Natasha
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Posted:Jul 23, 2013 2:22 pm
Last Updated:Jul 4, 2017 2:07 pm
5354 Views
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I heard a knock and opened the door. It was a sunny spring morning and a wonderful slender brunette was smiling at our door step.
“Natasha?” I inquired.
“Vicky?” the brunette replied.
“Please do come in”.
Roger had been working with Natasha some time ago and had produced some beautiful nudes of her. My husband was out of town, but had told me that the Russian model might call on me to pick up a few prints. So there she was, beautiful indeed in her short dress. I let the elegant Russian model into our living room.
“Would you care for some tea?” I inquired.
“This would be wonderful” replied Natasha with a dazzling smile.
I disappeared in the kitchen to boil some water and then walked down to the basement where Roger had prepared a pile of prints for Natasha.
“Please let me help you” the Russian model proposed, when I returned, my hands full with a tea tray and the prints. She took the tray from my hands and, as she did, our fingers softly brushed. A lovely and surprising warmth spread immediately from the tip of my fingers to my entire body. Intrigued, I sat down.
Sipping her tea, Natasha slowly unpacked the pictures and reviewed them. I admired the fine black and white nudes my husband had made of the Russian woman. They were very sensual and full of eroticism, and yet very classy. Soft and back light elegantly caressed Natasha’s curves, hips, legs, breasts, in a multitude of poses. She didn’t seem to mind to display her nudity in front of a stranger.
“Roger is very talented” she said.
I smiled. Indeed, my husband was very talented. I couldn’t hold my eyes drifting from these sensual pictures to their model. Natasha’s long and slender legs disappeared under a short dress. Her cleavage was deep and I could see through the thin cloth the intricate lace covering her generous breasts. I felt my hearth beat faster.
We then chatted a while about our husbands. How many years were we each married? How many ? How old? Which school were they going? Natasha uncrossed her legs and our feet brushed. Confused, the model extended her hand on my thigh to apologize. The warmth of her palm spread again across my body. We froze, silent, staring at each other. She did not remove her hand and I didn’t protest. I then noticed how beautiful her large brown eyes were.
Suddenly, our lips met. She felt soft and warm. It felt right. I closed my eyes and our lips met again. For longer, this time. I felt Natasha’s fingers unbutton my blouse and her slender hands cup my breasts, tease my hardening nipples. Again, this lovely warmth spread across my body.
I opened my eyes and jumped up. No, it didn’t feel right. Natasha looked at me, startled and worried. I took her gently by the hand.
“Not here. Follow me.” I whispered.
We climbed the stairs to our bedroom. I shut the blinds, closed the door, and kissed her with passion.
“Is it the first time … with a woman?” Natasha inquired timidly.
I nodded.
“Don’t worry” she smiled back. “We are far gentler than men.”
Her cloths slipped off her slender body, revealing the sensual curves Roger had so skillfully rendered in his pictures. Had he slept with Natasha? Had his hands caressed her soft skin? Had he buried himself into her soft triangle? My brain briefly wondered.
She then started to undress me, slowly, gently, kissing each part of my body she was uncovering. My neck. My breasts. My nipples. My most intimate parts. Her lips were soft and warm, her fingers skillful. She knew naturally where to kiss, to caress, to tickle and tease. I opened to her like a flower, trusting that she would take care of the delicate treasures I was offering her.
And I was not disappointed. She unleashed waves of pleasure, leaving me panting and exhausted, while not asking anything in return. Lying on the bed, half asleep, I felt once more her soft lips on mine, before she left the room. I heard her footsteps going down the stairs and the door gently slam.
Long minutes after, when I came down to the living room, wrapped in my gown, I found the pile of pictures still on the table where we had left them. Warm feelings awoke in me, seeing Natasha’s naked body again. I could not help let my finger linger a while on her breasts, her hips, her thigh. I took a print and gently pressed it against my lips. My gown slipped.
I was confused about my emotions, but felt terribly empty inside. I was totally oblivious of my nudity, and didn’t care anymore what the neighbors could see or think. I was grieving my loss.
I wrapped the prints lovingly. Perhaps one day she would come back and pick them up.
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After Show
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Posted:Jun 22, 2013 12:55 pm
Last Updated:Aug 6, 2016 8:38 am
4679 Views
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Vicky and I strolled out of the theater. The night was warm and the sky full of stars. We had just seen a comedy at the Kennedy Center and Vicky seemed extremely happy.
