Chapter 6

'Family time' that Monday night was filled with coy looks and double entendre between husband and wife, leaving the children blissfully ignorant.

I was about to burst, Beverly had made it clear that I was not to touch 'her cock.' All I was allowed was to relieve my bladder, and that I was to do sitting down to reduce the temptation to relieve the other constantly building pressure.

A little after nine, my wife announced she was going to bed early, giving the kids their goodnight kisses. "I don't know why," she yawned, "I just feel worn out from the events of the day."

She kissed me and whispered "ten 'till ten." I couldn't hustle the kids to bed fast enough. They always seemed to think they could get more dawdling time in when dad was responsible for the 9:30 bedtime. That night they were wrong, and I was left with the full twenty minutes to wait in the living room and cool my heels before I opened the door to our bedroom.

Beverly had set the scene perfectly. Our bed had been draped with crisp white linens and flowers, transforming it into an exotic, tented divan more appropriate to the bedroom of an ancient Greek princess than a suburban wife. A note on parchment on a chair near the bed read simply "Strip, and kneel, bedservant."

I did as the note commanded, my erection throbbing and aching as I knelt by the side of the bed to await her arrival. The bathroom door opened and with my head obediently bowed the first thing I saw was my wife's beautiful feet in the sandals that had caused so much distraction and a refreshed glistening coat of red polish.

My adoring gaze travelled upward to find her dressed even more simply than the toga dress she had worn on the night before. A long narrow strip of cool, white fabric was draped over one shoulder and tied at her waist with a golden rope sash.

The flimsy drape barely covered the treasure between her legs in front and reached just down to the lower curve of her ass in back, leaving her sides completely and deliciously exposed. The round swell of the sides of her breasts proved that she was braless, and unless she wore panties that magically stayed up without a waistband, she was just as naked beneath the short hem of the alluring makeshift costume.

Anachronistically, my Hellenistic princess carried her tablet computer at her side. She breezed past me and placed the tablet on the nightstand, then posed stretched out on her side in the carefully prepared tableau. She was cautious to maintain the cover of the drape as she lay down, recalling the pose of a neoclassical model.

"Well, do you think this is a suitable setting for pictures?"

I was agape for the fourth or fifth time that day. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd been caught in a state of erotically-charged amazement on a single day, when before this weekend I think it had been years since the last time.

I looked around, and didn't see her cell phone.

"Behind the chair," she guided me. There was a tripod with a digital camera attached. "I've heard that your excitement makes taking sexy pictures more difficult."

She was right; my hands were shaking worse than they had been with Kim earlier in the day. My wife had never let me take these types of pictures before, and here she was, barely dressed, having turned our bedroom into an elaborate scene for erotic photography. And, she was planning on sending he pictures to one of my subordinates. My whole body was shaking as I framed her long, curvy body in the first shot.

Beverly directed me to take a few close-ups focused on her shoes and feet while she held the same languorous pose, then tsited her lower body toward me, bending one knee so that one ankle rested on the knee of the leg still stretched out on the bed. The draping cloth fell from her beautiful ass, exposing her rounded globes while her position still concealed her more private charms.

She smiled wickedly at me. "Too much?" she asked coquettishly.

"N ... no." I stammered helplessly.

I took a few more pictures, and noticed that her change of position had also exposed a quarter moon of dark areola.

She changed her pose again, rolling on her back, propped up by pillows, drawing her feet up towards her bottom, knees together. The short piece of cloth she wore was wholly inadequate to the task of covering her in this position, and the only thing that kept the pictures I eagerly took from exposing all of her warm womanly charms was the careful positioning of her ankles.

"This feels so naughty," she purred. "I wish I'd let you talk me into taking pictures before ... I can't believe I'm going to send these to Kim."

Bev rolled toward me onto her stomach, her knees still together and her sandal-clad feet held over her naked ass, the back flap of the homemade toga having abandoned her has she rolled.

"How's this?" She flexed her ass cheeks by kicking one leg at a time over her back. All I could manage in response was a groan of pleasure. My wife had activated the tablet and was looking at the picture of Kim that I took when my reporter was standing at the bookshelf.

"She has no butt ... not like mine. I never thought I had a big butt, but it's huge compared to that little tiny ass of hers. You do like my ass, don't you honey?"

"I love your ass, Bev. It's perfect."

