26-12-2018, 10:38 PM
Desiring Another Man's Wife Ch. 08
I felt disheartened as I sat in the car, waiting for Victor to leave. I felt paralyzed, in shock, my eyes focused on the door of the apartment building, waiting for it to open and Victor to walk out.
The images ran through my head, of Jen straddling Victor and her long blonde hair swaying across her shoulders as she moved up and down on his cock. I couldn't get over how sexy Jen looked as she rode him, nude except for a garter belt, black stockings, and ankle strap high heels. Her choice of lingerie pained me as much as seeing them fuck. For years I had been after my wife to wear thigh highs and stiletto heels, but she rarely did. But she wore them for Victor.
Finally the door opened, and Victor left. I waited a few minutes more, and then went up to our apartment.
"Hi," I said tentatively, seeing Jen in bed. She looked freshly showered, and it looked like she had changed the sheets. I took off my clothes and moved to join her under the covers, but she stopped me.
"Could you take a shower first?" she gently asked, and I felt like an idiot. I had forgotten all about being with Monique that night. The sight of Jen with Victor had driven thoughts of Monique from my mind.
"Sure, sure," I said quickly, and I quickly hurried to the shower. I emerged a few minutes later, still toweling my hair. Jen smiled and pulled back the covers, inviting me to join her.
"Did you have fun?" I asked.
"Yeah, it was okay."
"Just okay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. For some reason, I had an urgent need to find out how Jen felt about Victor. Maybe I hoped she had faked those moans and orgasms, that she didn't enjoy fucking him as much as it seemed. Or maybe the masochistic part of me wanted to hear my wife admit how much she adored getting pounded by the well-hung black man. "Monique told me Victor was really good in bed."
Jen hesitated, and looked away from me. "He is good, I guess," she said after a few moments.
"Monique said Victor's hung like a horse." I laughed, trying to sound like I didn't care. "So is it true, bigger is better?"
"I don't know. It's different." Jen frowned, and her tone became defensive, almost angry. "Why do you care?"
"Why do I care? Honey, you're my wife. We might be experimenting with swinging, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you, and how you're getting along with Victor. I mean, I know his penis is bigger than mine. I'm just wondering if that makes a difference, if it feels better."
Jen's anger melted away. "Honey, he's not better than you," she said in a soft voice. She rubbed my arm affectionately. "It's just different, that's all."
Jen paused. "Is it better with Monique?" she asked hesitantly, concern in her face. "She's so beautiful."
I took my wife into my arms. "Honey, I'll admit, it's exciting to be with someone new. It's probably the same way for you, to be with Victor. But there's no one prettier than you."
Jen beamed. "You liar," she said playfully, punching me. "Monique's a model. She was in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue -- twice! -- and Playboy wanted her to be Miss January or July or something, but by then she had met Victor, and he won't let her."
"What? I knew about the SI swimsuit issue, but not Playboy."
Jen punched me again, harder this time. "You jerk!"
I laughed and took her again into my arms. "Honey, I don't care what Monique was in, or almost in. You're way prettier than her, and sexier too." Feeling a little surprised, I realized I meant it. Yes, Monique was beautiful and alluring. But Jen had everything that Monique had, and more. Jen's face was prettier than Monique's, although this was probably debatable and depended on whether you liked blondes better than brunettes. Her body was just as firm, and her ass and legs were way better than Monique's. Monique had bigger breasts, but Jen's were full and perfectly shaped, and there were lots of guys (including me) who preferred girls with tiny tits.
Jen had better raw material than Monique. If Jen tried, she could blow Monique away in looks and sexiness. I wondered if Victor knew that. Maybe he saw beyond Jen's scant use of makeup and near-shapeless clothing, and recognized her potential to be something really special.
The thought upset me. It took Jen fucking another man for me to fully appreciate her beauty and sexiness. I got on top of Jen, intent on correcting my mistake.
"Honey, you're so pretty, much sexier than Monique," I said as I pushed my hard cock into her pussy. She welcomed me, opening her legs and wrapping her arms around me. But despite my renewed passion for my wife, I started softening. Jen's pussy wasn't as tight as usual, which wasn't a surprise since she had just fucked Victor who knows how many times. There wasn't enough friction to keep me hard, and Jen also didn't seem to be enjoying it much.
Concern spread through me, as I wondered if I'd ever get my wife's tight pussy back. I thought again at how Victor's enormous cock stretched Jen's pussy so. Would her pussy ever return to normal, the way it used to be, where it fit my penis like a glove?
I was pleasantly surprised to realize I was hard again. I could still barely feel the walls of Jen's pussy. What happened to get me excited? Suddenly, I realized the more I thought about Victor fucking Jen, the harder I got.
