Wives with Benefits: Volume One (14 page)

Slowly, she rode him, her whole body writhing on top of him as she fought for breath while she fucked him, hands on her thighs, her mouth open, her head tilted slightly back even as she did her utmost to maintain eye contact with me.  

“Oh God… oh God…” 

Her body shook, her hair swayed as she accelerated over him, until she moved to steady her pace, not wanting to overcook things just yet. She leaned forward, so that she was on her hands and knees facing toward me, now rocking back and forth to maintain his thrusting inside her as she gazed over in my direction. 

“Is this everything you hoped it would be?” she asked me.

“Better.”

I glanced at Daryl, wondering what he thought of all this. He was fairly focused on her, though, watching her, fixed on her behind as she bounced on him. This wasn’t about him, and he knew it. 

“I’m fucking someone else,” she said, as though mulling the words around in her mouth, checking out how they sounded. 

“That’s right.”

“I’m cheating on you, honey.”

“Except that I’m here, sweetie, I’m with you.”

“I’m fucking the biggest dick I ever saw.”

“You look so beautiful doing it.”

Gasping for breath, biting her lip, smiling at me when she could. 

“He’s stretching me… Oh God…”

I don’t think I ever saw anything as exquisite as when she came just then, the way it seemed to take her unawares, she didn’t need to do anything to provoke it, to time it to coincide with mine, or fake it during one of our quickie sessions, which had come to be the norm more often than not for us.

Then she sat up, and leaned back to tell Daryl: “Take me from behind.”

She lined up on all fours again, only this time her hands were on the edge of the mattress as Daryl knelt up behind her, manhandling himself until he could re-enter her doggy-style.

God, it was so hot to gaze into her eyes as another man slotted into her from behind, her body shaking with each thrust, her head nodding, hair shivering, breasts and nipples quivering.  

Daryl was quite a specimen, his bulging muscles glistening with perspiration as they flexed with the increasingly powerful pounding of my wife. He seemed to have boundless energy. I envied his youth, and yet at the same time I figured he could not possibly experience what I was, as the husband of the beautiful woman he was defiling. 

Marissa just could not stop smiling, it must have been hurting her face, she was smiling so much. It only went away as the intensity of her penetration became too much, her face taking on the kind of pained expression that suggested she might come yet again. 

My wife sank down on her elbows, pushing up her rear for Daryl, while seeming to get so close to me it was positively intimate.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” she said. I was suddenly a touch concerned that she might be getting anxious about whether this was damaging our relationship.

“Of course.”

“I just feel so selfish, like I’m getting all the pleasure.”

“You’re not getting all the pleasure. This isn’t just about you, honey,” I said. 

“Come here,” she said, insistent.

8

I stood up, somewhat bemused. I wasn’t quite sure what she wanted, but I complied. Stood up, took one step forward. Daryl gave me a mischievous smile now, as though he knew where this was going, and had done it all before. 

Marissa reached out for my hardness, pulling me with it toward her, looking up like a penitent sinner. “Am I so greedy? I want this one as well…”

Who was I to object? I brushed her hair out of her face and she licked her lips, flashing a wicked grin before licking me, opening her mouth to take me inside her while another man fucked her from behind. 

We hadn’t really talked about a threesome. We’d fantasized about her being with another man, my role being either to watch or to hear about it afterwards, and maybe reclaim her afterwards.

Withdrawing me momentarily, she looked up at me, strangely bashful. “This is…kind of my fantasy,” she said sheepishly. 

I chuckled, “What, the one you entirely failed to tell me about after I exposed my own?”

She giggled. “Two guys at once. What can I say?”

She stuffed my cock back inside her mouth as though desperate to feel two cocks within her. I held her hair back, and increasingly held her head, fucking her face while another, younger man fucked her pussy.

I was impressing myself with how long I was able to take this, but it was clear that Marissa was managing me to some degree, breaking off every now and then to lash me with her tongue or plant little kisses over my length — enjoying me, enjoying the ownership of two cocks at once, though the other man’s did not have a break, relentlessly piling into her from the opposite end.

After a while, though, she broke off from both of us, turning to present herself for me missionary style, though on the edge of the bed. 

Her pussy was red from use by her new lover, and so wet. I ducked down for a brief taste, the synthetic flavor of the condom making me shudder as I sampled her elixir, and the scent of her other lover lingering on her skin was almost intoxicating to me.

When I slid inside her, it felt different to my experience of Marissa, she really had been temporarily stretched by another, bigger cock. 

It felt incredible to slide inside her wet, used pussy. My wife, liberated. 

She turned her shoulders to him, pumping him to start with as she watched me reclaiming her sex, a little amused or astounded at how driven I was to take her. Then she was sucking on Daryl again, his condom removed, pursuing her fantasy though vice versa.

He was standing there by the bedside looking down at her, like some kind of statue or sex toy she was just using. He seemed happy enough to be used. She periodically looked at me, giggling, laughing at how ridiculous this situation was, how outside the norms of polite society. 

Well, who cared about polite society? Polite society knew that married couples had sex — it was something to be quietly encouraged, though not brought up at the dinner table. We were just getting a little assistance.

As I watched, she pulled him out of her mouth, and pumping mercilessly, she directed him over her chest. I nearly exploded myself as I saw him pumping string after string of his thick white come all over her heaving chest, so that it dribbled down the sides of her breasts, coated her stiff nipples, marked my wife as used property.