“Had a nice evening?” I whispered, kissing her on the cheek, as we were walking towards our car.
“You bet”, she replied mischievously.
“Enjoyed so much to show?”
“And my neighbor.”
“Sorry?”
“Didn’t you notice anything?”
I froze and stared at my wife. What was she talking about? At the same time, Vicky waved with a large smile to two pretty brunettes across the street, who waved and smiled in return.
“Do I know them?” I inquired, struggling to remember whether I had already been introduced. Admiring their slender long legs and nice breasts (although married, I am only a man), I concluded that I didn’t know them, less I should have remembered such pretty figures.
“My neighbors at the theater: Cathy and Veronica.” Vicky smiled.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, I have good news: in the world of lesbians, I am most probably super attractive. They spent the entire show hitting on me.”
“What?”
“You were probably too involved in the plot to notice what was going on next to you. This is often your problem, my love.”
My brain was now racing. Images of girl-on-girl action, threesomes, foursomes, were spinning in front of my eyes.
“Hitting on you?”
“The light had just turned off when our shoes collided. Cathy’s fingers immediately went down on my ankle, apologizing first and then very rapidly caressing. She whispered how she liked my shoes, but her fingers betrayed that she also loved what was in the shoes. They slowly climbed up my leg, higher and higher, as the plot unfolded and … I didn’t protest.”
My throat went dry.
“How high?” I managed to mumble, biting myself for not noticing the show that had taken place just next to me.
“High enough to enjoy a woman’s gentle caress.” Vicky smiled. “I must say that it is quite gratifying to know that one is still attractive.”
I imagined Cathy’s hand climbing up my wife thigh, slipping under her short dress, and perhaps burying itself deep in Vicky’s intimate garden. Had she been slowly fingered for the whole show? No wonder she enjoyed it so much. Had they been kissing? All this while I was so immersed in what was going on the scene.
“They had asked us whether we would be interested in a drink after the show” my wife added.
“They wanted a drink, so why have you waived them good night?’ I cried out.
‘Love, you are working tomorrow. I thought you would not care for a night of wild sex with three gorgeous women.”
I looked at Vicky miserably. What had I done to this woman to deserve this? I wondered.
“Love, you always grumble when I want some attention before a weekday. You have work the next day, you always complain. Naturally, I thought you would not be interested in watching me being pleased by two pretty women” she went on.
“Have you at least taken their contact information? Phone number? Email? We could perhaps hook up another time” I asked full of hope.
“Sorry, husband dear. They are from out of town and were inviting us at their hotel”.
We arrived at our car and slipped in. Vicky’s hand moved over my swollen pants and her eyes gazed at my hump.
“I see that my story is really turning you on” she smiled.
“Story? You made it all up?”
“Maybe, maybe not. In any case, I will make up for it, even if tomorrow you are working”
And man she did.
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Roger’s first threesome
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Posted:Nov 11, 2012 6:20 am
Last Updated:Jan 1, 2015 4:07 pm
5377 Views
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Roger is still away, but has just shared with me a “secret” that I wanted to share in turn with you: he just had his first threesome. I am happy for him, making me less guilty for my past behavior, and, if they are reading this blog, I wanted to thank the two fine women who so pleasured my Roger.
It seems that you had noticed my Roger one afternoon at the pool. Wide shoulders, nice pecs and abs probably don’t go unnoticed. You had decided to corner him that evening at the bar. Naughty girls, but I don’t blame you: he is so handsome. He was dazzled by your smiles, by your eyes, by your tanned skin, and of course by the size of your breasts (I can’t compete on this). Teasing him with the idea of a threesome and some girl-on-girl play closed the deal. How could my poor Roger resist? I had given him back his sexual freedom after all.
After a few drinks, you couldn’t hold back your hands anymore. You decided all three to go to his room. Once there, your cloths fell to the floor and naked you rapidly were in each other arms. Roger told me that he was surprised how naturally all this had felt. At no point, he had felt awkward playing with two women, none of the two being his wife.
He told me that he was amazed by the softness of your skin. While he was caressing and kissing the gorgeous and firm breasts of one, the other could not resist any longer the temptation of his weapon. You were nice enough to tell him that it was of good size, before sliding it between your lips. Soon, you were gulping his warm gift, letting him flow into your throat effortless.