"Mmm, thanks, baby." She slipped one knee off the edge of the bed, parting her thighs and giving me, and the camera, a perfect view of her puffy pink lips. I snapped a quick picture before she asked, "lick it baby, lick my ass ... it makes me feel so good."

I crawled up between her legs, gladly leaving my photographer duties to orally service my wife's tight rosebud.

"Oh, that's it right there; you make me feel so good when you do that." She didn't look back at me, preferring instead to examine the high definition pictures of my employee. "Do you think she likes her ass licked? I bet she's never had it done as good as you do it."

Beverly arched up and untied the sash around her waist. I tried to keep my lips in contact with her tight pucker but she ordered me to go back to the camera. "Get close-ups of my asshole all wet with your spit, honey." Once she had slipped off the strip of cloth and the sash, she brought her feet up over her ass again, this time with her knees spread so that the pretty sandals, now framed her delicious honeypot and her asshole, still slick from my tongue.

My hands were shaking hard as I snapped pictures of my naked wife. "Are you sending these to Kim?" I asked, my voice quavering, thrilled by the thought of another woman examining images of my lover's beautiful sex.

"Maybe," she teased. "After all, it's got me so hot looking at her pictures ... don't you think I should return the favor?"

Beverly slipped her hand under her and fingered herself as she flipped through the pictures Kim had taken of herself. "I can practically see her tight little cunt through those panties ... the little slut. Oh she's such a hot little bitch."

She rolled onto her back and spread her legs, holding the tablet in one hand and working her pussy with the other. I snapped away as she narrated her fantasy. "I want her here at my house ... dropped off by that big hairy boyfriend. I want him to know we're going to use her. Make her strip outside the front door, while he's still here. Make her walk back to the car in nothing but those red stripper shoes, hand her clothes to him and tell him not to wait up as she walks her naked ass back into our house."

Her eyes locked onto mine. "Eat me ... lick me while I tell my story," she snarled. I took a last picture of her fierce masturbation and crawled up between her legs, starting gently with my lips and my breath.

"She comes into our house and you are naked already, hard and lubed up for her. I'm in an elegant gown, slit to the hip. I make you both kneel and kiss my feet, lick my toes." She gasped, lacing her fingers through into my hair and pulling my mouth down hard on her gushing pussy.

"I sit down and bend her tiny little slut body over my knee. Such a nasty little slut ... I spank her hard and ... you stick my cock in her mouth ... choke her with my cock ... she can't cry from the spanking ... she has to suck." Beverly trembled.

"My fingers, in her ass ... in her pussy ... oh, that's it ... my hand inside her ... she cums on my knee ... wet, hot juices ... my cock cums down her throat..." That was all the story she could manage before my wife gave in to the powerful throes of orgasm herself.

I knew to touch her clit gently as she came and back off when her gasps turned to sighs. I kissed her inner thighs and worked my way up her belly as she entered the soft haze of post-orgasmic satisfaction.

As I kissed my way to her face and after she gently sucked my tongue she looked over and smiled. "I thought we were going to take it easy tonight?"

I laughed, my hands were still shaking. "It's all relative, I guess."

She pouted, "Aw, you haven't cum yet, have you?"

My cock was aching-hard. "No. May I, please?"

Her eyes narrowed and she gave me the most evil grin, "Isn't it more fun this way? On the edge all the time? C'mon, admit it ... you spent more time thinking about me today than you ever have at work before, didn't you?"

She knew the answer; there was no way I could get away with a lie. "Yes. I thought about you constantly."

"I should make you save it up for me ... how long do you think you could go without cumming?"

I typically masturbated a couple of times a day. I wasn't sure how I'd made it this long, to be honest. "A couple of days, maybe, before I go insane and just explode in my pants the first time you brush against me."

"That's so sweet of you honey, you must love me very much to put yourself through that much frustration just for me." I pouted, not realizing that my admission had become an offer.

She smiled at me happily. "A couple more days, then we'll see how little it takes to get you to explode." She thought about it a moment, feeling the steel-hard shaft throbbing against her thigh, as though it was doing its own mute begging.

"You still need to call me whenever you're at work and get hard, so I can make myself cum by listening to your sexy stories."

"Aw, Bev..." I tried not to whine but her frown indicated that I wasn't very successful. I swallowed my objection. After all, I had promised.

"Put on you boxers and get some sleep. I have an e-mail to compose." She slipped off her sandals and retrieved the camera, swapping its memory card to the tablet and sitting cross-legged on the bed.

