Wives with Benefits: Volume One (9 page)

“You want to help a girl?” I ask him, and he eagerly takes me up on my offer to help hook my black stocking tops up to the suspenders hanging from my belt.

My burning pussy just inches away from his face as he focuses on the task at hand.

If only I’d known five, ten years ago the affect that stockings and suspenders have on men. Such an easy way to snare them — I could have saved so much anxiety when I was dating by wearing them, knowing that any little flaw I might perceive in my appearance would be overlooked entirely in the presence of such extravagant underwear. All those hours stuck in front of the mirror worried they would think my nose too big, or my mouth too wide, or my hair too red, or my boobs too small — all could have been avoided with this armor carrying me into battle.

The things one learns with experience.

I stroke Wade’s short hair a little as he finishes up, then walk back over to the other side of the bed to retrieve my old bra and panties, stashing it in my bag more as an excuse to walk away from Wade, show him the goods, bending over as I access my Versace limited edition, offering him a nice glimpse of my rear.

When I rise to my feet, and turn back to Wade, he’s up and reaching for the bedside table nearest to him. Pulling out a little box, opening it.

I kneel on the bed, trying to see what he’s got, surprised as he pulls out some kind of jewelry, holding it up for me.  A little elegant silver necklace. Stylish, understated. 

“I got something for you,” he said. “Something to remember me by.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I’m not lying. It’s something I’d pick out for myself, an elegant sterling silver spiral drop around a simple but perfect pearl.

I turn, lifting my hair to allow him to put it on me. I can’t help but think what it will do to my husband every time he sees me in this, knowing that another man gave it to me just before fucking me. He’ll probably want me to wear it every time we make love from now on.

“I love it,” I purr. 

“I wanted you to know this means a lot to me.”

I like that. The suggestion this isn’t just a cheap trick for him. 

As he returns to his seat in the arm chair, I stay on the bed to give him a little fashion show, flicking my hair and flaunting my assets, exposing my body in this sexy lingerie and making it clear how much I adore my new jewelry. As he sits there, his legs apart in that classic male stance, I can see how well he’s responding to my display. It makes me feel even more certain I’m going to enjoy what else he has for me, and that stokes my flames even further.

I’m going to be very wet for him when the time comes. 

Slowly, I crawl over the bed, moving like a panther, pushing up my butt, making the most of my curves as I approach him, swing down onto the floor and arrive between his thighs on my hands and knees. 

For a moment or two, I drape myself over him, rubbing my breasts over him, stroking him with my face. Feeling the big hard mass inside his pants, pressing my cheek to it, confirming its impressive size. 

He places a hand gently on my shoulder as I fumble with his belt, biting my lip to indicate my insatiable need for his cock. 

I’m not faking when I gasp on peeling back his pants, slipping down his underwear to reveal the swollen beast residing there, although on seeing him pleased at my response, I quietly think to myself that this would be a good thing to do for future clients, whatever their size.

Even after a few times, it’s still shocking to me to be presented with a real cock that’s not my husband’s. It gives me a real buzz, not just because it’s a big hard cock that now gets even harder still as I lick it, as I stretch my lips around it, as I draw it into my hot mouth. 

He groans as I sink down on him, holding back my hair as I take him deep, then withdraw, licking him, tasting him, rubbing that huge thing over the soft skin of my face as though marking myself as his territory. 

He has a clean, delicate smell, manly, a hint of musk but not too much, light on the cologne.  The way he feels in my mouth thrills me, makes me feel so wicked,  every touch spurring a long, low moan from him, every lick a sigh, every suck a gasp.

I love how he throbs in my mouth. 

I love it when his hands touch down on my head, feeling my silky hair as I bob up and down on him.

I love worshipping at the altar of strange cock. 

He urges me back when I’ve got him to the edge of coming, and I feel a little tremble of desire course through my body at the suggestion that maybe it’s my turn, in some form. 

“I need you,” he says, breathless.

I give his cock one last lick, then rise to my feet, and he stands with me, his hardness brushing my stomach. He kisses my mouth, perhaps tasting himself on my lips.

Do real professionals allow their clients to kiss them on the mouth? I guess some probably don’t. I’m not merely a professional, though. I’m a wife, and it’s something that gets my hubby going to know I’ve experienced that tender intimacy of a real kiss with other men.

Kissing is so much more affectionate than fucking, after all. The suggestion, perhaps, that what I’m doing could turn out to be more than a quick fuck. Triggering my beloved’s jealousy like you wouldn’t believe.

Wade, as it happens, is not kissing me for long before he turns me in his arms, grabs my breasts, pushing his erection against my behind. 

He slips my bra down, freeing up my breasts as he fondles me, and I lean back against his shoulder to continue our kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth, moaning as he massages my chest, crushes my stiff nipples, my hand finding its way to his hardness, holding him, squeezing him, pumping him.

Then he turns me again, making me feel like his dance partner, and he pushes me forcefully back onto the bed, making me squeal.

“Wade!” I giggle.

“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls as he pounces on me, his hands moving to my breasts again, but this time making way for him to take my hard little buds in his mouth. 

“Oh God…” I sigh as I feel the heat of his mouth on my sensitive nipples, his lips closing around them, his tongue swirling around them, his sucking causing little electric shocks that surge down through my body directly to my tingling pussy.

He kisses me again on the mouth, then he’s kissing his way down my stomach, to the edge of my panties where he pauses a while, as though teasing himself with his proximity to my sex. 

Then he pushes my thighs open and up, and I lift my knees to allow him access. He presses his face to my panties, breathing in long and deep, inhaling the scent of my soaking pussy.