How I would have liked to be there and play with you. Guide you naughty girls and let you know what my Roger loves. Watch you pleasure him. But it seems that you didn’t need my help to know exactly what to. He described how talented you were in wrapping your tongues around his mast, teasing and sucking, until he was flowing into your mouths.
He told me how you changed positions, how you exchanged caresses and kisses. He was amazed by your energy, leaving his mighty spear weak and sour. But you liked his performance so much that you even handed him at the end your phone number. I am not jealous, but impressed. I hope you have enjoyed him as much as I do, and look forward one day to meet you two.
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Lingerie
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Posted:Nov 1, 2012 11:08 am
Last Updated:Aug 6, 2016 8:40 am
5557 Views
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Why hadn’t I drawn the curtain thoroughly when entering the dressing room? I had kept it just slightly open so the young sales assistant could have a peep. This wasn’t like me.
Roger had been sending me letters daily, describing sex scenes with young women wearing lingerie. I was never a big fan of fancy underwear, but his letters had started to turn me on and I wanted to give him a special welcome home. So off I went one morning to V … Secrets.
In the shop, I was welcomed by a young female sales assistant who could have easily been one of these models pictured around the shop. She made me right away comfortable and we started gossiping rapidly like two old friends. She drove me along the shelves, teasing me with a bra, a panty, or a teddy that she thought would suite me.
Her eyes were caressing my curves, assessing the fullness of my breasts and the firmness of my thighs. This unusual attention was exciting me. I felt as if she was undressing me slowly, picturing me naked in the middle of the shop, and to my surprise, I loved that thought!
How lucky my lover was, she said softly, to have two women thinking about pleasing him. Were these purchases for any special occasion? She gently inquired. With these words, her fingers had softly touched my forearm and from that point a heat wave suddenly spread to my entire body. Confused, I gathered the lingerie I wanted to try and made way the best I could to the dressing rooms.
The sales assistant noticed immediately the gap I had left in the curtain and slowly approached. I started to undress slowly, knowing she was watching. I unbuttoned my blouse, dropped my skirt, and unfastened my bra. I gently caressed my breasts, noticing that I was already hard and dilated.
I didn’t dare turn my eyes to the assistant, but I knew she was not missing anything from the show I was giving her. Shame and pride were fighting in me. I was ashamed to show myself off like this, to a perfect stranger. This was against my conservative education. But I was proud of my body, of having attracted a young woman’s attention despite my years. I felt suddenly more self-confident with my nipples pointing up with arrogance.
Once I had tried all the outfits, I stepped out. My eyes crossed those of the sales assistant. Obviously she had enjoyed what she had just watched. When paying, our fingers slightly touched again, triggering lovely sensations across my body. She offered me any further assistance I could need. Any further assistance? I thought. Some day perhaps …
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Scars
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Posted:Oct 6, 2012 8:21 am
Last Updated:Jul 4, 2017 1:44 pm
5626 Views
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Roger has been monopolizing our blog and I thought it was time to show that I existed. Not that any of you was thinking that he was a single man in disguise. To be honest, I have given him his sexual freedom back, so he may be flirting while traveling the world. I don’t mind. He is much better than words than me and I am a typical woman: I am better with body language.
I am from a small town and went to college in a big city. I was very young and very innocent at that time. Fellow students took advantage of me. There was no lie big enough that they were not ready to tell me with a straight face to get between my legs. I was their beloved one, their only one. Meanwhile, everybody was laughing behind my back about my credulity and wondered who had not yet slept with me.
Then came my true love, my only one (apologies Roger). He was strong and tall. He was from Eastern Europe. I fell madly in love with him and so I thought was he with me. He thought me to be obedient and docile. He asked me to wear the same hair do as the actress in “Blowjob” (an old porn movie about … well I guess the title is clear enough). He liked to share me with his friends, watching me giving blowjobs to them and be pleasured by several of them at once. Although I liked some of this, I was accepting all this because I thought he loved me. Little I knew that I was for him no more than a sexual pet .
I thought that getting pregnant would seal the deal. I hope that this wonderful news would make him proud, make him love me even more and that he would propose. Being a farther was, however, not what he wanted (or at least with me). It scared him instead and he dumped me, never to be seen again. Alone, I had little choice than abort and the bottle became my best friend. Was I such a bad and naughty girl? If so, I think I have paid dearly.
