Ten Year College Reunion - Cover

Ten Year College Reunion

Copyright© 2017 by robertl

Chapter 50

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 50 - Attending my wife's ten year college reunion

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Sharing   Wife Watching   Interracial   Black Male   White Female   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism  

December 17, 2028, Sunday afternoon

I loaded my suitcase and garment bag in the Jeep, then went back inside. Ginger and I stood in her living room, looking at each other and holding both hands. When Ginger glanced over at her living room window, this fifty-three-year-old woman began a girlish giggle and I followed suit. “I can’t believe we did that!” she said, hardly able to control her giggles.

“Me neither,” I agreed. But very shortly after, it turned serious and Ginger wrapped her arms around me, crying. My tears started as well. I didn’t want to leave. Ginger gripped my face with both her hands and pulled me to her, kissing me frantically with her wet lips and wet cheeks. We must have kissed several minutes, then she pushed me away and said I had to go.

As I began to close the door behind me, I heard a sobbing Ginger whispering, “I love you,” on the other side of the door.

I drove home. The tears on my cheeks eventually drying. I was on my way home, to Adriana, Kevin, Katie. I had a beautiful family to go home to that I loved. The kids will be with Joanie, anxiously waiting for Mommy and Daddy to get home, especially Daddy since I’ve been gone over a week.

Ginger had ... nobody. Not tonight, anyway. I hoped she was being honest about the client who wanted to date her and hadn’t just made him up. I’d fallen in love with her and she with me. I hoped that love didn’t bring more heartache for her, she’s had enough with her husband passing.

I thought back to some of the last week; the topless trip to Grand Coulee, meeting Tammy along the way and it brought a laugh, Tammy suddenly stripping her top off, too. Then the unbelievable coincidence of her applying for the job in our store the next day.

Little bits of the rest of the week played through my mind, our sex together; Ginger laughing about her couch, ‘That’s not exactly how I envisioned using this couch when I bought it’. That made me smile and laugh a little. Maybe she’ll show her new guy ‘the right way’ to use that couch, too

Thinking about Saturday night brought a huge smile to my face; in her front window, with the audience. That was a new experience for both of us. Bet Addie will enjoy hearing about that and hopefully, even wanting to try it sometime. I’d enjoy that. Pretty tame, though, after that night she had, restrained in that glass cage with a vibrator inside her, then Samuel.

Okay, that brought my mind over to Addie, my wife, Adriana. She’ll be on her way home, too, either now or shortly. Maybe she’s with Nick one last time right now, naked, being fucked. Or maybe modeling for another sculpture. I know there’s something wrong with my brain, how it works. It’s not supposed to be this way, but the thought of either was turning me on, sending blood flow down below.

I pulled off the freeway in Umatilla to send Addie a text, ‘Hi, on my way home, call when you can,’ then back on the freeway.

There was just so much to think about; the kids, Addie, Ginger, Addie and Nick, Christmas, our parents. Hell, I’d almost forgotten – they had dinner together last night. Wonder how that turned out? I could probably guess.

The phone chimed a few minutes later with a text message that popped up on the Jeep’s display, I pressed the ‘listen’ button, hearing the computerized voice, ‘Hi, leaving in about half-hour. I’ll call.”

That was it, the end of the message. Made me wonder what she was doing that she couldn’t call then. Maybe nothing, just with Nick and didn’t want him to hear. More likely, though, something a lot more than that.

I’d just gone through Pendleton, climbing Cabbage Hill, the long grade on I-84 up into the Blue Mountains, about an hour later, when my phone rang. “Hi,” Addie’s cheerful voice said.

“I’m just starting up Cabbage Hill, you on your way?”

She hesitated, “Uhuh, just left.”

So, I was right, that hesitation told me everything, one last fuck. She would be about an hour-and-a-half behind. I won’t say that I wasn’t anxious, “I’ll pick up the kids ... at Joanie’s?”

“Uhuh, they’re anxious to see their daddy.”

I smiled to myself, thinking about how thrilled they’d be when I got there and how lucky I was.

