My wife, Kimber, has the body of a porn-star. She's a five-foot-two natural blonde and has a figure that makes men drool like wolves over a kill. The problem is, she has a libido to match. I thought she might cool-down some after we were married, but that didn't happen. If anything, she got worse. I didn't mind the sex three to four times a day. Hell, I knew what I was getting when I proposed to her. But that was before work at the plant picked-up and we had to start putting in regular overtime.

In the morning it was OK. I usually woke with a raging hard-on that I could put to good use. Or she could, since she like being on top so much. Bedtime was fine, as long as she didn't take too long getting off, which sometimes meant not getting to sleep until after midnight. It was coming home after a long shift that was tough. Mind you, most guys would love it if their wives met them at the door wearing something sexy and sheer with a needy look in their eyes, but those guys aren't having to satisfy an insatiable sex-kitten like Kimber. I came home to that every damn day. No pressure there!

The extra hours had started wearing me down and I was having to put her off more and more often lately. This wasn't sitting well with Kimber, who felt that three times a day was her absolute minimum and anything less was depriving her of something she needed and craved.

She wasn't kind about it either. She could act so spoiled at times!

"What's the matter Tommy?" She'd whine. "Been jerking-off too much at work again? Not enough left for me? A real man wouldn't leave me all hot and frustrated. Maybe I should see if Boris is doing anything. I know he wants to fuck me. Maybe tonight's the night I let him do it."

Bringing up Boris was her version of the Nuclear Option. We'd traded fantasies one night and I had unwisely told her that one of my nastier ones was about her doing it with a guy who was seriously hung. A description that unfortunately matched my Army buddy, Boris Gorski. Boris had been to dinner at our house a few times. She knew him better than most of my other buddies. That is, well-enough to do some serious flirting with him in front of me. So his name was the one she used whenever she wanted to push my cuckold button – without understanding why it worked so well. The thing I'd never told her was: When Boris and I had been on our last deployment, I'd got a good look at his johnson when he got out of the shower and was drying-off in front of me. My dick is above average, but Boris had a good three inches on me, and his dick was much thicker than mine. I didn't know what that thing looked look like when it was hard, but I could imagine. And more than once, I'd imagined a naked Kimber on her back, squirming wildly while Boris shoved his big dong into her. That was the part of that fantasy I swore to take to my grave.

One day I came home after working even later than usual and my ass was really dragging. Kimber was on the sofa, naked. She had her feet braced on the edge of the coffee table with her knees splayed apart. Her back was arched, making her breasts ride up so her nipples pointed at the ceiling One arm was around her back, reaching down between her legs, where she was busily fucking herself with a blue dildo I didn't even know she had.

"Sorry I'm late, honey." I told her, offering an apology I strongly suspected would do me no good.

"That's all right," she said huskily, tugging on a rosy nipple with one hand while the other continued to run the plastic rod in and out. "If you're not going to be here to take care of my needs, I guess I'll have to do it myself."

No threats, no sarcasm, no escalation, not even an attempt to goad me into making the effort. Just a dismissal. I should have been worried, but I was too tired to be anything but grateful that we weren't going to argue. I hauled my carcass off to bed and crashed.

In the morning, things seemed back to normal. I woke with Kimber straddling me as she lowered herself onto my morning-wood.

"Good morning," I said.

There was no response. She just slid down my shaft, all oak-hard, seven-plus inches of it. I lay there, watching her gyrate and listening to her moan as she rode me, thinking that if she was going to treat my dick as just another dildo, then I should be grateful that it was my dick and not someone else's – like maybe Boris.

Once she'd climaxed, she collapsed onto my chest, her double-D breasts mashed between us, her stiff nipples digging into my skin and my hard dick still inside her. I put my hands on her back, stroking her until her ragged breathing began to return to normal, then slid my hands down to cup her butt.

Pulling her cheeks apart, I reached in and lightly touched her asshole with my finger. As usual, this made everything clench, including her pussy. I took advantage of this reflex, pushing into her so I could savor the way her pussy got so tight around the base of my dick. That gave me the last little big of stimulation to make my dick grow that last half-inch and make the veins on my dick stand-up.