Roger came along. He was sweet, innocent, and gentle. He never asked any questions about my past. He accepted me as I was with all my scars and shadowy past. We married and build a family. He is not always the best lover (sorry again, Roger) and I sometimes regret the hot nights of sex where men would come one after the other to please me. Although I far preferred to play one-to-one, they often couldn’t wait and I had to accept being serviced by several at the time.
Roger is now going down a new road for him, but a road too familiar for me. He looks at the beautiful landscapes and the nice people. I remember my scars and am afraid to see some ghost from my past suddenly emerge. Sex for him is about sharing, about respect, about trust. Sex is still for me too often about humiliation, submission, and cheating. How can I tell him, without telling him about my past? How can I tell him without letting him know all the things I have accepted to do? How can I tell him and keep him as innocent, nice, and in love with me?
I am not so innocent after all.
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Do you want me to join you?
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Posted:Sep 29, 2012 1:01 pm
Last Updated:Sep 30, 2012 2:38 pm
5386 Views
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“Do you want me to join you?” asked Vicky.
I was heading out for an exhibit. An on-premise swinger club in the Washington DC area had asked me to show my nude pictures and little did I know in those days what an on-premise event was about. My brain raced to find an answer and finally my lips uttered some words.
“Darling, I have no idea where I am actually going. I am not quite sure it is the usual type of gallery. You probably should just stay home.”
Sometimes one should just cut off one’s tongue and stitch one’s lips together to avoid saying stupid things that one will regret. This is exactly what happened to me that night. Just a couple of hours later, I would be biting dearly my lips for not having brought my wonderful wife with me.
I had displayed my pictures and couples were strolling before my stand. I had seldom seen so many handsome couples. They congratulated me on my work and about the choice of my models, inquired whether I would agree to have a private photography session with them. Many women teased me, while their husbands were looking at my nudes, whispering in my ear that they were not wearing anything under their dresses. Half way through the evening I was encouraged to leave my stand and walk around. My legs needed some stretching and I executed myself happily. That’s when I started to bite my lips.
A handsome couple invited me to join them on a couch. I sat between them. Claudia had beautiful eyes short hair, and slim long legs tightly fitted in a black pair of pants. Her blouse was equally tight, revealing the nice and firm curves of her breasts.
“I love your work” she said. “The light is wonderful and your models are gorgeous”.
“Thanks” I muttered.
"By chance, have you any other pieces of art that you have not displayed tonight?” she inquired, her fingers leaving her side and approaching my thigh. The gentle touch of her fingers arose me.
“I thought I had brought everything out, but please feel free to examine anything that may interest you.”
Claudia smiled and her fingers quickly freed my manlihood, that by now was straight and hard.
“All my works are now on display”, I observed.
“Indeed”, she replied, her soft fingers starting to caress me.
”I encourage you to touch any piece of work that might interest you and closely examine it. My ’ satisfaction is the most important.”
“I admire your perspective on business. So many long indeed to be satisfied.”
Her fingers were now playing with me, climbing up my manly spear, caressing its top, running down and cupping its stem. Leaving her the initiative and wondering up to where she would dare to go was an exciting experience. I turned my eyes to her husband. Watching, he encouraged us with a smile.
I then realized what on on-premise event was. Claudia slipped from the coach and installed herself between my legs. She took me slowly between her lips. The delicious warmth of her mouth surrounded me in an instant and I felt her soft tongue playing with my tip.
Couples had noticed by now our game. They strolled by to have a look, smiled at me. Her husband was caressing Claudia’s short hair, while her hands had slipped under my shirt and were caressing my torso. She was now sucking hard on me, letting me enter deep into her throat. Being watched while being treated so nicely was too much and, unfortunately, I could not contain myself any longer. I freed myself between these wonderful lips and Claudia drank every sip of me.
The night had now really begun. Wherever I turned my eyes, I saw couples playing the sweet games of love. Several couples had dropped their clothes, and had mingled on a large central bed. Naked firm breasts were being gently caressed, tits being slowly hardened, lips being softly kissed.