“Love you,” I heard over our Bluetooth speaker

“You too,” I responded, then thought about Ginger once again, thinking that it could have been me losing my wife like she’d lost her husband, truly hoping she finds love again.

It wasn’t quite eight when I rolled into Joanie’s driveway. Thankfully, the roads were clear. More often than not, that isn’t the case through the Blue Mountains in mid-December. She opened the door when I rang the doorbell and our two little people were there, screeching, “Daddy, Daddy!” rushing into my arms.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing that can compare with coming home to two small children who love you! I can’t even begin to imagine the joy of military families when mom or dad comes home after a long deployment.

Addie was home two hours later. I’d let the kids stay up waiting for their mom. Their excitement at Mom getting home was just as much as mine.

We let her luggage stay in the car overnight to give us a little time together with the kids before they went to bed. It was fun reading them their stories and hard to believe that Katie was now reading the story to us.

We snuggled into bed together, both of us naked. Neither of us talked about our lovers that night. We kissed, held each other, caressed bodies, wanted to make love. But I couldn’t purge Ginger out of my brain, her sleeping alone, and that thought that it could have been any of us; that it could have been me sleeping alone tonight. Or Addie.

Addie knew that something was wrong, bothering me, “Hon?” she asked.

I felt ashamed, like I’d let her down, guess she deserved an answer, “I’m sorry, sweet, was just thinking ... about Ginger...” and realizing from the expression on her face what she must have been thinking, “No, not that; her husband ... even Samuel and his wife so suddenly taken away ... that it could so easily have been us.”

Her expression changed and a tear fell from her eye as well. We spent the rest of the night snuggling and holding each other, appreciating what we have, until we went to sleep.

We went together to take the kids to school Monday morning, then came home to finish unpacking from the trip. I carried in my things out of the Jeep, then Addie’s from the Odyssey. One of the items she brought home was a wrapped picture. When I got it in the house, she unwrapped it, a 16x20 framed photo of her sculpture, obviously professionally taken.

Adriana was proud of how beautiful the sculpture was and so was I. I had a hard time taking my eyes away, almost unbelieving that the beautiful, sexy woman in the photo was my wife. He’d captured the most realistic, sultry, lusty look on her face, almost like it was actually her, rather than just a sculpture. I can’t even begin to do it justice with any kind of description. It was her, that morning, through the one-way mirror, that expression on her face when she was begging for Nick to be inside her.

The realization hit me, “What, my love,” I asked her, “are we going to do with it?” We sure as heck couldn’t put it up in the house where our kids would see it.

Addie scrunched up her face, realizing the same thing, “The office? At the store?”

I laughed, “Kayla takes some of her customers in there. You want them to see it?”

She frowned, both of us recognizing the problem. It was beautiful, sexy as hell, deserving to be seen, but there wasn’t anywhere we could put it. It was just too ... sultry, and so obviously Adriana.

She sighed, then suggested, “There’s a gallery downtown, Avignon Fine Arts, I was there once, they show nudes. I wonder if they’d like to have it as a loan?”

So we re-wrapped the picture, loaded it in the Odyssey and a few minutes later were carrying it into the Avignon Fine Arts gallery, downtown Boise. An older woman, probably early sixties or so met us and asked if she could help us.

The gallery is beautiful, paintings hung on the walls, sculptures on display cases throughout the floor, all beautifully displayed and lighted. And several nudes ... nothing quite like Addie’s, but some quite sultry.

When Addie unwrapped the picture, her jaw dropped open and she, her name tag said Brigitte, called a man over, Claude, said they owned the gallery. He looked at the portrait, said it was incredible, that they’d love to display it. She asked if we were interested in selling it, “I know it would bring at least a thousand dollars,” in her pretty, French accent.

Addie laughed, “No, thank you, though. We just want it to be seen, just a loan.”

They both gazed at the picture, then Claude to Addie, “And you’re the model, quite obviously. It’s so sensuous ... so passionate ... so...”

Addie’s face flushed, started to turn a bit red, “Thank you,” was all she said.

“The sculpture, you have it?” Claude asked.