Kimber moaned and opened her legs wider, encouraging me to use my now corrugated eight-inch shaft on her.

I did, rocking my hips so I was fucking her, going slow at first, then faster and faster as she responded. Typically for her, it only took a couple of minutes to bring her off a second time after she'd just cum.

I was still rock-hard and a long way from cumming. I figured this was my best shot at making-up to her for the night before, so I kept going while she was still in the throes of orgasm, doing my best to prolong it, but also selfishly thinking if I could wear her out, she would go back to sleep. Then I could get out of the house without our usual long good-bye.

My strategy failed. Even though she was still shaking from her latest climax, Kimber pulled herself up and off of my thrusting member.

"None of that, now!" she scolded me, clearly seeing through my plan. She slid back down my body until she was astride my thighs, then moved forward until my cock was against her belly and her hot crotch was resting on my balls. Then she reached down and wrapped her hand around my slick cock.

"I promised Lauren I'd hang out with her today," she told me, "I told her I'd be there early, but since you're so horny this morning, I suppose I can help you out for a few minutes. I'll make you cum ... just not in me. I don't want to be all gooey down there in case Lauren wants to go down on me. She says she doesn't like licking cum out of my pussy. She told me she thinks that should be your job. She's got a point, you know. You always want me to swallow when I suck you off. Maybe I should make it a rule that if you cum in me, then you have to lick my pussy clean again."

I declined to dignify Lauren's suggestion with a response.

Kimber took a firm grip on my dick and tugged on it. She rode her hips up until her clit was pressed against the underside of my dick, then she started bucking against it while pulling on my stiff dick.

She came quickly doing that, and her climax set me off too. Unfortunately, Kimber had such a strong grip on my dick that instead of my cum shooting up into her cleavage, it jetted out, the white stream flying up between her tits and scoring a bullseye on her left nostril.

"Damn you! You did that on purpose!" She screamed, utterly ignoring the improbability of me actually managing to pull that off – even if I'd tried, and the fact that she was the one responsible for aiming my dick.

She jumped out of bed with a cum-booger dangling out of her nose, and fled to the bathroom, where I heard her blow her nose. When she came back, her anger had faded a bit, but not enough to appreciate the humor in the situation. I, on the other hand, found it impossible to hide the fact that I found it funny as hell.

"Don't you dare laugh at me! Don't you dare!" That she merely shouted and not shrieked told me that she was more embarrassed than mad.

Then she stamped her foot. It was adorable and damn sexy at the same time. Sexy because Kimber can't really be anything but. Even more than usual because stamping her foot made her tits jiggle, something she made worse by pulling her shoulders back and putting her fists on her hips.

I thought that seeing that her jiggles had cured my giggles might help her get over being mad at me, but it wasn't to be. She marched off into our walk-in closet. When she came out, she'd pulled on an old shrunken-cotton work-shirt of mine that she'd taken to wearing instead of a robe. It came down far enough to be decent, but just barely. Normally she left it unbuttoned, but pulled closed enough to protect her tits while she was cooking. If someone came to the door, she did-up a couple of buttons. This made her very popular with teen boys selling band-candy. Less so with the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Kimber said nothing and didn't even glance my way. I considered the silent treatment to be an improvement over the shouting, so I kept quiet too. She marched off down the hall to the kitchen to make breakfast while I showered and dressed for work.

I was tying my boots when I heard the front door open and close. Curious, I finished quickly then went to the window and peeked out just in time to see Kimber in the front yard, bending over to pick up the newspaper from our small plot of grass. She was facing the street, so I couldn't tell, but I hoped she'd at least remembered to fasten a button or two on her shirt.

