening game of pick-up basketball at the athletic club where he works out.
As Catherine told me last weekend what happened that evening in February, she fought back tears because she believed I would be angry and even angrier that she’s been having all of these sexual fantasies about Cam since then, including while we’re making love. I told her lovingly I wasn’t angry, it’s just something that happened. But, as I said those words, my curiosity got the best of me as the image of her masturbating raced thru my mind.
I had to know. I asked Catherine what was it about Cam that had her fantasizing while we make love and, more to the point, splayed out on our bed with three fingers in her twat while she rubbed her clit furiously (I didn’t really word it like that, but thought the visual would help). Again, she buried her face in the pillow and said she couldn’t tell me. I promised her I wouldn’t be angry. She insisted I would. I promised with all of my heart I wouldn’t. She lifted her head reluctantly and yet almost excitedly described virtually every inch of Cam’s body, from his shoulders, to his pecs, to his biceps, to his six-pack abdomen, to his muscular thighs and calves. Notably, she left out one rather important part of Cam’s anatomy.
After taking a minute to absorb what she said and to try to evaluate how long she must have stood there staring at him, I told her I thought she was leaving out an important detail. She again, buried her face in the pillow and shook her head side-to-side almost violently. She said she couldn’t say it. I encouraged her gently to tell me. She protested. I insisted. Finally, after several minutes of back and forth, she realized I wasn’t going to relent. She, again, lifted her face from the pillow.
“What about it?” I asked.
“His cock?” she asked in return.
“Yes,” I replied.
With an almost gloss-like expression in her eyes and a smile slowly appearing across her angelic face, she said, “It was nice. Same size as everyone else's I guess but on him, with his nice body it looked good.”
Her words hung in the air. I could see from her distant expression she was picturing it perfectly in her mind’s eye. Catherine didn’t know or realize it, but I was becoming erect listening to her description.
“And …?” I encouraged her to continue.
“And,” she said, “the head was perfect and, even though I was several feet away, I could see the veins running the length of it. And he was completely shaved.” I was fully erect now.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“I wanted to touch it,” she responded, still more or less staring off into space and only glancing at me in passing. “I wanted to walk up to him and wrap my hands around it, and stroke it, and feel it, and play with his balls.” She clearly, was becoming re-aroused.
“Just touch it?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “I wanted to taste it. I wanted to lick it, run my tongue up and down it. I wanted to put it in my mouth and see how far I could take it. I wanted to feel all that cock in my mouth.” I’m straining against my denims now.
“Did you?” I asked. “Did you touch it? Taste it?”
The question seemed to bring her back to reality and, suddenly, she looked almost regretful, as though she were going to tell me she had indeed been intimate with Cam. Instead, she said she didn’t do anything. She said she mumbled an apology and slowly backed out of Cam’s office, closing the door as she did.
I asked her how long she had stood there looking at him, and she confessed it was probably about 30 seconds, during which time he made no effort to cover up and no words were spoken. Right then, I took Catherine in my arms and proceeded to make passionate love to her. Afterwards, I asked how things have been in the office and with Cam since that fateful evening. She said it’s been awkward and that neither really knows what to say to or do around the other. For the last week, my mind has been racing, because I think I know what needs to happen now.
Not long after we had a quiet but romantic dinner out in a restaurant where the booths afford a great deal of privacy. We were talking simply about this and that when a lull in the conversation before dessert was served provided the best opportunity to plant the seed (sorry, perhaps a poor choice of words). I took a fortifying swig of my Sam Adams and pretty much said exactly what was on my mind and what I wanted. Her eyes, at first, went wide with wonder. She gasped a little, had to take a sip of her merlot and take a second to reconcile what I had just told her. She asked if I was serious or just playing with her. I told her just like she couldn't stop thinking about what she saw and wanted, that I couldn't stop thinking about her staring at Cam and getting what she wanted. She stammered as her words didn't come easily. She, obviously, didn't know what to say. I told her we didn't have to talk about it anymore if it made her feel uncomfortable. She agreed. So, for the night the conversation, ceased.