A mixture of jealousy and arousal flooded over me. I didn't want to think about Jen getting banged by Victor with his massive black cock. But the more I thought about it, the more aroused I became. I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to playback in my head. I remembered how Jen had wrapped her stocking-clad legs around Victor, and how she dug her stiletto heels into the back of his thighs to urge him deeper inside her. Within moments I came, my sperm joining Victor's that he had deposited in Jen earlier that evening.
*************************
I'm not one of those guys who fantasize about his wife getting fucked by other men. Wife watching and cuckold fantasies had never turned me on before. But over the next week I couldn't get the images of Jen and Victor out of my mind. I had a constant hard-on, and I even masturbated a few times in the bath room at work.
It wasn't just the images, it was also what they had said.
"You like my big fat cock? Do you? Do you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I like it, it feels so good."
"Do I fuck you better than your husband? Am I better?"
"Ohhhh godddd. Better ... better ... and so much bigger!"
The memories hurt, and left me jealous and insecure. But somehow, these feelings intensified my arousal.
They frightened me, too. I had ventured into this wife swapping lifestyle so I could bed Monique. Now, though, my interest was shifting from Monique to Victor and Jen. The thought of them together got me hard. But did I want to risk letting Victor have Jen again? What if she got addicted to his cock? Was I somehow a closet gay, getting off on seeing huge black cocks fucking petite blonde pussy? All these thoughts were disturbing and upset me. Yet, whenever I thought about it -- thought about Victor fucking my wife -- I got hard and masturbated to a ferocious orgasm.
"Victor called me today," I said a few days later. I had considered not saying anything, but knew Jen would eventually find out. "He wanted to know if we planned to be at the club this weekend."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd get back to him. Do you want to go?"
Jen hesitated. It seemed like she was picking her words carefully. "I guess we have to," she finally said. "Don't you need to network with these people for your job?"
"Yeah, but I've been thinking ... maybe the club isn't the best thing for us. This thing we've been doing with Victor and Monique. Maybe we should stop. What do you think?"
"Well, I don't know," Jen replied noncommittally. "Monique invited me to lunch tomorrow. I'm sorry, she asked me today, and I forgot to tell you. Anyway, it might be a little awkward if we don't go to the club after she takes me to lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah, I guess." I searched Jen's face. Her tone was still neutral, but I sensed a little -- apprehension? Was she afraid I wouldn't agree to go to the club? Was she concerned I'd object to her sleeping with Victor again?
"Well, then, I guess we better go. I'll call Victor and let him know we'll be there."
"Okay, if you think that's best," Jen said, shrugging nonchalantly, acting like she didn't care either way. Yet, did her face show a little relief, maybe even a little excitement?
*************************
I felt disheartened as I sat in the car, waiting for Victor to leave. I felt paralyzed, in shock, my eyes focused on the door of the apartment building, waiting for it to open and Victor to walk out.
The images ran through my head, of Jen straddling Victor and her long blonde hair swaying across her shoulders as she moved up and down on his cock. I couldn't get over how sexy Jen looked as she rode him, nude except for a garter belt, black stockings, and ankle strap high heels. Her choice of lingerie pained me as much as seeing them fuck. For years I had been after my wife to wear thigh highs and stiletto heels, but she rarely did. But she wore them for Victor.
Finally the door opened, and Victor left. I waited a few minutes more, and then went up to our apartment.
"Hi," I said tentatively, seeing Jen in bed. She looked freshly showered, and it looked like she had changed the sheets. I took off my clothes and moved to join her under the covers, but she stopped me.
"Could you take a shower first?" she gently asked, and I felt like an idiot. I had forgotten all about being with Monique that night. The sight of Jen with Victor had driven thoughts of Monique from my mind.
"Sure, sure," I said quickly, and I quickly hurried to the shower. I emerged a few minutes later, still toweling my hair. Jen smiled and pulled back the covers, inviting me to join her.
"Did you have fun?" I asked.
"Yeah, it was okay."
"Just okay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. For some reason, I had an urgent need to find out how Jen felt about Victor. Maybe I hoped she had faked those moans and orgasms, that she didn't enjoy fucking him as much as it seemed. Or maybe the masochistic part of me wanted to hear my wife admit how much she adored getting pounded by the well-hung black man. "Monique told me Victor was really good in bed."
Jen hesitated, and looked away from me. "He is good, I guess," she said after a few moments.
"Monique said Victor's hung like a horse." I laughed, trying to sound like I didn't care. "So is it true, bigger is better?"
"I don't know. It's different." Jen frowned, and her tone became defensive, almost angry. "Why do you care?"
"Why do I care? Honey, you're my wife. We might be experimenting with swinging, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you, and how you're getting along with Victor. I mean, I know his penis is bigger than mine. I'm just wondering if that makes a difference, if it feels better."
Jen's anger melted away. "Honey, he's not better than you," she said in a soft voice. She rubbed my arm affectionately. "It's just different, that's all."
Jen paused. "Is it better with Monique?" she asked hesitantly, concern in her face. "She's so beautiful."