I'd tried to get used to my wife's casual exhibitionism. She was well-aware that she had a fantastic body and she got a great deal of enjoyment out of showing it off. She understood the concept of 'modesty' only from the dictionary definition. Her preference in clothes was - to put a positive spin on it – 'less is more'. Which could be a bit too much less at times. However, as much as I enjoyed seeing her walk around wearing the bare minimum or less, it embarrassed me when I wasn't the only one who got to appreciate the view. Kimber considered my attitude on this to be overly-possessive and a lack of respect for her as a person, and I'd learned to keep my mouth shut on the subject or risk starting an argument.

I thought the early hour would mean no one would be out walking their dog or jogging and her little show would go unseen. I was wrong. Just as she was standing up, a landscaper's truck roll to a stop on the street. A man's hairy arm beckoned to her from the cab and she walked over to see what he wanted.

"I know what he wants!" I said, under my breath. "And you know it too! Get away from there."

I couldn't hear a word of their conversation. All I had to go on was body language. I assumed he was asking if we needed our grass cut, or the flower bed mulched or something. I thought I might see Kimber shake her head and decline, or perhaps accept a business card from him before sending him on his way. Instead, their conversation continued, every second making me more uncomfortable – a feeling that became much worse when Kimber stepped up on the truck's running-board and raised her hands to grab the cargo-rack on top of the cab. I suppose she could have just got tired of looking up at the man and stepped-up so they would be eye-to-eye, but I would have been better with that assumption if I hadn't thought of what raising her arms might have done to the hang of that shirt in front. In the back, about half her ass was in view. From where I was standing, nothing convinced me that it wasn't open enough to let him see everything there was to see.

Angry with the images my mind was conjuring, I left the bedroom window and dashed down the hall to the living room, where I lifted one slat of the blinds on the window next to the front door and peeked out.

From the new angle I couldn't see that much better. Just Kimber, perched on the truck's running-board. She was now up on the balls of her feet. Being so petite, she often did that to get those extra few inches of height. Even though part of the open truck window wasn't blocked, it was still too dark to see inside. The damn shirt also shielded much of my view from this angle as well. For that to happen I saw no possible way that it wasn't completely open in front, meaning that some total stranger was enjoying a close-up and personal encounter with my wife's bare tits.

My hand was on the doorknob, ready to yank the door open, when it occurred to me that storming out of the house to break-up whatever was happening might just backfire. Even if she was doing something inappropriate out there, did I really think they would continue long enough for me to catch them in the act? Or would I just look like a gigantic, over-possessive jerk while they both claimed total innocence? It felt like I was already on probation with her on the possessiveness thing. With the rest of the tension between us, was it worth the risk of making things worse?

"No," I decided. I set my jaw and went back to the window to resume my surveillance. "She might even be trying to provoke me into something just that dumb. This could all be an act."

It was a good act. Her casual hold on the roof-rack had become a tight grip. I lost sight of the back of her head for a few seconds, as she leaned into the truck, and I thought she might be about to crawl or be dragged inside. I procrastinated some more, waiting for irrefutable evidence. Before I could tear myself away from the window, she pulled back and stepped down. Then I saw the shirt go tight across her back as she pulled it closed. The truck drove away. As it did, I took note of the sign on the side: Niko Petropoulos – Landscape Services.

I dropped the slat and ran for the kitchen, where I slid into my chair, gulped half my orange juice, bolted a huge fork-full of egg and crammed a piece of toast into my mouth to make it look like I'd been sitting at the table the whole time.

The front door opened just as I was choking down half my breakfast in one gulp. I tried to look casual as I looked over my shoulder at Kimber, walking in with the newspaper in one hand and the other tugging on her shirt to try to get it straight – a task made impossible because she'd got the buttons into the wrong holes.

She said nothing, just dropped the paper onto the table next to me. As she turned away to pour herself a cup of coffee, I could see her in profile and I noticed that her nipples were so stiff they were making bulges in the thin fabric of the shirt. Fairly large bulges, too.

"Thanks for getting the paper," I said, trying to look like I was reading the paper, but watching her closely out of the corner of my eye instead.

"Unhunh," she said, almost mumbling. Kimber got her coffee poured, then noticed that her shirt was buttoned wrong. She undid it, but instead of buttoning it up again right away, she put her hands up under the shirt and onto her breasts. She stood there, massaging them with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open, oblivious to everything but the pleasure she felt.