“No, it’s still with the artist. There’s only one completed. There will be four more, but they haven’t been painted yet,” Addie explained.

“Ahh, but we would love to have one if possible,” Claude said, “you know what he will be asking for them? I presume they will be for sale?”

Addie nodded, “He told me in the vicinity of thirty-thousand dollars. I don’t think he’s set a firm price yet until they’re all completed.”

“Please wait, I’ll be right back,” and he went into a back room, returning a moment later with a display easel, putting the picture on it.

“Beautiful!” he exclaimed all over again. “You know how many photographs he will have?”

“No, no idea ... he just had this one made to give to me. I don’t know if he’ll be making more,” Addie told them.

“Ahh, if he does...” letting his thought float away, then his mind came back to the present, “you have his card?” and then, apparently thinking that he’d committed some faux pas, “forgive me, I assumed the artist is a man ... to sculpt a beautiful woman in such a way.”

Addie smiled at him, “His name is Nick...” beginning to dig in her purse for a business card.

I don’t know what she was going to say next, but I interrupted, “ ... her lover,” then smiled, getting a surprised reaction from Addie. She looked at me, with a sharp look on her face, opened her mouth to begin to say something, “I’d have liked to have been there for that modeling session. I’m guessing it was quite enjoyable,” I said, before she had the chance. Addie’s mouth had dropped open.

Both Claude and Brigitte gazed at the photo again, not acting shocked at all by my admission, like it was the most normal thing in the world for an artist and model. Made me wonder if it is normal. “I would imagine so,” Brigitte said, a knowing smile on her face, “may I show you something?” taking Addie’s hand and leading her into the back. I followed along, Claude behind me.

We went into their office in the back of the gallery, Brigitte pointed to the painting on the wall opposite the desk; a beautiful young woman, nude from the waist up, obviously a much younger Brigitte, “The artist, he was not my husband, perhaps very much like your Nick... ?”

We looked at the painting a moment longer, then Addie spoke, “It’s beautiful ... you were ... are beautiful.”

She smiled, “There were many modeling sessions for that painting ... each quite... ‘enjoyable’ as your husband says,” she went on, “My husband, Claude, was quite pleased with the results,” looking at her husband. “Weren’t you, my love?”

There was no embarrassment, only pride in his face as he responded, “Oui, certainement,” speaking in his native language for the first time.

“We will display your photo with pride,” Brigitte said. “It will be up before the day is over.”

“And we will contact the artist about possibly contracting for one of his sculptures as well,” Claude added.

After we left, on our way home, “I was surprised you told them about Nick being my lover,” Addie told me.

“They seemed very nice. Thought they’d enjoy knowing the ‘prominence’ of the sculpture,” I told her, with a smile on my face. “Seems I was correct.”

“Seems so, her painting is beautiful, too bad it isn’t displayed, guess it’s just a bit too ... personal,” she said.

“You know,” I told her, “Boise’s not so big that you won’t run into people who have seen that picture. Maybe even some of your customers who know you.”

She giggled, “Give them something to think about, hunh.”

We stopped at the store, and Addie suggested to Kayla that she might want to visit the Avignon Fine Arts Gallery, that there was a surprise there she’d enjoy.

After a short visit with Kayla, we drove to Mountain Home, to the store there. Addie and Nicki discussed the upcoming wedding, only twelve days away. I’m not going to bore you with any of that. Suffice it to say that it was almost three hours. What is there to talk about a wedding for three hours?

That night, after putting the kids to bed, it was time for Addie and me to go to bed. We were a bit emotionally drained last night, but ... tonight...

I at least hoped so, enough to take off my boxers when I climbed into bed in anticipation. I hadn’t had sex with my wife for the last two weeks. I hadn’t exactly been abstaining those nights, but still...

And thinking of her with Nick over the weekend just added that much more gasoline to the fire. Like I said earlier, I know that I have a brain defect.

Anyway, I was in bed, naked, waiting for my Adriana, my little man fully engorged, no errant thoughts to kill the mood. I just needed my wife. Badly!