He opens his mouth, presses it against the tiny triangle of purple satin, rubs his face over the material, and I guess he can detect my wetness.

He looks up at me, as though asking permission.

“You want to?” I ask him, since it’s him that’s made the online payment for my time. 

“Yes,” he whispers. 

“Then it’s yours.”

He pulls aside my little panties, and for a moment just feasts his eyes on my sex. I feel a glimmer of that old paranoia that I used to have when a man would reveal my most personal parts. But I rein it in, getting back into that bold frame of mine that’s grown along with my portfolio of sexual partners, knowing that I look as good as any man could want. Particularly after my husband shaved my pussy just before I came out.

“Mmm…” Wade licks his lips, then gently pulls mine apart, ducking down to drag his wonderfully warm, velvet tongue up my slippery groove from base to apex. 

“Oh God…” I can’t help but moan as I feel his heat on the center of my bliss, his mouth pressing to me, his kiss soft but luxurious over my buzzing clit.

He looks up at my face as he laps at my juices, seeking out my response. I only have to exaggerate my reaction a little, what he’s doing is intense. He holds me firmly, his hands clasping my behind, pulling me to him as he slides his tongue as far inside me as he can reach, nudging my little sensitive button with his nose.

I feel his hot breath on my flesh, I feel the vibrations from his voice as he moans slightly, apparently enjoying himself.

It is a surprise to me that men will do this even while they are paying for your time. Oh sure, there are plenty who won’t, even if you paid for theirs, even if they adored you. But a surprising number want to go down on a girl, even if it’s not necessary, or if she says she doesn’t want it.

It’s a surprise for a girl who always thought this was only something for lesbians, who was always sure men would find her pussy ugly, her juices distasteful, her scent off-putting, until she came to start believing her husband wanted to do it for more than just because he felt obligated.

It’s a surprise for a girl who simply never asked her menfolk if they would, or if they wanted to. These days, I know my husband gets off on being asked to, or even being told to when I’m feeling frisky. And other men… well, let’s just say it’s more common than I thought that they want to as well.

I stroke Wade’s head as he feasts on my soaking folds, and his action on me becomes a little more vigorous. I sense how he likes my encouragement, and apply a little more pressure, pulling him against me, even guiding him a little as to where I want him, and the rhythm I like from his tongue.

After a while, he shows no signs of abating, and my reactions to him no longer need exaggerating. 

Wade breaks off for a brief moment, and whips off his shirt — and then my panties, and then there’s no stopping him. He’s a man possessed, the fingers of one hand nudging my clit while those of his other thrust inside me. I look down on him, see that he’s ripped, his torso the product of plenty of time in the gym, making me want to test his fitness with my sex.

The way he’s totally focused on me leaves me gasping for breath, whimpering as the sensations threaten to overwhelm me.

I’m quivering, shuddering, near orgasm when I feel him pull away. I feel a jolt of powerful disappointment, and I’m about to plead with him to continue — but then I feel the tip of his hard cock press against my entrance,  and suddenly that idea seems even better to me than riding his face to climax. 

I look down, a little startled by the prospect of unsafe sex with someone I don’t know yet, but somehow Wade has not only managed to lose his pants and underwear, but also slip a condom over his big hard shaft.     

He rubs it over my glistening flower, pressing against my swollen petals, stirring waves of energy that pulsate through my body. 

It’s one of those moments where I always think I could make a big decision not to cheat on my husband. It’s not really cheating when I have his approval, right? But it’s still an edge-of-the-cliff time, when I’m really breaking those vows of mine, really causing major jealousy for my husband even though he hasn’t had me confirm this yet.

I lie there and remember just how insanely fired up he was the first time, when I came back to him and said I’d done it, I’d fucked another man, I’d taken someone else’s hard cock in my married pussy.

I remember how wonderfully ferocious my husband was when he reclaimed me after that first time, and it makes me crave Wade’s penetration.

“Do it, Wade,” I say as he pats my clit with the tip of his cock to tease me. “Fuck me.”

Then he directs it to me again, his tip nudging into my soaking entrance. I’m holding my breath as I feel him lean into me, that beast stretching me open around it, more than any fingers could, gliding inside me to fill me as though I’d been designed to fit him.

Bigger than my husband, not that my husband is in any way disappointing in that respect. If you’re going to stray from your husband, it might as well be with someone who is different, though, I always think. Wade’s difference makes me struggle for oxygen as he thrusts into me, that wonderful hot powerhouse apparently pushing every button I have inside. 

I suspect that long-term, Wade’s size would be too much. But in small helpings, it’s irresistible. Hubby will enjoy me telling him this — it doesn’t make him feel inadequate to know there are guys bigger than him out there. Actually, from what he’s told me, it seems to make him feel good that he’s able to grant me the experience of being with guys bigger than him.

“Oh yes, oh yes, fuck yes…” I cry as he fucks me, standing on the floor with me lying before him on the bed, my butt on the edge of the mattress.

He pushes up my legs, squeezing my thighs together as he continues to pound me, and as I whimper at the astounding feelings washing through me, he forces me into the first powerful orgasm of our allotted two hours.

After that first time, we lie there and talk, and it’s nice, Wade is friendly, good for a conversation even though he’s apparently in IT. Well, hubby’s in IT. Perhaps that helps make me feel comfortable opening up to Wade. 

“Do you have a boyfriend, Rachel?” he asks, and for some reason I feel like throwing caution to the wind and revealing the truth.

“A husband, actually.”

“He know you’re doing this?”

“He does.”

“Kids?”

“We just had our first.”

“Wow. That’s something.”

I’m lying draped over him, casually playing with his flaccid cock, and find that my revelation suddenly has him thickening up again.