So, I say, she’s already naked. She’s shaking her hips, drinking from both glasses at once just to be goofy, spilling some down around her cleavage. Carlos dances with her. He’s still in his swim trunks, his neck decorated with my wife’s undone bikini top. Who knows where her bottoms ended up, they’re not around anywhere. How long ago had she taken them off?
My wife has this habit when she dresses that she puts on her bra first, then her underwear. Similarly, when she undresses for the night, the bra is the last item she removes. I didn’t discover this behavior till we were married, and it’s always amused me. I work it into the backstory: Perhaps they have played a game, and Carlos and O’Kelly have won. My wife is tipsy and happy. She lost her bottoms; she lost her top. She likes that she lost, losing provided her the rationale she needed to kickstart this risqué adventure.
Still driving down the road, I decide I simply must share this with her. First chance I get I’ll write it all down. She’ll think it’s fun. Personally, I’m now hoping to get a blowjob out of it. Fantasies within fantasies.
Let’s say O’Kelly is the quiet man, and the gregarious Carlos takes the lead. He takes a shot of tequila, presses a lime to his lips, then grasps my wife about her moving hips and leans in to kiss her. Carlos is good looking and well built. He is an easy man to kiss. His will is strong, and my wife puts up only a token defense. Carlos knows what he’s doing, and after relaxing into his kiss, my wife knew she would give him whatever he asked.
She collapses into the strength of his kiss, and the grip of his embrace, but then, in hunger, she kisses back. Carlos is too slow, too romantic, and my wife has strong lips of her own. She kisses him boldly, and they massage their lips together in larger and larger circles.
But then, from behind, O’Kelly has reached out and begun to kiss the back of her neck. Surprised at first, she tilts her head back. Carlos rises above her, his lips still pressed against hers, he kisses now with the advantage, and my wife submits to his lead. Her knees buckle a little, and she leans back against O’Kelly, who supports her while running his tongue around the vertebrae of her neck. Carlos presses her into a sandwich. She feels compressed, out of control but contained.
They haven’t touched her sex yet, but she is wet. Her hands drift down Carlos’s body, stopping at his waistband. She began to think: “Why do they still wear clothes? Don’t they know I’d suck their cocks?”
This thought surprised her though–sucking cock–sucking two cocks! At the same time? She must be drunk. She must be exceptionally horny. She felt itchy to be naughty. “I might even take it up the butt,” she thought, something she’s never done before, even with me. She grew excited when she realized she was about to have her first threesome. Then, for the first time, she thought of me. “He’ll be so impressed with me…if he’s not too jealous!”
Hands ran across her bosom, lifting her breasts, cupping, massaging. She couldn’t tell whose hands they were, but I know first hand her tits are generous and tasty. I love watching her play with them in front of me; I love it when she flashes me. But until you’ve played with her tits yourself you can’t know how damn arousing they are.