I took my wife into my arms. "Honey, I'll admit, it's exciting to be with someone new. It's probably the same way for you, to be with Victor. But there's no one prettier than you."
Jen beamed. "You liar," she said playfully, punching me. "Monique's a model. She was in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue -- twice! -- and Playboy wanted her to be Miss January or July or something, but by then she had met Victor, and he won't let her."
"What? I knew about the SI swimsuit issue, but not Playboy."
Jen punched me again, harder this time. "You jerk!"
I laughed and took her again into my arms. "Honey, I don't care what Monique was in, or almost in. You're way prettier than her, and sexier too." Feeling a little surprised, I realized I meant it. Yes, Monique was beautiful and alluring. But Jen had everything that Monique had, and more. Jen's face was prettier than Monique's, although this was probably debatable and depended on whether you liked blondes better than brunettes. Her body was just as firm, and her ass and legs were way better than Monique's. Monique had bigger breasts, but Jen's were full and perfectly shaped, and there were lots of guys (including me) who preferred girls with tiny tits.
Jen had better raw material than Monique. If Jen tried, she could blow Monique away in looks and sexiness. I wondered if Victor knew that. Maybe he saw beyond Jen's scant use of makeup and near-shapeless clothing, and recognized her potential to be something really special.
The thought upset me. It took Jen fucking another man for me to fully appreciate her beauty and sexiness. I got on top of Jen, intent on correcting my mistake.
"Honey, you're so pretty, much sexier than Monique," I said as I pushed my hard cock into her pussy. She welcomed me, opening her legs and wrapping her arms around me. But despite my renewed passion for my wife, I started softening. Jen's pussy wasn't as tight as usual, which wasn't a surprise since she had just fucked Victor who knows how many times. There wasn't enough friction to keep me hard, and Jen also didn't seem to be enjoying it much.
Concern spread through me, as I wondered if I'd ever get my wife's tight pussy back. I thought again at how Victor's enormous cock stretched Jen's pussy so. Would her pussy ever return to normal, the way it used to be, where it fit my penis like a glove?
I was pleasantly surprised to realize I was hard again. I could still barely feel the walls of Jen's pussy. What happened to get me excited? Suddenly, I realized the more I thought about Victor fucking Jen, the harder I got.
A mixture of jealousy and arousal flooded over me. I didn't want to think about Jen getting banged by Victor with his massive black cock. But the more I thought about it, the more aroused I became. I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to playback in my head. I remembered how Jen had wrapped her stocking-clad legs around Victor, and how she dug her stiletto heels into the back of his thighs to urge him deeper inside her. Within moments I came, my sperm joining Victor's that he had deposited in Jen earlier that evening.
*************************
I'm not one of those guys who fantasize about his wife getting fucked by other men. Wife watching and cuckold fantasies had never turned me on before. But over the next week I couldn't get the images of Jen and Victor out of my mind. I had a constant hard-on, and I even masturbated a few times in the bath room at work.
It wasn't just the images, it was also what they had said.
"You like my big fat cock? Do you? Do you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I like it, it feels so good."
"Do I fuck you better than your husband? Am I better?"
"Ohhhh godddd. Better ... better ... and so much bigger!"
The memories hurt, and left me jealous and insecure. But somehow, these feelings intensified my arousal.
They frightened me, too. I had ventured into this wife swapping lifestyle so I could bed Monique. Now, though, my interest was shifting from Monique to Victor and Jen. The thought of them together got me hard. But did I want to risk letting Victor have Jen again? What if she got addicted to his cock? Was I somehow a closet gay, getting off on seeing huge black cocks fucking petite blonde pussy? All these thoughts were disturbing and upset me. Yet, whenever I thought about it -- thought about Victor fucking my wife -- I got hard and masturbated to a ferocious orgasm.
"Victor called me today," I said a few days later. I had considered not saying anything, but knew Jen would eventually find out. "He wanted to know if we planned to be at the club this weekend."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd get back to him. Do you want to go?"
Jen hesitated. It seemed like she was picking her words carefully. "I guess we have to," she finally said. "Don't you need to network with these people for your job?"
"Yeah, but I've been thinking ... maybe the club isn't the best thing for us. This thing we've been doing with Victor and Monique. Maybe we should stop. What do you think?"
"Well, I don't know," Jen replied noncommittally. "Monique invited me to lunch tomorrow. I'm sorry, she asked me today, and I forgot to tell you. Anyway, it might be a little awkward if we don't go to the club after she takes me to lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah, I guess." I searched Jen's face. Her tone was still neutral, but I sensed a little -- apprehension? Was she afraid I wouldn't agree to go to the club? Was she concerned I'd object to her sleeping with Victor again?
"Well, then, I guess we better go. I'll call Victor and let him know we'll be there."
"Okay, if you think that's best," Jen said, shrugging nonchalantly, acting like she didn't care either way. Yet, did her face show a little relief, maybe even a little excitement?
*************************
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