Then, Catherine woke me up in the middle of the night that evening and told me she couldn't sleep and that she'd been thinking alot about what I said at dinner. She said she really, really needed to know if I was serious. I told her as long as she was into it for herself and not because I told her I had been thinking about it then, indeed, I was serious. She confided in me that yesterday at work Cam approached her for the first time since that evening and wanted to make sure they were "o.k.," professionally speaking. She said she told him that, professionally, everything's fine but that she'd been thinking about him, frequently and in not-very-professional ways. She said he smiled, chuckled a little bit and placed a hand on her shoulder which sent shivers down her spine and gave her goosebumps.
I sat up and asked her if anything happened. She said no, nothing happened, other than her going back to her office, locking her door and fingering herself to a muted orgasm. At that point, I pulled back the comforter and revealed the tent I had pitched under the sheets. She gasped my name and asked what was up with that. I told her the thought of watching her make love (I was careful to use the words "make love," not "fuck" or "have sex with") Cam turned me on tremendously and that I'd engaged in a little self-satisfaction while imagining it. She fell back on her pillow and sighed under her breath that she couldn't believe we were even discussing this.
I told her I just want whatever would make her happy. She then asked the inevitable question about what if she enjoys him more than she enjoys me. I laughed a subtle laugh and told her if her description of his body was even remotely accurate, then I was quite sure she would enjoy him more than she enjoys me and that I was fine with it, as long as at the end of the day it was me she loved. I promised her I wouldn't be jealous. (I was surprisingly lucid considering she'd woken me from a completely sound slumber and was able to articulate my thoughts pretty well.) She rebuked me in that I wouldn't be jealous. I promised again that as long as I could at least watch them together or was otherwise aware of their encounters, then it'd be extremely exciting for me. She kissed me passionately and we made love then fell asleep in each other's arms.
Then, as Catherine and I were leaving for work the next morning, she asked me what my schedule was like. I told her I had a couple of meetings but otherwise I'd be in my office. She said, with a coy expression, she might have something to call me about later.
Catherine called me during her break and asked if it would be okay if she brings someone home for dinner. I told her it's fine with me and, when I inquired as to whom she'd be bringing home for dinner, she demurely said, "a friend."
Then, Catherine called me from her cellphone and asked me which color looked better on her, black or red. I asked her why she was asking. She said she and a female co-worker were at the mall on their lunch hour and they were buying lingerie. Then she abruptly hung up before I could muster anything even remotely close to a response. I sat at my desk, frozen and holding the receiver in my hand, for about five minutes. I wasn't sure I was going to make it to the end of the day.
Just as I was about to leave work I thought I'd give Catherine a call to see if I needed to pick anything up for dinner tonight. She said ... and I quote ... "No thanks, hon, we've taken care of everything." ("we've" ?!?!?!?) I let the first person plural past tense pass without comment and offered to stop a pick up a bottle of wine at the package store near my office. Her response? Again, I quote: "If you think it might help." ????!!!!!! I couldn't wait to get home.
I arrived home after work to find not only Catherine's car but two other unfamiliar cars there as well. Upon entering our abode, I quickly saw Catherine in the kitchen - looking stunning - sipping a glass of merlot while putting the final touches on dinner. She gave me a hardy kiss and a devious wink then suggested I go keep our guests - plural - company while she finished in the kitchen. I put down my blazer and proceeded into our den where I found - wait for it - Cam and DeDe (the co-worker with whom Catherine had gone lingerie shopping on their lunch hour). I greeted both, DeDe with a kiss on the cheek and Cam with a manly handshake (I'm pretty sure he noticed my palms were somewhat sweaty but, to his credit, he said nothing). I offered to refresh both their drinks, did so, and proceeded to join them while making small talk about work and the like.
After a few minutes, Catherine called me into the kitchen to help her with something. As I entered the kitchen I noticed right away the glass of merlot had been refilled and the bottle from which she was pouring was about 2/3 empty. Obviously, she'd had a few even before I arrived. She told me she really didn't need my help at all but that she wanted to show me something, at which point she stepped back, hiked up her skirt to reveal stockings held up by garters (Catherine's legs were always one of my favorite parts of her anatomy). I thought she'd stop there but kept inching her skirt higher to reveal she wasn't wearing any panties, and that she was freshly shaved bare and that she was already quite turned on, judging from the glisten I spotted on the inside of her thigh. If I could have I would have taken her right there. But, she dropped her skirt, smiled an alluring smile, stared me straight in the eye then called out to our guests that dinner was ready.