“Do you want me to join you?” had asked Vicky. ”Yes, yes, yes, of course I want you to join me” my brain finally concluded, but far too late. How could I join the party without my wife? This would have been being untruthful to her. Miserable, I spent the rest of the night watching the most beautiful people I had ever met, imagining Vicky’s naked body among the crowd, wondering whether she would have liked to be caressed by this man or cajoled by this woman.
To date, I am still having dreams of what that night could have been, if only I had said yes to my wife.
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Guess what I am wearing under my dress?
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Posted:Sep 23, 2012 3:04 pm
Last Updated:Sep 29, 2012 8:38 am
5348 Views
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“Guess what I am wearing under my dress?” whispered Vicky. She had her mischievous smile. We were just about to get out of our car to feast our wedding anniversary in a nice restaurant. I probably mumbled something unintelligible, so she carried on.
“It is our wedding anniversary, so I thought I would wear something special.”
My eyes drifted southwards. She was wearing a tight short back dress, nicely fitting her breasts. I moved my hand up her knee, up her thigh.
“Tut tut, you are cheating.” She giggled. “No touching … for the moment.”
As I was not answering her question, she continued.
“I was thinking about getting some special lingerie. A tiny string? Something in lace? But I could not find anything that I liked, that you would like, and that fitted me. So … I decided to just wear … nothing”. She nibbled my ear as she spoke these last words.
“I am absolutely naked under my dress”, she smiled. “Shall we go and eat something?” she teased.
Eat something? I surely knew what I wanted to eat right now: lift her short dress and burry my tongue between these warm thighs! But this needed to wait until later: Vicky had jumped out of the car and was waiting on the sidewalk.
We entered into the restaurant and got seated. I could not get rid of the image of Vicky’s naked body. Just beneath this tin black cloth, her plum breasts, her smooth belly, and her wonderful intimacy were there for the grab.
We ordered some drinks and opened our menus. I could not resist anymore. I freed a foot from my shoe and started caressing her leg. Vicky smiled. Encouraged, I made an even bolder move: I started to introduce my toes high between her legs.
“Here?” she whispered. “With all these people around us?”
I wanted her and the presence of all the people in the restaurant was just turning me on even more. Images of pushing Vicky on the table, lifting her dress, and introducing myself into her sprung into my mind.
The waitress served our drinks. “Are you ready to order” she inquired. She was pretty, with long black hair, wonderful green eyes, and generous breasts under her tight white shirt.
“I think we would need some couple of more minutes” Vicky smiled.
The waitress smiled back in a strange fashion. “Of course”, she answered and turning her nice smile to me. “Just take you time”.
“Did she notice?” I panicked.
“Are you suddenly scared?” Vicky shot back.
Up went my toes for their frontal attack. They climbed and caressed without resistance, to finally enter her most secret place. Vicky was warm and humid. My toes played in her. She took her glass to her lips and closed her eyes. To anybody from the outside, she seemed to enjoy a sip of her drink. To me, I knew I was bringing her to a most pleasurable place. A few more strokes and she parted her lips, letting out a gentle moan.
When Vicky opened her eyes, the pretty waitress was waiting. Had she unbuttoned her shirt? I hadn’t noticed her wonderful cleavage before.
“I hope you enjoyed it”, she smiled looking at Vicky’s glass.
“Very much” Vicky slowly replied.
We ordered and watched the waitress walk away.
“She definitely noticed” Vicky whispered.
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The Chocolate Woman
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Posted:Sep 8, 2012 3:49 pm
Last Updated:Sep 23, 2012 3:12 pm
5517 Views
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Virginia, like Washington DC, has its hidden treasures, as Vicky and I discovered one night …
Vicky was accompanying me that evening to one of my art exhibits. A couple of friends had set up a show in Virginia and had asked me to bring a few of my fine art nude pictures.
Vicky was a bit moody, having to help me carry my stuff, and had mixed feelings about the outing. It is not that she doesn’t like art, it is that one could wonder whether what some of the stuff my friends put on the wall can honestly be qualified – even very broadly – as art.
A couple of hours later, the art was on the wall, we all had a glass in our hand, and some man was reciting what he thought was poetry, when suddenly a young woman, wearing only a string, stepped in the room. She was gorgeous: blond, long legs, and a wonderful pair of firm breasts. What was even more surprising than seeing a naked woman walking in was that she was covered in … chocolate!