I really tried to look away, but it was one of those can't look – can't not look situations. Granted, when she'd gone outside, it was right after she'd cum three times in less than half an hour. She was never more susceptible to stimulation than right after she'd just had an orgasm. So it wouldn't have taken much to get her going again. I just wished to hell I knew what exactly had gone on out there that had got her into this state. Was it just Kimber's rampant sex-drive that was responsible, or was it something this Greek guy did to make her this crazy? Either way, if I ever ran across Mr. Petropoulos when my wife wasn't around, he and I were going to have a conversation. Probably one he wouldn't enjoy.

Kimber was still in her own little world as I swallowed the last of my coffee. Pretending to check my watch in case she suddenly snapped out of it, I leaned forward to get a better look. As I did, she moved her hands away, sliding them down her body. The motion let the shirt fall back from her shoulders and catch on her arms, giving me a nice profile look at her high, full breasts.

The pink area around her nipples had wrinkled-up, turning them into pedestals for her even stiffer nipples. All that tightness was clearly the reason she'd been massaging them.

I was still staring when she brought her hands back up and cupped the ends of her breasts, pressing her palms over them. I heard a hiss as she sucked air though clenched teeth, then, taking each nipple between a thumb and forefinger, she pulled on them – hard. So hard that she stretched them out well-past what I would have thought would hurt like heck. Then, giving a shudder, she let go and took a deep breath.

Seeming to notice me sitting there for the first time, she turned to face me. I caught a whiff of a familiar smell and when I glanced down I saw the insides of her thighs were freshly-wet.

"Have a nice day at work," she said with no intonation in her voice. "I'm going to take my shower now. I need ... to get to Lauren's."

With that, she left and went back to the bedroom. I stuck my head around the corner just in time to see the door close behind her.

"Fuck!" I said, but quietly. I still didn't understand what had gone on, either what had happened at the truck, or what had put Kimber in such a state, and I was starting to be afraid of the answer. Shaking my head, I put my plate in the sink and ran hot water onto it. I knew Kimber was highly sexually-responsive, but this was something I'd never seen before.

Since thinking about Petropoulos was so aggravating I was afraid I might get into an accident before I got to work, I thought about what Kimber and Lauren might get up to, a much more pleasant picture. The two women had known each other since high school and they were very similar, both physically and in their overt sexuality. Lauren had dark-brown hair, where Kimber's was honey-blonde. They were the same height, and I assumed the same weight. Lauren had wider hips and a rounder ass, but otherwise the two could have been sisters, except sisters usually keep their hands off each other. That was something Lauren and Kimber couldn't seem to manage. Every time I'd seen them together, they'd been all over each other. Hugging, kissing, touching ... it drove me crazy.

For a long time, I'd thought Lauren was a lesbian because she was always so touchy-feelie with Kimber. Several times, I'd expected them to get it on right in front of me. But things had, so far, never gone that far, which was something of a disappointment. Kimber in a clinch with Lauren was something I really wanted to see – as closely as I could manage.

As grateful as I was for the possibility of getting to watch the two of them do each other, I didn't really like Lauren terribly much. Where Kimber was, sexually, a free-spirit with an air of innocence. I thought Lauren had more of a hostile edge to her. I could imagine a guy crawling into her bed hearing her snarl, "Get it up, get it in, and get me off!" Nobody likes working under pressure.

That suggestion about me cleaning-up Kimber's pussy with my tongue was typical Lauren. Another disagreeable suggestion from her had been for me to agree to be cock-locked, with the promise that I would be released after a week of denial. There had been hints that I would get to watch Lauren take care of Kimber's sexual needs during that time. I'd been very close to consenting to that, but then I started to think about the consequences of surrendering control of my dick in a situation where the rules might change after the device was on. I trusted Kimber enough to do it, but Lauren was another matter completely. I thought she might be mean enough to swallow the key or some shit like that, leaving me with the problem of cutting my junk out of confinement without cutting something valuable off.

