At the kitchen table....

A friend of mine said she liked my blog because I didn’tfeel compelled to talk about sex all the time. Well, she may want to skip this post.

At the kitchen table, just 12 paces away (I chacked, and we have a small house) sits my wife and her best friend.  I’ve been banished tothe office to “work”, “watch Jon Stewart” and “update my resume.”  But when those words come out of my wife’s mouth, all I hear is “Wank”,“watch porn”, and “update Tumblr”

Sitting next to her is her best friend, one of them, at least, and by far the prettiest.  No, not the prettiest.  Cindy is pretty, Jane is sexy.  She is slim, exotic, beautiful brown eyes, a tight little ass, surgically enhanced breasts (that didn’t need it in the first place), and short cropped hair, just right for the pulling.  As they sit and talk, I am on the phone witha friend, guiding her as she drives, not with direction, for she knows the way to Target quite well enough, but with instructions. 

     She is driving a quiet road, little traffic, and my instructions are clear.     
     What are you wearing?
     Jeans, lime green panties, black t-shirt, white bra, you know, the one with the front hook.
     Unclasp your bra and play with your left nipple
     She gasps and moans as I lead her to touch and pinch and pull, then caress
     Make a fist with your free hand,and with the fist, begin tapping your clit through your jeans
     What the fuck?
     Do it.
     I can hear her breathingchange as she obeys. 
     Roll down the window
     She complies and the sounds ofthe street add to her voice as her rhythmic pounding continue
     Harder
     Oh, oh, oh, her voice tightens
     Harder!
      Oh God, oh fuck….Please, please, please…..
     Please what?  You know I hate incomplete questions
     Oh god, please, please may I cum, I’m so wet, I’m so…. Please Master.
     HARDER! 

I can almost hear her fist hitting against her swollen clit, trapped within her damp jeans, wrapped up in almost translucent cotton as her panties absorb as much as they can.
     Who is your Master?
     You are.
     Who is my slut?
     I am.
     Then you may cum.

Her voice fills the car and rolls out her window on to the street.  A passerby from across the street looks her way and they make eye contact.  She laughs and moans as her orgasm spreads and soaks her.  I can hear it in her voice that she is not finished.

     How long until Target?
     I can see it.
     Park, quickly.
     Tell me about her, the friend
     You want to hear my fantasy about another woman?
     Yes Master, I want to hear it.

She’s 5’4”, 5”8 in her high heeled boots.  Snooty, an arrogant air about her, but fun, and flirty, and a fan of mine. She always talks to me, conversations full of hints and allegations, but no plans.  We talk for 10, 15 minutes before she even asks to talk to my wife, and then I get the look, the “why were you talking to her for so long?” look.  I just laugh and hand over the phone.

     So, you want me to tell you how I’m going to fuck her?
     Yes Master, tell me.
     And what will you be doing while you listen?
     I’ve parked, I’m secluded.  May I touch myself?
     You may touch yourself.  Good girl.

Jane is in jeans, high heeled boots, a green shirt, and brown leather jacket. Very cute.  Her jeans are tight and they highlight her slender hips. Over lunch they laugh until I hear the phone ring.  My wife takes it, greeting the head of the student association on the phone and she makes her apologies and steps in to the back room to take the call.

I walk out and greet her.  The boy, her son, plays blissfully in the yard.  I stand close to her, too close as she sits at the table eating her burrito, and she asks how long my wife will be on the phone. 

“20 minutes, at least.  There was a problem at the school today.  They will be a while.”

“OK”

My hand drifts to her shoulder, to her collar bone, and then down her blouse, cupping her right breast in my hand and finding the nipple through the thin fabric of her bra.  It is firm, and tight, and I roll in in my fingers, making it grow.  She shifts and I reciprocate and my hand is on bare skin, cupping her, feeling the weight as she stifles a gasp.

“20 minutes?  Are you sure?”

“18 now.  Don’t waste my time.”

She unbuttons to give me better access and turns to face me, quickly unzipping my jeans and freeing my cock from inside my boxer shorts.  Her mouth is warm and tight as she envelopes me.

     Oh fuck yes (my phone friend responds). 
     All the while I hear her gasping and touching as she has permission.

Her small mouth is heaven around me as I begin to move in and out.  With the clock ticking in my head. I debate what to do next, but the answer comes quickly.

I take her by the hand and move in to the living room.  My wife's voice is muffled through the bedroom door and I pause to make sure the conversation is still in full swing.  Jane is already unbuttoning her jeans and I kneel in front of her and slip them down.  I reach past the couch and open the windows and then do the same behind the TV.  The open windows force her to be quiet, and the cross-breeze will carry the fragrance of our coupling outside.  Stacks of folded laundry remain on the floor from the previous night and I grab a gym towel and lay it over the arm rest.  I turn her around and pull her jeans over her hips and down to her thighs.  Small expensive panties barely cover her and
the wet spot is evident and makes me smile.

Pulling it aside I devour her.

     Oh GOD!  She screams over the phone.  Please, please, please.......
     Not yet, I want your fingers in deep, that's what you wanted, right?
     To be fucked in the parking lot like a little slut?
     Yes, Yes, Yes... please master, Please let me cum.
     Not yet.

Jane's wetness drips and I am thankful for the towel's protection.  The new couches don't need to be stained, yet.  I pull her cheeks open and taste her from front to back, coating her with our shared juices as she jogs in place to get her pants over her knees and to the floor.  I pull her boots off and she reaches back to replace my tongue with her fingers, holding herself wide for me, playing with herself, keeping the momentum building.

     Please, please....
     I can hear her voice changing from playful obedience to genuine need. 
     She reaches a point when we play where want becomes pain if I don't release her.
     Spread it wide for me!
     YES!
     DEEPER FOR ME!
     Yes, fuck, yes. please, please please.

My fantasy is becoming reality for her as her orgasm builds in the Target parking lot. 

     Where should I cum?  I ask, allowing her to finish the fantasy for me.  Where?
     In my pussy, cum in her pussy Master.

I stand behind Jane and place my hand on her head and press her down over the arm of the sofa.  Her body is offered in fevered need and I slide inside with a single stroke.

     As I share my fantasy my phone explodes with her voice and
     I know without a doubt that she is under my hand and all mine.

The rest of the fantasy is lost in her screaming as I sit quietly at my desk, listening to Jane's laugh as my wife says something funny.

The panting on the other end of the phone thrills me, and I smile, and wish her happy shopping.

We hang up, I stroll in to the kitchen, wondering if Jane will see just how glad I am to see her.