The man reciting “poetry” stopped and the organizer of the show announced that we were now taking part in a live art creation and destruction, an art happening. The audience was encouraged to lick the nude woman free of her chocolate, representing the corruption of our world hiding our inner beauty (or something along these lines).
We all looked at each other, exchanging timid and surprised glances. “Let’s go” Vicky whispered. She approached the nude woman and started licking one of her breasts. Watching my wife’s little pink tongue cleaning the woman’s hard tit turned me on. I could have stood where I was for an eternity, watching this exciting scene.
I decided, however, that I wanted also a piece of the action and joined my wife, before the other people of the audience could move. I took the second breast and started to lick the sweat chocolate off her soft skin. I felt her hard nipple under my tongue and heard her gently moan.
The other people joined us and very rapidly, her body was covered by dozens of eager tongues, licking the chocolate she had melted over her body. She started to turn slowly, so everyone could have a go at her wonderful breasts, while Vicky and I could discover other parts of her smooth body.
When all was done, Vicky turned to me smiling, licking still some chocolate off her lips. “I am sorry for all I may have said and thought, but I definitely like your friends' art”.
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Body painting in Georgetown
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Posted:Sep 8, 2012 1:26 pm
Last Updated:Sep 8, 2012 4:14 pm
5543 Views
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Georgetown, Washington DC, has a few gems for the erotically inclined. One of them is a small art gallery, hidden away, near the canal, managed by Dave, a joyful old man. They regularly put up erotic exhibits and body painting events. Vicky and I attended a few, but she never dared to cross the line: watching nude women being painted was fine, but being one of them? Never. That is until that one special evening.
We started off with a nice dinner. Making the stomach happy seems to be the first step towards other bodily pleasures. We then strolled down the canal and into Dave’s art gallery. As usual, he had a tasteful fine art exhibit on the walls, nice wine hidden under the counter, and a few brushes and pots of paint displayed at the back of his gallery.
A couple was already at work. He was busy covering her large breasts with generous strokes of bright paint. Other couples were walking around, an eye on the fine art nudes on the walls, another on the painting couple.
Our eyes crossed those of another couple. She wore a black long dress with a deep cleavage that kept men dreaming in her wake. He was handsome, fit, with a muscular torso. We smiled and chatted a bit. The woman looked at Vicky, eyeing the painter and his model. “Ever tried?” she whispered. “Heard that the paint deliciously pinches your skin when it dries”. These were the magic words.
Truth or Dare? Or rather Dare or Dare? Vicky looked at me. “Let’s do it” she whispered. Before I could gather my senses, Vicky had already unzipped her dress, let it slip on the floor, and was standing waiting near the paints. She was wearing that evening a string and a bra, both black.
Smiling mischievously, Vicky unclipped her bra that fell slowly to the floor. Besides her string and a pair of long heels, she was now totally nude. She folded her arms behind her head. “Paint me, darling” she cried.
Tania, the cleavage lady, was not far behind. She had unbuttoned her dress and revealed what had hardly been hidden by her dress: two generous and lovely breasts, firm and round, with large pinkish tits. She too had little else under her dress. The crowd grew suddenly thicker.
I grabbed a brush and wondered what to do with it, watching my co-worker looking as lost as me. “You may want to swap your places, Roger. This makes it more fun.” Dave whispered. These words made me hard instantaneously. Watching Vicky being painted by another man, while I was fuddling with another pair of breasts sounded exciting. Vicky and Tania giggled. OK, let’s do it.
I changed position, dipping my brush in paint and starting to cover Tina’s breasts. I made her tits red, hardening them as I was working. She was looking at me, smiling at every stroke. Was it her first time? Was I doing it right? I glanced at Vicky: she was getting a green leafy coverage.
I opted for flames growing from Tina’s belly to her breasts, bright red, orange, and yellow strokes reflecting the fire that was spreading into me. How I wished I could throw these brushes away, grab her plum breasts, and kiss her neck. How I craved for a nibble at her tits and an entrance to her bush. She seemed to be the type of woman who would not mind.
In the midst of my dreams and work, I suddenly seemed to hear a familiar sound. Vicky had closed her eyes, biting her lips. Tina’s companion had put painting aside and had discovered how to bring Vicky to some pleasurable place by striking her breasts with different brushes. Some softer. Others harder.
