Wives with Benefits: Volume Two (7 page)

She laughed, “It was a little weird… but I didn’t mind. He took off my shoes, rubbed his face up against my stockings…”

“Takes all sorts,” I said, and now I was slipping down, kissing Lisa’s legs again. She did have shapely legs, that was true enough.

She smiled. “I asked him if he liked them, and he was all apologetic, like he’d accidentally drifted off, revealed what he’d wanted to keep hidden.

“I said it was all right. I peeled off my stockings, told him he could do whatever he wanted.”

I held her feet, kissed them.

She said, “It was… nice… he gave me a foot massage… only he was kissing me there, rubbing his face against them… Kind of turned me on… how much he was into them… I guess I like men if they’re a little kinky…”

She was beaming, ear-to-ear as I moved up her thighs, and kissed my way back to her pussy, to taste her, to enjoy her infidelity at the source.

She said, “I moved my feet to his… to his cock… he was so hard… he was panting as I touched him like that. As I stroked him. Oh God…”

Lisa groaned as I took her clit back in my hot mouth.

“He took off the rest of his clothes, stood by the side of the bed so I could suck on him while he kissed my feet, sucked on my toes…”

As I mentioned, I’ve never been into the whole feet thing, and will never be in all likelihood. But hearing of another man obsessing over my wife like that… it was darkly appealing.

For some time I feasted on her, and it was hot to me that Lisa might be lying there recalling her time with Paul, his obsession with her, and how it had been to suck on him. Lisa paused in her tale and simply enjoyed me going down on her, relaxed now concerning the issue of my enjoying her so soon after her previous encounter.

Then she seemed to realize I wanted to know more, so she continued, “He went down on me, too. I never thought men really enjoyed that… if they had a choice…”

“Of course we do,” I laughed, and continued going down on her.

“Then… I took off my dress, and… my underwear… he lay on the bed with me…”

“He fucked you?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. Now she was urging me up, up on my feet. I complied.

“How was it?”

“Weird,” she said, slipping down my pajama pants, taking my hardness in her hands. “Weird because it wasn’t you.”

“But you did enjoy it?”

She looked up at me, trying to work out if I wanted her to have enjoyed it, or if I might be upset that she had. Then she said, “I did enjoy it.”

She had to feel my cock throb in her hands. It made her giggle. Then she was stretching her lips around my tip, moaning as she bobbed her head forward, taking me inside her warm mouth, enjoying my full stiffness, this second cock of the night.

She was reconnecting with me, she was confirming that having found out about her adultery — albeit consensual adultery — I still loved her, I still wanted her, I still desired her. My quivering hardness was all the confirmation she needed.

“How was it?” I asked her at last. “How did he fuck you?”

She withdrew from me, but there was no longer any questions in her eyes concerning whether I really wanted to know this. Lisa turned around and presented her behind to me, kneeling there on the couch, clasping its back.

“Like this,” she said. “From behind.”

I stepped up, touched the tip of my cock to her slippery entrance, stroked her with it. She moaned, said, “He told me I could imagine it was my husband, if I wanted to.”

I chuckled at that. “And did you? Did you imagine it was me?”

“I don’t know… I tried,” she said, looking back to check on my response.

“You didn’t have to,” I smiled.

“It was just… he was different,” she explained.

“You liked knowing it was someone else,” I said, not really a question, an assertion. Asserting that it was okay with me. “It turned you on.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and then groaned long and loud as I thrust into her, filling her.

My God. Her pussy was lubricated with another man’s come. It was so wrong, so offensive to the civilized order of society. And yet that whole feeling of the taboo, of the forbidden, only made it seem that much hotter to me. I held her, my unfaithful wife, and I squeezed my full length into her.

Her pussy seemed different, and I was sure I wasn’t imagining it. It wasn’t just the presence of another man’s emissions. She’d been… stretched.

“He was big,” I said. Again, a statement. “Bigger than me.”

“Does that matter?”

“It’s just… interesting,” I said. I didn’t know why I found it interesting, why it added fuel to the fire inside me. I guess I liked to know my Lisa had been able to experience someone different to me.

“Sure, he was big,” she said, turning to witness how her words thrilled me, which in turn only encouraged her. “I was kinda surprised, actually.”

“You liked it like that?”

“It was just different, that’s all.”

“In a good way.”

She smiled. “In a good way. He had to go slow… but it felt good… like it was touching every part of me inside… filling me up… stretching me…”

I nearly exploded into her just then — and yet I wanted this time with her to keep going, and going, and going. I paused, withdrew from her, eased back.

She could see what she was doing to me, I knew it. She turned, and urged me down onto the couch, climbing over onto my lap.

“We could go upstairs to bed, you know,” she smiled.

I shook my head. “I think we’ll both collapse if we go near a bed.”

She manhandled my shaft, drew it up into position, then sank down, taking it back inside her heavenly channel.

“Can you even feel me in there, after him?” I joked.

“Of course,” she grinned, and began to squeeze the muscles in her hips to glide up and down my length.