My head was spinning. All throughout dinner I was half engaged in conversation. I kept wondering why DeDe was there. What exactly were Catherine's plans. Did Cam have any idea why he was there. I was at a serious informational disadvantage, which I supposed was exactly how Catherine wanted it. Obviously, I was seeing a side of her I'd never seen before. Part of me liked it. Part of me feared it. I didn't enjoy, however, not being in control. Not that it angered me, it just frustrated me to no end.
Each dinner course seemed to take forever. By the time we reached desert, I could barely remember my name. Catherine and DeDe disppeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, leaving Cam and myself at the table. Cam spoke first, breaking what to me seemed like an awkward silence. What did he say? He thanked me for having him over. My brain couldn't handle it. Was he thanking me for dinner, for our hospitality or for having him over to fuck my wife. Since I didn't know what he knew, I had no idea if there was hidden meaning behind his gratitude.
The ladies rejoined us, but only for a moment as DeDe informed us she had to get home. I shot a glance in Catherine's direction hoping to catch an expression which would tell me DeDe's departure was prearranged, and sure enough, I caught it. Just a slight grin while announcing that she'd walk DeDe to her car. Game on! Cam and I each stood to say goodbye to our departing guest as they walked toward the door and as I suggested he and I return to the den, where he took a seat on the sofa and I in the armchair.
Several minutes of small talk ensued before Catherine reentered, at which point she announced she wasn't up to doing any cleaning and that she wanted to get more comfortable. She disppeared into our bedroom for a few minutes while I clicked on the tv to ESPN. Talk of the NFL draft and the baseball season was interrupted by Catherine returning, wearing her nice robe (the one she wears when others are in the house, not the ratty one she wears when it's just she and I). She asked if either of us needed anything, to which we both said no. Then, though there were several other seats in which she could have sat, including another arm chair and a loveseat, she plopped herself down right next to Cam on the sofa, announcing as she came to rest next to him that she was exhuasted. With her stockings removed, she propped her beautiful bare feet on the coffee table in front of the sofa, allowing the robe to separate slightly about halfway up her thigh. I don't know if she did that intentionally, but it caught my attention and, I noticed, it caught Cam's attention as well. The part in the robe revealed to me a small section of a red silken undergarment which was not familiar to me. I had to shift in my armchair and recross my legs to obscure the erection which quickly shot to life in my slacks.
Whereas I was now growng increasingly anxious, Catherine was completely at ease (perhaps it was the bottle of merlot she'd put away). There was conversation but for the life of me I could not begin to say what topics were covered. It was just white noise to me as I couldn't take my eyes off her perfectly manicured toes, her beautifully arched feet, her tanned legs, the separated robe, the silken undergarment. My imagination had taken over. What did the lingerie look like. What was going to happen. Was Cam in. Then, as my eyes trailed up Catherine's body, I noticed she'd placed her left hand on Cam's knee and that he'd shifted his position to be facing her more, with his right ankle tucked below his left knee. It was then I saw it. He was now in profile from my point of view. My eyes went up from Catherine's hand on his knee, to his thigh to ... an hard bulge in his pants.
Then I noticed Catherine's hand had moved. It was no longer on his knee, but now it was on his thigh. She was making her move, subtle though certain. My heart was racing.
I was startled when I heard Catherine say my name. I looked up to see both of them looking at me, she with a mischevous grin and he ... well, with a somewhat uncertain expression. Catherine asked if I had heard what she said. Obviously, I hadn't. I asked her to repeat it. She said it had gotten late and that Cam had had quite a bit to drink, he should spend the night and she was asking if that was okay with me. I mumbled it was fine with me. At which point, Catherine said something about making him more comfortable and leaned forward and began taking off Cam's shoes for him. To me, he didn't look the least bit intoxicated nor in need of any assistance taking off his shoes. But there she was. After removing each shoe, she discreetly and lightly ran her finger along the length of the top of his foot (and quite the large feet they were). He certainly noticed and smiled at her as she did.
Then, Catherine shifted positions. She layed her head down on a pillow at the opposite end of the sofa from Cam, swung her legs up and put her feet in his lap. She then asked him to give her a foot massage. Cam was taken a bit aback. Not sure what to do, he looked over at me with an expression seeking my approval. (It was then I realized Cam didn't know the real reason he was there). Before I could tell him to go ahead, Catherine spoke up and told Cam not to worry about or mind me ... that I hated giving foot massages. Cam looked at me again. I nodded agreement with what Catherine had said.