Almost nude, surrounded and watched by a crowd in the middle of this art gallery in Georgetown, my Vicky was drifting away stroke by stroke. She was running her fingers in the painter’s hair, and I felt her breading hasten, as he left her breasts and directed his magic brushes to other parts of her body. An instant later, she was moaning, carried away by most pleasurable waves.
When all was finished, she opened her eyes, looked at me and whispered “I LOVE painting”.
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Skye
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Posted:Aug 30, 2012 1:05 pm
Last Updated:May 17, 2014 12:38 pm
5452 Views
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Skype is great! I love it! But it may quickly get out of hand …
I travel a lot for business and thus use Skype to chat with Vicky. Unfortunately, if the connection is up to speed, then the equipment (headsets, speaker or camera) may be faulty. This is what happened once in the midst of a meeting.
I had entered a meeting with new in their nice conference room. I had prepared my Power Point on all the goodies that my company could offer and, since the wouldn’t provide a laptop for the projection, I had plugged mine in their system. My slides would be projected on their new huge plasma screen. Pretty cool.
We dimmed the lights and I had hardly started, when a Skype message from Vicky pops up on the screen. Before I could do anything, her smiling face appears. I noticed that my own camera was not functioning and she had me (or rather us) only on audio.
I glanced at the speakerphone, checking its green light. “Sorry, darling, but I am in a meeting. Will call you later”, I tried to say.
“Darling, thanks for these wonderful flowers”, she smiled back. I had sent her a huge bouquet of roses for her concert a few days ago. “They were so wonderful that I thought they deserved a very special little something” she continued.
I checked again the green light on the speakerphone. “Darling, I am in a meeting. Will call you later”, I repeated, glancing at my . They didn’t seem very happy with this domestic exchange. I had not properly started my presentation and I was losing them already. I sweated. But then came the real panic.
Vicky moved her fingers to the top buttons of her blouse and started working on them. What was she doing? The first button was undone. The second button was undone. At the third, she lifted her eyes to the camera with a naughty smile. No. she would not dare. Not now.
I turned a panicky eye to my . All males, smiling now. Their boss stretched his arm and slapped the speakerphone shut. The red light appeared. “We won’t need this. Won’t we, Roger? We don’t want to interrupt the Misses” he smiled.
I turned my eyes back to the large screen. A few other buttons had been defeated and the opening of Vicky’s shirt displayed now her black lace bra. She had started to whistle a little tune and at the end of it let her unbuttoned shirt drop on the floor.
Her fingers went up in her hair and down, slowly down, her throat. Her hands cupped her breasts, still held in their prison of black lace. Her tongue went over her lips and I became hard as iron. Probably my too. I was too panicked to do anything. What could I have done anyway?
Vicky’s hands disappeared behind her back. My throat went dry. We were approaching the end of the scene. Weren’t we? I wanted to close my eyes, but I could not. I knew the sweetness of the breasts that would soon appear on the large screen. But yet I could not detach my eyes from her.
Sharing this moment. Sharing these breasts with others made them different, new. From the noises and comments of my , I was seeing Vicky anew. I was rediscovering the softness of her neck, the sexiness of her lips, the naughtiness of her eyes. In a few seconds, I would rediscover the fullness of her breasts.
And suddenly there they were. In a smooth motion the bra vanished, releasing two gorgeous breasts, firm. Her tits were hard and erect, ready to be kissed. To make matters worse, Vicky’s fingers were playing with them, her eyes on the camera.
The image then disappeared and all we remained silent.
“Roger, don’t bother showing us your Power Point” grumbled the boss.
I closed my eyes. I was dead.
“If you managed to marry and keep a hottie like that, you mustn’t be all the bad. I think we can do business together.”
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A St Valentine’s massage
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Posted:Aug 21, 2012 12:16 pm
Last Updated:Aug 28, 2012 6:27 am
2428 Views
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I heard the door open and Vicky’s peppy voice, “I am back, darling”.
I had offered her a massage for her St Valentine. I had scheduled the appointment, paid in advance, so she only had to show up this morning and be pampered.
“So how was it?” I inquired
“Most pleasurable” she whispered, kissing me.
“Most pleasurable? That’s it? No more details?”
“After some hesitation, I picked the masseur” she smiled.