She cradled my head in her hands, and rode me, and it was obvious how much she enjoyed it — even if I wasn’t as large as her new lover.

“So you’re… going to… see him again?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said, panting now, finding it difficult to speak. “That… okay?”

I felt the adrenaline coursing around my veins, though I should have known she would be planning on seeing this Paul guy multiple times. We’d talked about that, the need for her to see the chosen man a number of times, to raise the chances of conception.

“Sure,” I said, trying not to come until she had.

“You know… maximize… the chances… of…” she panted.

“Of conception,” I agreed. “We always… said you would.”

She smiled, then paused for a breather. “You weren’t supposed to be aware of the details,” she said. “I was supposed to be keeping this a secret from you.”

“But now I know,” I said, kissing her mouth. “And I want to know… everything.”

She began to move again, dancing over me, stirring her hips to jive on my shaft. Running my hands over her breasts, the curves of her back, her behind, down her thighs — I couldn’t believe how desirable she was to me, how much I craved her, how her liberated sexuality thrilled me so much. But it did. I kissed her mouth, I nuzzled against her neck, I buried my face between my breasts — and every moment, I could tell she’d been with another man.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she said, pausing once more.

“You can tell me anything.”

She nodded. “I have dates with three more men lined up.”

Well, that was a surprise. Again, I had to take care not to finish prematurely. My wife was considering seeing other men, other than Paul. Would she ever had told me? Our original plan was for her to see just one man.

“I know what we said,” she attempted to explain. “I was narrowing down the guys interested in me… and partly I couldn’t decide… partly I had every chance that my first date might flake out on me.”

“Only he didn’t,” I said. Now I was stirring my hips, moving my cock inside her.

“I know we only talked about me seeing one. But I thought if you didn’t know the details… what would be the harm? And if no one knew whose baby it was…”

I nodded. “Less chance of one getting curious about what might have been…”

She said, “They’ve all been tested, they’re all clean. But… I don’t have to… I can just stick to Paul if you want.”

“No,” I said, squeezing her behind, thrusting up into her. “I like the idea.”

“You do?”

I kissed her, hard. “It would increase chances of conception even more,” I said. She nodded. I added, “And it turns me on that you’d get to date other men, too.”

Her smile was bigger than ever, and as she started to move on me again, what I said clearly took her over the edge, her panting turning to little yelps, whimpers, her body shivering as the orgasm overwhelmed her.

And with that, my own climax was unstoppable.

“I love you, you know that?” she said as she collapsed against me, exhausted.

“Of course I do,” I replied.

“We’re going to have a family, can you believe it? I’m sure of it. We’re going to have a baby.”

“I’m sure of it, too,” I said. “And why stop at one?”

<<<>>>

She’s Seeing Someone

I did my research, I knew what the signs were that she was cheating.

Firstly, there were changes in her social patterns, and her behavior generally. She started going out with her friends much more regularly — I mean, before, she was hardly seeing them once a quarter; after, it was weekly, sometimes more.

I didn’t mind, I liked when Diana saw her friends, she’d come back refreshed, somehow, cheerful. Only, it started to get suspicious. I mean, dressing up so nicely for a night out with her old college buddies? And I know she was drinking a little more regularly, but I swear sometimes she came home and smelled of cigarettes. Where did that come from?

At weekends, there were unexpected shopping trips, and she’d come back after a few hours having bought nothing or very little. There were the unexpected phone calls, she’d have to slip out of the room to receive.

More time on the mobile phone generally, actually. Texting, emailing. Her promotion at work, apparently. But it all added up.

Then, again the result of her promotion, were all the late nights at the office. Two, maybe three times a week I wouldn’t see her until I was in bed — and frequently in the early days, I’d be asleep when she came home, and I wouldn’t see her until the morning.

Her business trips became more frequent, too.

Okay, so we were making a little more money these days, but suddenly she was spending more on clothes, on make-up, perfume, on going to the salon, on her appearance generally. Suddenly. She looked a little blonder, and was she working out? Oh, she looked wonderful for it, and even the boost to her self-confidence was worth it — I would have suggested it, had I known how much better it would make her feel generally.

But I was lumped with the question: why?

In the early days, our sex life suddenly improved. She seemed happier, more fulfilled at work — I assumed it was nothing other than her improved mood. She was more interested in sex, considerably. Sometimes she’d come home late from the office and wake me up. I wasn’t complaining about that — and my guess is that it distracted me. I was so content, I didn’t ask questions.

That was the thing — I was happy, so I didn’t try to figure out why she’d changed.

And then I was talking to my buddy Mark at work, and consoling him because he’d walked in on his wife in bed with one of the guys doing up their house, and what he said about how his wife had behaved in the weeks and months prior to catching her — well, it started ringing bells for me concerning my marriage.

The funny thing is, I was never angry about Diana, at any point. It started off with a kind of disbelief, a numb feeling, my head kind of reeling when it hit me, when all the characteristics Mark described about his cheating wife started to ring true regarding my own wife.

But I wasn’t angry at her. It was more like… I was interested. Fascinated, you might say.