It was a sight to behold. Catherine's petite feet in his large, muscular, hands. Her releasing a slight moan every now and then, and telling him in a not-overly-sultry way how good it felt. Catherine mentioned how her high heel shoes hurt her achilles tendon and her calves and asked Cam if he could apply some massage magic to those affected areas. Again, he looked at me for approval. I nodded it was okay. His hands trailed down over her heels and toward her calves. As he massaged the backs of her legs, Catherine - who was laying back with her eyes closed - shifted ever so slightly, parting her legs enough to tease but not to reveal. Again, I don't know if it was intentional or not, but I certainly caught Cam subtely adjusting his position for a chance at a better sightline.
I think Catherine was waiting for Cam to take the initiative at that point. She didn't say much more, other than the occasional moan and he seemed to massage her feet and lower legs for about 45 minutes. I don't know. Maybe she fell asleep. All I know for sure is how much I enjoyed seeing it (while pretending to be watching SportsCenter).
Both of us were startled when Catherine asked, "you boys like what you see?"
Cam was so startled when he heard Catherine speak he literally dropped her foot in his lap. He stammered to speak but couldn't produce a coherent sentence. He kept trying to apologize, but was so flustered it sounded like he was gargling.
Catherine raised herself up on her elbows and smiled, gently trying to "shush" him and lifted her foot to his face and pressed her toes to his lips, as if to tell him not to talk. She then glanced over at me and kind of cocked her head to one side then looked back at him. She then moved her left leg to his right shoulder and hooked her foot behind his head. Using that as leverage, she lifted her ass off the sofa, reached down with her hands, and began sliding her bottoms toward her knees (I had thought the lingerie was a one-piece, but found out here it, in fact, was a separate top and a bottom). She slid them down as far as she could then asked Cam to remove them the rest of the way. He looked at her quizzically, then looked at me dumbfounded. I whispered to him to go ahead and do as she asked. He mumbled back that nothing like this had ever happened to him before. I whispered back nothing like this had ever happened to us before either.
He tentatively reached down, took hold of the waistband and slowly slid the lingerie bottoms off, revealing Catherine's pussy in all it's moist glory. She reclined fully again, and with her foot back around Cam's head, she used it to pull his face to her pussy. He appeared to hesitate ... or resist ... a little, so to entice him (I suppose), Catherine reached down and began to play with herself (this always drove me crazy ... watching her spread her pussy lips, caress her clit and slide a finger in and out of herself). She rubbed her clit for only a moment, then slid her index finger into her pussy. When she withdrew it, I had never seen her so wet. She moaned. Then, she slid in two fingers, moaning even louder and and withdrawing them possibly wetter then before.
I head Cam mumble the word "amazing." He was mesmerized. His face only inches from Catherine's pussy. The aroma must have been nearly irresistable, and yet he didn't dive in. Catherine continued her enticement, this time sliding in three fingers (she'd never done that for me before) and jilled herself several times before pulling them out, raising her fingers to her mouth and licking and sucking them clean (never done that before either). Then back down with four fingers, leaving only her thumb free. She jilled herself hard before pulling her fingers out, bringing Cam's face closer to her pussy with her foot then placing her juice-soaked fingers to his lips. Still he didn't take the bait.
Catherine looked at me with an expression of "what should I do now?" I was too busy rubbing myself thru my slacks. I shrugged. She looked back at Cam, shifted so she was laying on her right side. She removed her leg from his shoulder and brought her left knee to her breast. She reached around her back, caressing her ass cheek as she did, then reached down and delicately caressed her pussy lips.