A spent force, though I suspect he’d recover in no time, he kissed the top of her head and retired, leaving me to lie next to my wife, celebrating the key advantage I had over any man who had her: I got to spend the rest of my life with her.

She kissed me deeply, passionately, and I didn’t even think about where those lips had been until I breathed, toying her with my tongue as she was doing with hers, tasting the hint of saltiness that was not Marissa.

Even the wet stickiness between us as she pressed her chest to mine did not put me off from the final rise — in fact, if anything, its irrefutable evidence of her consensual transgression drove me on, lending me the kind of strength and power I didn’t ordinary possess, sufficient to take her with me as I topped my own peak, our bodies trembling and shuddering together to profess our undying bond.

“Come inside me,” she insisted, over and over, as though I’d do it any other way. “I need you to come inside me…”

It felt good to finish inside her — for both of us, I guess, judging from the way she responded. Cementing our bond.

Afterwards, we lay awake there, in a kind of shell shock. 

“I liked him, your intern,” I said at last.

“He’s not my intern any more.”

“Your lover.”

“He was really something, huh? He was so big, at first I was a little scared.”

“Scared?”

“Whether I could really handle him. Get him inside me.”

“You seemed to do okay.” 

She had this brightness in her eyes that I swear had never been there before her first experience of infidelity. 

“I think there was something about him being my intern.”

“What, because you’re not supposed to sleep with the help?”

“I don’t know… I just wanted to take control of him, use him. That perfect body, that cocky smile. I just wanted to rub my kitty all over him. Was that bad?”

“God, no. And you did that, didn’t you? Never seen anything so hot.”

“I can see him again, then?”

A ripple of jealousy and excitement flickered through me at that. I even felt myself thickening up once again as the blood started pumping back into my loins.

“Of course.”

“I want to feel him come inside me, too.”

“When you’re ready.”

She saw the tent my reborn hardness was creating in the sheet, and offered me a sly grin at the proof of my approval for her ideas. She peeled the white cotton down over our bodies, unwrapping me but also herself. The sight of her nipples, all puckered up and ready for the next round, and then the glimpse of that sexy little patch of soft brown over her mound, took me up to full tilt.

She didn’t need any prompting to climb up onto me, sliding me inside her hot flesh once again, without even thinking of any smart remarks about what miraculous stamina I’d been enjoying that night. 

What a hot, sexy woman. Mine for life, though I’d happily share her. 

“So, you got your fantasy, huh? Two guys. Was it everything you’d hoped it would be?”

“Uh-huh. Better.”

“I’d like to see it some day.”

“See it?”

“I’d like to watch you take two other guys.”

“Hmm. Maybe Daryl has a friend.”

A Wife’s Opportunity

We were both open to the idea. I guess we were always pretty sexual as a couple, and ever since I’d met her, Bridget liked the effect that talking dirty had on men she slept with, so we’d discussed our fantasies early on. Only, for the most part, fantasies were all they were. I mean, normal people don’t act on those kinds of things, do they?

We both had various fantasies, but the big one for me was the thought of my beautiful wife going wild and misbehaving with another man.

I’d felt guilty and more than a little confused about that particular little kink, and while we both talked to each other about fooling around with group sex and things like that, in the early years of our marriage I’d always hinted to Bridget that my secret desires edged more toward the thought of sleeping with two women at once.

It was a minor shock to her, when eventually I’d gotten enough courage and a hint of alcohol to reveal that actually, I tended to think more of her engaged in a threesome with two guys than anything. She was the kind of woman who was amused by being shocked in that way, though, so from the start she at least entertained the idea.

After that, she’d tease me while we were out, suggesting that maybe she’d go off with this guy or that guy on the other side of the room. And later, as we made love, she’d find the physical proof of just how that idea excited me.

But fantasies are one thing, reality is quite another. I mean, Bridget always had a fantasy of having sex in a shop window on Fifth Avenue at night, so people could watch. Didn’t mean she wanted to actually go and do it.

More and more, I think Bridget did get into the fantasy. It wasn’t a question of whether she’d be okay sleeping with other guys, but whether I was really certain that turned me on, and why, and whether the reality might actually hurt me more than thrill me. As the years passed, though, and the fantasy still got me going whenever we brought it up, her occasional reading around on the subject eased her concerns.

I had actually made it clear that if she ever wanted to have a little fun on the side, I’d be open to the idea, if only she shared the details with me.

But I don’t think either of us really thought that it would ever really happen. We were happy enough with the fantasy, I think. The reality just seemed to complicated, too bewildering, too ripe for disappointment.

Bridget didn’t like the idea of finding a stranger online to fulfill the fantasy — she felt it would be little more than a random selection, that it might be overly risky,  fraught with anxiety. She also didn’t like the idea of hanging out at a bar on her own trying to get lucky. I don’t think I was entirely comfortable with the possibility that her safety might be at risk. But then the thought of trying something with a friend or colleague terrified her — there was no way she was going to risk a rumor spreading that we were in an open relationship.

Anyway, we left it as a exciting little possibility if ever the chance arose, and were both happy enough with that. If she ever had the opportunity or the urge, or preferably both, she could. And if that happened, I would be beyond happy.

It wasn’t until seven years into our marriage that the opportunity presented itself.

*

It was a long drive down from Bridget’s parents’ house after Christmas, and the weather was foul. By the time we got past New York, the snow was so thick the traffic was crawling along at walking pace.