I really wanted to tell Kimber that I thought Lauren was a bad influence on her, but I knew better than to say any such thing. The two were long-time friends and, I assumed, lovers when I wasn't around. Trying to split them up wouldn't be a smart move on my part.

I rolled into work a few minutes early, so I went to hang-out in the break-room before it was time to clock-in. There, I ran into Chuck Purifoy, a knuckle-dragging, good-old-boy from Alabama who - to hear him talk - liked beer and women and not much else. He should have had a gut from all the beer he drank, but instead he had Abs, with a capital-A. His stomach was a washboard and his shoulders looked a yard wide. I guess working down on the loading-dock kept him in shape.

"Hey, Tommy-boy! How they hangin'?"

"Same old, same old, Chuck. You?"

"Good! Look, they just posted the schedule for the company picnic. Are you gonna come this year?"

"That's mostly for people with kids. I dunno if I'll make it."

"Aw man! You got to come! You got to bring your wife too."

Now I saw where the conversation was going. Last year, Kimber had worn something more appropriate for a little girl, not the big-girl she'd become. Her daisy-duke shorts with the zipper at half-mast and the crotchet bikini-top had brought her all the attention she could have wanted, especially while she was joining in games that required a lot of jumping around. I'd fully expected to hear from HR about that, but it never happened and while several people commented on it later, no one filed a complaint.

"We'll see," I told Chuck.

"Man, I hope you do! Kimber has got to be the hottest piece of ass in this town. I'm into women who are proud of what they've got and who get off on showing it. I want you to know I totally appreciate you letting her do it too. I gotta respect a man who's cool with his woman strutting her stuff. The world needs more guys who are willing to share the wealth, you know?"

"Um, thanks, I think."

"So, listen, since you're good with letting her run wild and everything, I wanna ask you a favor. I got some pals coming to town this weekend We were just gonna go out to Harry's fishing shack and see how many brews we can pound down, but then I got to thinking that a little entertainment wouldn't be a bad idea. A chick like Kimber who's into shaking her moneymaker and likes to party down would be real welcome. There's gonna be plenty of cold beer on hand. I think we need something hot, too. So, are you good with loaning her to us for the night? You think she'd be up for it?"

It took me a few seconds to get past the BS and the good-old-boyisms. Once I did, I realized that Chuck was asking me to loan my wife out for a party in some isolated place where she'd be expected to put on a strip-show before fucking Chuck and any of his buddies who weren't too drunk to get it up once she'd got down to her skin. My first reaction was disgust. Second was a strong desire to punch Chuck hard enough to knock that insultingly bad idea out of his thick redneck skull. Then I thought that maybe I could use this offer as a way to shock Kimber back to her senses. Kind of like how my momma had done when she caught me sneaking a cigarette and forced me to chain-smoke the whole pack to cure me of the urge.

"I'll have to ask her." I told him. "I don't think she has anything planned. I'll let you know."

"Well, Tommy, if you ain't the best pal! I sure do appreciate this!"

"Yeah, well. Don't let it get around, OK?"

Chuck winked at me with a huge leer on his face. "Don't worry. It'll just be me and five close friends out at the shack, and none of us will tell a soul. Listen, if she ever goes back to doing porn, let me know, OK. I'll buy me a copy of that DVD."

Chuck slapped me on the back hard enough to crack a rib, then lurched off to go punch-in.

I followed along, letting people get between us. I shook my head and wondered just which porn-star Chuck thought Kimber used to be. I had no clue. I'd got out of the porn habit shortly after we met. With her in my life, I hadn't needed the extra stimulation."

That afternoon, there was a problem up the line and they rang the bell and shut it down. We cooled our heels for a while, until word came down that one of our parts suppliers had screwed-up an order and they were going to have to double-check everything from one end to the other to find all the out-of-spec parts. We were told to clock out and go home while the QA guys sorted it out.

With all the OT I'd been putting in, I was fine with losing a couple of regular hours. I punched-out and headed home.