Then the unthinkable. Her finger slowly trailed back over its path and came to rest at her asshole, where she began to apply pressure, slowly wiggling it back and forth, pushing firmly against her tight opening. I looked at Catherine's face and saw her eyes rolling back in her head before closing them. I looked back at her finger just in time to see the tip of her red fingernail disappear into her ass, followed by her fingertip, then the first knuckle, then the second. She moaned loudly. I began rubbing myself harder and saw for the first time Cam reach down to his own dick to make an adjustment. She pulled the finger out. (Catherine had never even acknowledged having an asshole before. Certainly, never let me fuck her in the ass and quite certainly never having masturbated herself in the ass before. This was uncharted territory.) She slid the finger back in her ass, pass the first knuckle, to the second and past that. Then deeper. I could tell she was in a little pain but that she was liking it still the same. The finger withdrew and then quickly was slid back in, this time all the way down to her third knuckle. Catherine released an audible gasp. She jilled herself in the ass with one finger for about twenty seconds. I thought she was going to cum. She withdrew the finger, opened her eyes and looked at me quickly before fixing her gaze on Cam. She said his name and told him what she was about to do was strictly for him. She proceeded to slide two fingers into her ass, jilling herself easily, then she added a third and jilled some more before pulling them all out. She released his head from the pull of her leg, sat up, took his chin in the palm of her left hand, looked him straight in the eye before delicately kissing his lips and whispering that she wanted him to fuck her in the ass.
I started to cum in my slacks. Her hands trailed down his chest and found his belt buckle, pants button and zipper. Then they trailed back up and opened the buttons on his shirt, which she promptly pushed off his shoulders. Then she kissed and licked her way down his neck to his pecs and proceeded to suck and bite his nipples while her hands worked feverishly to release his cock from his pants.
Suddenly, Cam wasn't seeking my permission or approval any longer. I'm not even sure if he cared whether I was there or not. His hands were all over Catherine and she was living every second of it, as she fumbled to free his cock from his pants.
With that, Cam abruptly removed Catherine's lingerie top. She was completely nude, completely exposed. She was giving herself to him right in front of me.
Cam's shirt was completely off, revealing a ripped body. Catherine told him to stand up in front of the sofa and face her. He did. She now had unfettered access to all that was hindering her efforts to get to his cock.
Catherine pushed his pants all the way to the floor. He stepped out of them as she removed his socks. As she bent down to do so, I saw her cheek brush up against the shaft and head of his beautiful cock.
"I want you to make love to me like you've never made love to anyone," she told him. "I want to feel every inch inside me."
Cam glanced at me. "Is he gonna be here?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied, and before he could protest, she took the head of his cock in her mouth.
Then, Catherine turned all of her attention back to Cam. She jerked his cock with both hands. She'd let go occasionally to run her hands up and down his six-pack abs and his muscular chest, down his sides, over his hips, and down his thighs. Her hands traced a path between his legs, reaching up to run a finger or two down the length of the crack of his ass and over his testicles. All the while, she had the head of his cock in her mouth and when her hands were free, she'd hold his cock straight up so she could lick the length of the shaft and tongue his balls.
Finally, she leaned back against the sofa cushions and spread her legs, giving Cam full access to her pussy. He obliged happily, getting down on his knees and burying his face between her legs. He didn't bother with any kind of sensitive touching or tongue-teasing. He went straight for it. He was licking and munching away. Catherine was in extacy. She began squeezing her tits and pinching her bullet-hard nipples (never seen her do that for me).
"I can't wait anymore," she told Cam after only 30 seconds or so. "I need you now. I need you inside me."
Cam pulled his face from her pussy, the area around his mouth literraly dripping with her juices.
And with that he penetrated Catherine's pussy. She mouthed "I love you" to me just before her eyes rolled back in their sockets and the lids closed as she released an emphatic moan.
I was cucked.
Cam showed no signs of being on the verge of cumming. He looked good to go a while.
Then with no warning to her whatsoever, he plunged into Catherine's ass. She let a scream so loud I feared neighbors would hear. Lubricated with her juices, he managed to get the entire shaft in her ass. I saw one of Catherine's hands between her legs playing with her pussy.
Then I heard him say, "I'm gonna cum."
Catherine, upon hearing that, managed to maneuver her ass off of Cam's cock, twirled around quickly and situated herself on the floor so that he could cum in her mouth and / or on her face (NEVER done that for me!). He stood up, stroking himself, he bent his legs, positioned himself directly over Catherine's face. She opened her mouth and he began to spew his cum. So much cum.
Cam collapsed into a sitting position on the floor next to Catherine. They both sat there, looking at each other, caressing each other's chests, smiling at each other, catching their breath.
Cam left after that and Catherine came to me with a sheepish grin. She wantd to fuck me and we did reliving every moment. She said she doesn't want to see him again since he works with her and the night was so perfect but is willing to explore other options. I was okay with everything she said and can't wait to see what she has in mind although it might be awhile.
Cyrill and Catherine