What is it about women? Do they just enjoy tormenting their men? Why is it that all women leave their men waiting? It’s ingrained, sadistic, that’s what it is! Intentionally sadistic, I think.

Addie finally came out of the bathroom, and my waiting was worthwhile, wearing a short, black babydoll I hadn’t seen before; lacy over her breasts and triangle-shaped panties, the rest totally sheer - sexy as fuckin’ hell! Red lipstick, that jasmine perfume I remembered from a few weeks earlier. My heart rate spiked when I saw her.

I expected her to climb in bed with me. Well, at least I sure as hell hoped so! Instead, she took my hand and tugged, “Come with me,” she said.

Okayyy, I followed, my hand in hers, trailing behind, watching that sexy butt ... and the rest of her, as she led me into the kitchen. She must have known what I was doing, watching her, “You like?” she asked, without turning her head. “Bought it for Nick, for Friday night. He liked, too.”

I couldn’t help but respond to her little tease, “Ginger, too, bought a couple ... I bought her one, too. Sexy!” I hadn’t, but what the heck, seemed like a harmless little fib.

She pulled out a chair and directed me to sit. “When you texted me Sunday afternoon, Nick and I were together, in his kitchen; he was sitting. She sat down on my lap, straddling my legs, stretching the fabric of her thin panties, trapping my hard cock between our tummies. “I was on his lap, like this,” then she whispered, in her sultriest voice, “except I was naked ... so was he. I’d already teased him with a little strip-tease ... he liked it.”

She glanced down between us, where my cock was trapped between our bodies, “Difference was...” she ran her fingers down her tummy, tickling the tip of my cock for a moment. I moaned from the sensations running through my body. Ginger and I had had that incredible sex Saturday night in front of her picture window only two nights earlier, but that had seemed an eternity ago. But this was my wife ... and we hadn’t been together for two full weeks. Exactly, two weeks tonight.

Her finger tickled upward on her tummy to right below her belly-button, a couple inches above my cock-head, “ ... Nicky came to about here.”

So, it’s ‘Nicky’ now!

Then her finger worked higher on her tummy, a couple inches above her belly-button, “Jonah and Samuel, Mmmm!” She knew what this teasing did to me. I’d seen both Samuel and Jonah. She wasn’t exaggerating. It did a number on my libido, thinking about another guy’s cock that deep inside my wife’s cunt! Sick, I know. Even Nick, I’d seen for myself that morning she modeled for his sculpture.

“We started with a little kiss,” and her lips were on mine, her tongue probing, hands in my hair, pulling me to her, grinding her satin-covered baby-bump-tummy against my cock, pressing her tits to my chest.

“Think I’ve mentioned how good his kisses are.” Pressing her lips back against mine, her tongue in my mouth. My hands were roaming her sides, her back, her butt, over her babydoll, under it, our lips smashed together.

She pulled her lips away, “And then...” She slipped a strap off her left shoulder, exposing her breast and pushed my head down, “He sucks my nipple every bit as nice as he kisses,” letting out a long moan as I sucked it in my mouth. I almost thought I detected a little liquid leaking into my mouth with a sweet taste as I sucked on her tit.

“Ohh, God!” she moaned as she repositioned her body just a little, pulling her panties aside and letting my cock sink inside her delectably hot, wet pussy. I moaned at the feeling enveloping me.

“Nicky ... likes my pussy ... I like him inside me!” she said, grinding herself down on me, squeezing hard with those Ben-Wa-ball-toned muscles.

“Ginger’s pussy ... so hot!”

“Couch,” she breathlessly grunted.

I stood, carrying my wife, leaning back against my arms and pressing herself onto me, legs wrapped around my waist. I climbed onto the couch, struggling just a little with my wife wrapped around me until she could fall back on the seat.

“Different ... position...” she whimpered, breathlessly.

She rolled over on her tummy, then up onto her knees, spreading them as wide as she could on the relatively narrow couch. It’s more comfortable for her with her tummy. Besides the little fact that it’s sexy as hell!

“ ... how Nicky fucked me ... after your text.”