“The masseur? A man? I thought you preferred being touched by a woman?” The thought of my wife being caressed naked, sorry massaged, by another man flashed before my eyes.
“Well, I changed my mind. What do you want me to say? I felt this morning like being touched by two sturdy hands”.
“You were naked?”
“Of course, darling, I was naked. But he was very gentle. Broad shoulders. Nice pecs. Dazzling smile. Are you suddenly jealous?” she giggled.
What could I answer? Of course I was not jealous. I was envious and disappointed by having missed the show. Images of my wife’s flexible naked body being massaged in different positions lingered this time in my mind.
“He was very gentle, massaging me with sensual oils. He started with my toes, climbed slowly up my thighs, stayed a bit on my belly to concentrate then on my breasts. My towel slipped then on the floor. From then on, I was naked, stretched on the table, defenseless.”
“And then?” I swallowed.
“I felt the warmth of his large hands cupping my breasts, pitching my tits that hardened very quickly. I was becoming excited and he probably noticed it. Although my eyes were shut, I felt his eyes on my body, moving down from my lips, to my tits, to my bush. One second, my hands wanted to cover the intimacy of my body. The next, they were daggling powerless on each side, my body overcome by waves of wonderful warmth” she sighed.
“And then?” I asked, while I was unzipping her dress, letting it slip on the floor, and admiring the soft and naked curves it revealed.
He turned me over and worked on my neck, my shoulders, and my back. My tensions were disappearing, melting under the sun of his strong hands. He pulled then my hips up, gently, and entered me with his soft fingers. One, two, then three. Deep and slowly.
“And then?” I gasped, caressing her firm breasts.
“And then, darling, some things are better left unsaid."
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Skinny Dipping in South of France
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Posted:Aug 20, 2012 2:47 pm
Last Updated:Jun 22, 2013 12:44 pm
2797 Views
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The night was warm. Vicky and I were strolling back to our hotel. We had decided to spend a few days in the South of France to enjoy the sun, the good food, and the nightlife. We had been clubbing a bit that night and our cloths were sticking to our bodies.
We passed by our hotel outdoor pool, and admired its calm water and listened to the silence: a striking difference with the activity during the day. Vicky glanced at me, smiling. What was she thinking? I didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
Vicky’s slim fingers quickly worked the zip of her dress. It slipped silently to her feet, unveiling her nude curves. She wasn’t wearing any undies that night!
“Come on, coward” she whispered. “The water is calling”.
I felt her hardening nipples pressing against my shirt. I glanced up, at all these balconies above us. Are they all asleep? Is anybody watching us from the dark of their room? I must confess that the last thought excited me.
I felt Vicky’s fingers freeing my manhood. Her fingers ran along it and soon I was up and straight, ready to conquer the world. That was it! I made my move and unbuttoned my shirt as quickly as I could, while kissing the lips of this wonderful and naughty woman who accepted to be my wife.
She slipped into the water, while I was still fighting with my pants. Why can’t men wear skirts? This would make some business much easier. I watched her slim body cruising through the pool and hastened to join her.
The water was indeed refreshing, cool but yet still warm from the day’s sun. I felt the water glide over my naked body, twirling around my erect mast. A few strokes later, I was with Vicky. Her skin was shinning under the starry night. Her breasts were hard, ripe for the sucking and picking.
My hands ran over her soft, wet skin, caressing her thighs, her breasts, while she was smiling naughtily. I pressed my lips against hers, feeling her hard tits against my chest. My hand ran between her thighs, exploring her welcoming bush, while hers were working on my little me. Should I take her here, in the pool? Vicky was hot and would probably not have minded.
My thoughts and desires were, however, stopped in their tracks. Vicky’s eyes suddenly widened and I turned my head to the hotel. “Crap, security!” I let go, as a large fellow in a uniform made his way to us.
What are you supposed to do in such situations? Should we wait in the pool and pretend we had our swimming trucks on? Should we jump out, grab our cloths, and run away? Should Vicky offer him some affectionate compensation? Seconds seemed like hours, as the security guard approached.
“Madam, sir. Nice evening for a dip indeed. Would you need any towels?”
“Sure” I stammered.”How kind of you”.
As the guard turned to fetch the towels, Vicky’s fingers made their way back to my little me, that was not so little by now.
“Darling, I LOVE Cap d’Agde” she whispered.
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