Written by David

Erotic
15 Sep 2004


It seems it was inevitable, that inspite of the fact that our sex life is incredible, maybe even because it's so good, that my wife Clare would want to fuck someone else just for the sake of sex itself.

We'd used fantasies over the years, with me whispering to her how cock crazy she was, how wet she must get at work when she saw male co-workers looking at her chest. She'd taken to wearing jackets that covered her somewhat because her breasts are big, with nipples to match, and they'd poke up through whatever she was wearing, revealing the excitement she felt when someone was 'looking her over'. When she cums a few times in bed, I could always intensify the next time and the time after that by slowly describing how she would feel as another man's hands touched her sexually for the first time. Her slowly pressing her hand against a hard cock hidden behind jeans, then undoing the belt, unsnapping them, opening the zipper, cumming just from the sight of a new hard cock waiting for her touch. I doubt the guy would get his pants off before he was pouring spurt after spurt of semen into her throat.

I'd always thought she'd go for some hung stud, someone younger, because she looks 30, even younger some days, yet it's clear from looking at her, looking into her eyes and her smile, you'd know she knows what she wants in bed and it's drawing her lips down over a cock (my hard-on) until I can't stand it (and I can stand it for a long time because watching her cum turns me on so much that I know what's coming over and over again, and am willing to wait).

It's always the same pattern, she explores me with her mouth, licking, kissing, sucking me in an sensual explosion of insistent tongue and lips, while I lie back with a glass of wine and try to keep control. Then she makes her self cum, luxuriantly, pulling on her nipples, fingering herself faster and faster, playing with the perfect tuft of cunt hair that traces the outline of her pussy lips, until she's moaning and twisting her hips in pleasure.

Then I reach through past her cunt with a hand cupping her ass, then back to press my palm over her entire pussy while stroking the perfect silkiness of her inner thighs, then work a couple of fingers into her gently while working her knob with my thumb faster and faster until she can't seperate my hand from the feel of pure penetration, pure fucking.

anyway, we got concert tickets and an invitation to stay with an old friend who's seperated from his wife, his third wife to be exact, and who makes no secret of how he needs to get laid regularly, though this time he was complaining that it had been 'awhile' between lovers. My wife, he, and I were all at school together, and it was no secret that he fancied her then, and still does. Clare is one of these women who gets sexier, classier, more fuckable as life ages her, though to look at her you could not think she's in her 40's, time as suspended her age at 30, while adding to the shape of her tits. As a teenager she'd had small boobs, the entire end covered in a nipple and aureoles so large that they curved back over half of her small (then) boobs. As she's aged they've increased in size until now she can barely wear a t-shirt without attracting appreciative stares to the point of embarrassment. She has remained thin, weighs the same as she did at 20, with lovely legs, beautiful come-fuck-me eyes, and an ass to die for, holding on to it is one beautiful way to cum.

Grant is our age (40's) and he hadn't seen Clare in 20 years, he was stunned, could barely talk at first, love revived by years of memory and lust. I should have seen it coming because I know clare had him in mind way back when. Here we were all sitting around in his house after the concert, drinking slowly, talking about old times, the lights dim, Clare's dress riding up, Grant suddenly sitting on the floor in front of her while she imperceptibly at first parted her knees ever so slightly, giving him a view of her thighs and further. Grant has this sense of humour and endless funny stories so that as he made her laugh he pat her leg, or rest a hand on her knee. I sat back and watched, spell bound at what was occuring. This was a fantasy we'd both shared, and here it was evolving in an unexpected way.

Suddenly Clare put her hand over his on her knee and leaned forward and kissed him, nuzzling the side of her face against his. He responded immediately and the kiss became more passionate. He started telling her how much he'd thought about her over the years.

part two...