When I pulled into our driveway, Kimber's MiniCooper wasn't in the carport. I sat with the engine running and thought it over. Before things had taken a bad turn in the morning, Kimber had told me that she was going to see Lauren. I remembered that, but I thought surely she'd be home by this time.

"What could the two of them be up to?" I pondered, a smile slowly spreading across my face. "I think I'll just cruise on over there and find out."

Lauren lived in a condo on the south side of town. Rush hour traffic hadn't got going yet, so the drive was fairly quick. I saw Lauren's Lexus in it's reserved place and when I pulled into a visitor's space across the lot, I saw Kimber's car a few spots over.

There was no answer when I knocked on the door, so I figured they were out by the pool getting some sun while the chance of burning was low. But when I went down there, I couldn't see them anywhere. I looked up at the building and counted the floors and the balconies until I'd located what I thought was Lauren's. It was a bad angle, but I thought I saw a shapely leg dangling off a lounge chair. I couldn't tell whose it was, but it didn't matter, I'd solved the mystery. They had gone out on the balcony to sunbathe and shut the sliding glass door behind them to keep the cool air in. That explained why no one had heard my knock.

My other theory was that they were making-out or something, and were too involved to notice anything but each other. I wanted that one to be correct, and I wanted to catch them at it.

I looked for a vantage point from which I could see Lauren's balcony. The wing across from the pool was only three stories tall, so no help there. The only way seemed to be to rent a helicopter and fly over. I wasn't ready to go that far, yet.

The balconies were designed to be private. There were full-height walls on both sides. Lauren was in the end unit on the fourth floor. If I could get into the next-door apartment, I could lean out and peek around. The problem there would be talking my way into her neighbor's place – unlikely.

Then I noticed the stairwell. It was in the very corner of the building, and was the reason the corner units were no better than the others. But every floor in the stairwell had a window and the windows could be opened so the fire department could run a ladder up there if necessary. I could walk up to the fifth floor, open the window and lean out far enough to look down onto Lauren's balcony.

The climb up was easy. The window opened without a problem. When I eased my head out, I found I could see the lounge chair closest to the railing without risking falling to my death.

What I saw was both of them on the same lounge, completely naked. Their heads were at opposite ends of the lounger and their legs were entwined. They were holding hands and using that leverage to pull their bodies together so that their pussies met. They were rubbing them together very slowly.

"Holy fuck!" I said, turning it into a whisper at the very last second. "This is seriously hot! This may be the hottest thing I've ever seen!"

I turned my head to see if I could hear anything from below. There was a breeze, so it was hard to hear. Then the breeze died down and, I heard Kimber moan.

"Oh, Lauren! This is awesome! I could do this all day."

"Is it as good as fucking Tommy?" Lauren asked, in what to someone else might have sounded like teasing, but to me it was a malicious tone.

"Nothing is as good as fucking. I could fuck all day and all night too."

Kimber sounded giddy. I wondered how long they'd been at this. Then I wondered how long they could keep doing it. Women are damn lucky.

"Didn't you say Tommy isn't doing it for you any more?" Lauren asked, taking yet another swipe at me.

"He's not keeping up with me like he used to. He says he's tired-out from work, but I don't know ... maybe I'm being too demanding. It's easy to be understanding now. But when I'm sitting there waiting and he drags in late and tries to make excuses for why he can't get it up for me ... well, that makes me a bit bitchy."

"Or maybe you're just too woman much for him. If he's not satisfying you, maybe it's time to so what the chicken farmer did when his rooster wasn't able to take care of all the hens."

"What's that?"

"Get a new cock!"

"Funny. Seriously, I don't want to divorce Tommy. I love him and he loves me."

"Then don't ditch him. But you obviously need more than he can give you."

"Are you saying I should cheat on him?"

"Isn't he already cheating you out of something you need very badly?"

"He's not doing it on purpose, Lauren. At least, I don't think he is.

"But you do still need it. And he's not giving it to you. He can't blame you for needing something he can't give you. He should be OK with letting you off the leash so you can get it somewhere else. He seems to be fine with you and me."