It was over two hours later, long after my wife had finished giggling and tapping away on the tablet screen, after she had turned off her light and was sleeping contentedly by my side, that I resolved to stop looking at the oh-so-slow-moving clock by the bed. Sometime later I finally drifted to sleep.

Tuesday my commute was sweet sexual torture on my regular bus ride from near our house to our office building. Every nerve was sensitized. Every casual glance from an attractive woman sent me into a heightened state of sexual tension. The sheer power of my sexuality was something I hadn't felt since adolescence. It made me feel young again.

The office was even more torturous. Maria and Chanda, perhaps subconsciously jealous of the attention Kim had received from me the day before, had both chosen to dress more provocatively than usual. Maria rarely wore skirts and when she did, they were almost always knee length or longer.

In this day, she wore a peach pleated skirt and matching sheer blouse over a camisole slip, her long dark curls loosely brushed over her shoulders. Her desk was across the aisle from Kim's, meaning that just like Kim, I could observe Maria's every move without apparently paying attention at all. It seemed her shiny new tan pumps were hurting her feet, because she kept slipping the shoes off and showing me her stocking covered soles as she worked, or worse, dangling the shoe provocatively from her toe.

Chanda wore a deep green sweater that refected the color of her eyes and set off perfectly against her soft red hair. It was even shorter than the one that Kim had worn the day before. She wore black tights that covered her rubenesque form like spray paint. Her sweater was "V"-necked, so every time she came into my office to get something signed she gave me a quick peek down her sweater at her bountiful, pale, freckled cleavage.

All in all, since I was hard from the moment I sat down and saw Maria dangling her pumps on the toe of one stockinged foot, I wasn't too upset that Kim was late. Having the three of them there, with Kim in on the torture, would only make it worse.

When my ace reporter did finally arrive, I was glad I was sitting down. She hadn't even bothered with subtlety whn she made her wardrobe choices. Starting with the red platform pumps that I had found so vexing in the past, she added short white ruffled socks, and a dark red, snug miniskirt that was actually a bit longer than the sweater dress of yesterday. Her blouse appeared to be a plain white cotton, man's dress shirt, that she wore untucked and unbuttoned to the middle of her chest, and held together, barely, with a silk pinstriped suit-vest.

She didn't stop at her desk, just dropped off her purse on the fly and breezed directly into my office, closing the door behind her.

As nonchalant as yesterday, she strolled over to my bookcase and examined my memorabilia. Anyone outside would have thought we were just having a casual chat.

"I hope you like the outfit, boss. Beverly asked me to wear something that will keep your cock hard all day." She didn't even glance over to see me trying to contain my excitement. She knew exactly what she was doing. "We spend a long time talking this morning, that's why I'm late. I really liked the picture she sent me last night, the one on her stomach, in nothing but those sexy shoes over her round naked bottom."

I tried to say something, but just ended up stammering, I tried to turn away from her, to hide my throbbing bulge under the desk, but she stopped me.

"Don'r try to cover up ... Bev told me you're not allowed to touch it, so don't get any ideas. I'm supposed to monitor you today. Make sure you stay hard but don't get any relief."

At that point I couldn't help but emit a pitiful groan. She simply grinned and continued.

"I liked that picture so much that I wrote her begging for more. That's when she made me call her. She told me to put her on speakerphone while I looked at her picture. She ordered me to take off my nightgown and panties and play with myself. It made me so wet to tell your wife how I was sitting, with my legs spread and two fingers jammed deep inside myself, rubbing my clit with my thumb."

"Stop, please?" I rasped. I really thought I was going to lose my load in my pants just from the effect of her detailed explanation.

"But I'm not done yet. You'll never believe what happened next." She picked up one of the least significant knick-knacks off my shelf, a golf ball I won as a joke prize at a company tournament, and rolled it from one hand to the other as she talked to me. "Bev sent me a picture of her asshole and her hot, wet cunt. God, it got me so excited when she told me her ass was all shiny from your spit, that you had been licking her and sticking your tongue up inside her. I stuck a finger in my own ass and Bev listened as I had an loud orgasm right there on the phone."

My legs started shaking visibly. "Please, stop, Kim. I can't take this."

"Aww, she told me you don't get to beg, so stop it, okay?" She looked at me seriously and walked toward me, still holding the golf ball. "So, anyway, I was moaning so loudly I didn't even hear when my boyfriend came into the room, naked, complaining that I woke him up." Kim leaned back against my desk, her back to the glass wall.