I woke up horny, that agitated horniness built of deprivation. My wife, Chloe, was right beside me, in a light nightgown. The smell of her sleeping was so intoxicating that part of me was spanning the gap and lightly tapping on her thigh. Telegraphing the bawdiest message imaginable.
Finally she stirred, stretching her arms upward as I played with her titties through her nightie. "What're you doing?" she yawned.
"You know what I'm doing," I shot back, giving her nipples a little extra tweak. ng her nipples a little extra tweak. She squirmed and I stated, "I'm feeling up my wife's boobies, letting her know what I want."
"But we can't" she moaned, "not with Lori ... she'll hear us!"
"But you're always so horny in the morning. And after a couple days of not with Lori, I bet you're on fire." I moved a hand down to the silken skin of her inner thigh, just under the hem of the gown. My fingertips scattered around like sexy little spiders.
"But Lori," she moaned, letting me know she was mine. I knew for a fact that sound traveled between our bedroom and the guestroom. It was called the law of the ductwork.
"You're the loud one--just be quiet."
"I can't ... you know I can't," she whispered in a tone enough to wake the dead.
From the neck up, she was saying no. Waist down, she was just waiting for it. My bold fingers were exploring just exactly how wet she was. It was like her legs had minds of their own, spreading to accommodate me even as her mouth tried to make a case against it.
She was like a girl dog, wanting her belly rubbed. Showing you all she had to offer.
Then she just grabbed me by the waist and pulled me over and down on top of her. "You bastard! Okay, you win. But you better give it to me good, buster!"
"That's why I asked you to marry me," I said, staring into her eyes as my cock slid into her cunt, "because I want to give it to you good, all the time. Plus I just love your eloquence."
"Such a romantic," she absolutely crowed.
"SORRY!!!" she cackled. Which was when I quit caring. If not waking up Lori wasn't a priority, then how come? ... all questions flittered away like butterflies once I was under the spell of her cunt. Like every time, my cock was exactly where it wanted to be. Of course I'd pursued her until she consented to be my wife.
I'd planned a long quiet leisurely fuck, but Chloe's hips had other ideas. I was on top, and just trying to hold on. For some, it's the voyage. She was generally that way, but right then she was humping for the destination.
When she hit it, the dishes rattled in the kitchen cabinets, the wine glasses no doubt shattered. Despite my alleged self-control, I'm sure my low groans probably precipitated massive earthquakes in China.
We lay afterwards, withered and side-by-side, giggling about our noise. When we finally managed to peel ourselves out of bed, I was ready for a long hot shower. Instead, Chloe insisted on and orchestrated a quick spray-off of the loins with the hand unit.
Refreshed, we were off to the kitchen to conjure up breakfast. I put on public boxers and a white t-shirt. Chloe chose a silk gown that fastened with a sash and just barely covered her ass. I was already starting to think about following that around the kitchen, harassing my wife again while hoping her friend slept in. We'd get that breakfast made, one way or another.
We could fuck ourselves silly, and still I'd hunger for my wife. Even after the reprise. And still I'd hunger for my wife. That tenacity was Pavlovian, rewarded the time or two I had gotten a third erection without a bit of a rest. With Chloe womaning up and being a team player.
So of course I said okay the evening she started talking about Lori. I knew all about Lori. They'd been roomies in college, and remained the best of friends. Keeping in touch electronically, every several days at least.
Lori lived way out on the west coast, though I had met her a couple of times. They fit together like jigsaw pieces, even though they made such an odd couple. Chloe was taller and slim hipped, with a chisel of dark hair--just the way I liked them. Such a perfect distillation of what I liked that in the pause before she said yes, I was like a construction of heart attacks collapsing.
Lori was at least half a foot shorter than Chloe, blond and far curvier. She looked like a doll that should be wearing a cheerleader outfit. She had in fact gone that juvenile career route, which she continued into college on such a scholarship, until she got way more interested in Philosophy and Linguistics. She'd been working towards her doctorate, but had suddenly become distracted by stained glass. The art of making it. We had a small panel featuring a purple iris that was very pretty. I didn't know much more.