God! I pictured it in my mind and drove my cock into her, pushing her panties aside again and pulling her hips back. Good thing our kids are sound sleepers and their doors were closed with the moaning noises coming from both their parents. Quiet just wasn’t going to be on the agenda.

“Hard ... show Nicky how it’s done!” as I drove my cock into her pussy a second time. Addie’s teasing about ‘Nicky’ was driving me out of my mind, my eyes closed and I pictured Nick driving his cock into my wife. The morning of their modeling session was like it was happening in front of me all over again ... watching through that two-way glass. For just a moment, it wasn’t me pummeling my cock into my Addie, it was him.

“So hot ... like Ginger! Show ... Ginger ... how ... you ... fuck your husband!” She drove herself back onto me, pressing my cock so deep inside her, trying to stifle a groan.

Then she pushed her legs further apart, almost falling off the couch before I caught her, bringing me back to the present. It wasn’t him behind my wife, it was me! And I realized how badly I needed this. This was MY wife and I intended to prove it to her. I’ve read about men ‘reclaiming’ their wife, but never thought that way, it had never even entered my mind ... not until now.

I fucked my wife like it was our first time in months, driving my cock, full length into her, over and over again! She pressed back onto me with every thrust, groaning anew with every one. My vision of her and Nick had reverted to Sunday afternoon, his couch. And I couldn’t hold back my orgasm a second longer. I tried to stifle my scream as Addie was muffling her own. On my final thrust into her, I felt those muscles once again, squeezing, pulling, multiplying the intensity of my orgasm.

When it was over, both our bodies were slick with sweat. She was laying on the couch, still on her tummy. I’d pulled out of her and was sitting, unable to move. It was several minutes before Addie struggled, rolling over and sat beside me, her head on my shoulder.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

We sat several more minutes before she pushed her panties down. They were soaked with the combination of my cum and her juices. She looked at me and asked if I’d please get her a cloth.

By then I’d recovered enough to walk. I retrieved a kitchen towel and handed it to her, watching as she wiped the goo from between her legs. She smiled as she worked, “That was fun ... almost as good as Nick.”

But from her tone and her twinkling face, I knew she was teasing once again. If there was such a thing as ‘reclaiming’, I was more than happy at what we’d just done. And maybe it had worked both ways – she’d reclaimed her husband as well.

After we climbed in bed and were snuggled together like we used to before any of this started, Addie asked me, “Tell me about Ginger ... did she like my present?”

It took me a minute to realize what present she was talking about, then it hit me – the vibrator.

I laughed, thinking about Ginger’s first foray with a remote-controlled vibrator. “We went to Fujiyama’s the first Saturday night. I gave it to her right before we left.” I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of Ginger when I turned it on the first time in the restaurant, “There were three other couples sitting with us. The time we went to Kyoto’s here in Boise, how they did the onions then made a little surprise volcano? That’s the instant I turned it on the first time. Her shriek was hilarious. She’d completely forgotten it was inside her.

“Then through dinner, when I kept it on; turning it up and down, she wasn’t good at all at hiding her feelings. I think there was a time or two when she moaned, the chef thought he maybe should call 911 ... she put on quite a good show during dinner.

“Then when we got back to her house, we used the back of her couch in a manner that she said she hadn’t ever expected.” And I hoped she’d never forget.

“That’s all the further we could get into the house, before...” I told her.

Addie giggled; god, I love that giggle! “The back of the couch ... you mentioned that the other day. Then we got a little, umm, busy and I forgot to ask you about it. Any other momentous times?” she asked.

“Well, they were pretty much all momentous, almost every night.” And I told her about our road trip on Sunday, how I talked Ginger into taking her top and bra off, then meeting a young couple at Dry Falls.

“At what?” she asked. “This something I would know about?”

I’d forgotten that we’d never been there before. “We need to go, take the kids on a trip. I’ll tell you about it later, but... “ And I proceeded to tell her about the couple we met, the girl taking her top off, too, then starting to make out with Ginger. “ ... and then Monday morning when Susan was hiring, guess who one of her new employees was.”

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