That was all Chloe's world. If she wanted to share, fine. As long as it wasn't too blah blah blah. I knew she was married to some dude, and their union was sometimes rocky. I never met the guy. The first time I met Lori, we'd flown to the coast for a vacation, and she hadn't met the idiot yet. The second time, she'd flown to our house for a few days during a marital rough spell.
My view was that Lori's husband must be an absolute asshole. If what you liked were those little blonde girls with the big pom-poms and well-curved skirts, why wasn't he bowing down to such perfection? Lori was, truth told, a hot little pistol.
I was glad that my wife had such a close confidante, even if long-distance. Everyone needs friends they can call their own. Give their complaints to, in confidence.
I probably got cast in a good light--because I was a good husband--when Lori's marriage began splintering. I did get to hear all about it, albeit second hand, using my tolerant ears. The dick had been caught dick in the intern's cunt, or something like that. I tried to match my wife's outrage as I remained an unsullied husband.
Mostly I was pissed off by the thought of interns. The exploding army of unpaid ones. I thought there was an Amendment to the Constitution that solved the unpaid labor thing.
Economics and class warfare went out the window when she started sucking on my dick. There I was, after work, sitting on the sofa and trying to watch the stupid fucking television. As she worked me, Chloe explained how Lori's divorce was final, and she'd be spending a few days or weeks in our guestroom.
I would've agreed to anything as I got set to explode into her mouth. Except, in the hindsight, the way having Lori under the same roof wound up making Chloe shy away from sex. I'd married a girl who totally let go and got loudly appreciative as she approached orgasm, which was awesome, except when she was worried someone else might hear.
Almost immediately in the kitchen we heard the moans and sighs. We were barely in the room. We weren't clattering pans, opening the fridge a dozen times. We'd yet to make it to the coffee machine. The door to the guestroom unfortunately opened into the hall just outside the kitchen. The sounds were nothing new to me, except for the specific voice and location.
"See? I told you!" my wife wagged her finger at naughty little me. Lori had obviously been inspired by our sounds, but it was almost embarrassing to hear how she couldn't quite hit the mark.
"Shame on you," Chloe continued.
"What?" I wondered aloud.
"Just listen to the poor thing--it's all your fault. She heard you taking me, I told you she would."
"That's your fault, for making all those loud noises."
"That's your fault, for making me make all those loud noises."
As we were having this conversation, Chloe was rubbing the front of my shorts, and I was responding. Her words and the sound of Lori's frustration were eminently exciting.
"What sort of host are you, anyway? I thought you were the man of the house. Yet there's a girl in your castle in obvious sexual distress."
By that point, I was in full recognition of my position. My wife had me out of my boxers, sinking to her knees to suck me even harder. Poor Lori could never quite get over the hump. Poor me, Chloe's mouth would never let me quite cross to the promised land.
She backed away and stood up, leaving me gasping like a landed fish. A very wicked smile played across her face. "As your wife, guess I have to be your pimp as well."
I didn't know what she was babbling about, until she grabbed me by my erection and tugged me behind her as she guided us into the hall to the guestroom door. Which she opened and entered us without knocking.
We walked in on Lori, covers cast aside, a girl in need going nearly the distance. "God," she exclaimed, slamming her thighs shut and trying to cover her breasts, while keeping a hand working in the tight quarters down below. "I apologize," she squirmed, not getting any closer.
"You heard us," Chloe nodded at me.
"It got me so hot, but even so, I still can't quite get there. You know what I mean."
"I know exactly what you mean," she cooed back. "I suffered from that until I discovered a very special cure. Want me to share it with you?" She pulled me around her hip by my cock, leaving me there on display.
Lori's thighs spread on their own volition at the sight. The girls were bantering about how Chloe was happy to lend Lori her Peter. I was Pete, because I'd gotten tired of the peter jokes well back in middle school. It was obviously pretty much unscripted, but I got tired of the girlie control.
.... There is more of this story ...