' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

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Bertram W Bronson
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' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by Bertram W Bronson » Sat Nov 19, 2011 5:07 pm

“Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

The continuation of another shy wife story by: Bertram W. Bronson

Part 2… {{{Ohhh Bobby, I'd be so scared}}}

I remember it so vividly, how it began on a Sunday night, whispering fantasies in our bed, making love, my wife's up-slanted hips swiveling and twisting under the tangled bed sheet, her little shrieks and cries ongoing until nearly midnight:

Finally exhausted, Megan’s pretty face was flushed; her long blonde hair lay in a golden tousle across her bed pillow. I rolled aside, my softening wet penis sliding smoothly out of her slippery warmth, then watching the familiar ritual… my wife reaching into the bookcase headboard of our bed, those dainty fingers plucking a couple of tissues from the box and tucking them between her thighs, lowering her knees and smoothing down her rumpled nightie. She slipped her toes under the tangled sheet and pulled it up to her dimpled chin. Still a little breathy, Megan turned her head, those wondrous deep blue eyes looking up into mine.

“Ohh darling,” she softly murmured, “I love the feeling of ‘doing it,’ ohhh, I could lie on my back and swim in that warm feeling forever and ever.”

Married almost two years and she loved it more and more each time, the feeling of being on her back with her knees up, the feeling of a rigid penis sliding through the tissues her warm slippery vagina, the intensity seeming to grow with every passing month. I turned toward her, sharing her pillow, closing my eyes, snuggling my face into softness of her hair.

The warm scent of her drifted into my nostrils and I could feel the tickle of her hair against my face, feel her breathing, her breasts rising and falling under the bed sheet. “Darling,” she murmured again, “it excites me when we whisper things in bed, when we make love and pretend about… well, about ‘other’ guys, but I can't imagine a husband really letting another man see his wife naked, and then… actually doing it. Ohhh Bobby, it seems so unreal.”

“Megan, it happens… couples are doing it.”

“Well, talking naughty in bed is one thing, but getting naked in a swimming pool with other people? Ohhh Bobby, you can’t be serious… and who invited us to this… this pool party?”

“Meg, you remember meeting Bert Bronson at the tennis club?”

“Of course I remember… and I also remember you couldn't keep your eyes off his wife. I thought your eyes were gonna pop out of your darn head.”

“Oh c’mon Megan… that’s a bit of an exaggeration! Anyway, what was I supposed to do, just stare down at her toes like a shy wimp?”

She giggled, opening the way for me to take the conversation back to where it was an hour ago. I slipped my elbow under the back of her neck, she shifted, settling her lovely head onto the crook of my arm, I waited a moment…

“Sweetheart,” I whispered into the silky softness of her hair, “Bert and Wendy have a place up on Mulholland Drive… they’ve got this large hill-top home, a tennis court, a swimming pool and Saturday night they’re having… well, sort of a get-together, like an open house where only very special friends drop-in.”

“But Bobby, you said they swim naked… and do things, like touch each other’s wives?”

Shifting into stall mode… I'm thinking what to say as I slipped my hand under the sheet and rested my palm on her warm stomach, just above the rise of her pubic bone. Under the thin nighty, I could feel the wedge of curly hair and sweetly rounded curve of her belly, a snug belly, one where no other guy’s cock had ever been. Letting my fingers rest on the curvature of her warm stomach, I thought of another guy’s rigid cock in there… thrusting deep into the pit of her belly. Subconsciously, my thoughts drifting, I pressed my palm a little more firmly against my wife's flat stomach and I could almost feel the swollen head of a long slippery prick thumping up against the palm of my hand. A slight flush of heat warmed my face, even as a shivery tickle ran up my spine. But under my palm there was only the slow rise and fall of her breathing and I could see her dark lashes blinking, still looking up at me and waiting for a response.

“Mmm,” I finally mumbled. “Some couples, sort of swap off… I guess.”

“So you didn't say we’d go… certainly you didn't agree to… to go to a party like that!”

“Well sort of,” I stammered… “Honey, I just said we’d drop in and say hello.”

“Ohhh Bob… you didn't? Ohhh my God, why would you agree to… to even drop in?”

She clicked off the bed lamp with a little sigh of exasperation… you know the sound, that little pouty outburst of breath as they roll over and turn their backs… the way they curl up in a darkened bed and slant their warm asses back toward you, almost daring you to lay a hand on their hip. I let a few moments pass in silence, eased my head back onto her pillow, pressed my face against her silky hair and cuddled up against her warm rump. Then, from out of the darkness, and muffled by her pillow…

“…a real stupid idea Bobby, real real stupid, and I won't go!”

But it wasn’t long before I heard her breathing slow… sleep gradually taking her away.

The next day passed quietly as Megan quick-stepped around the house, from time-to-time tossing over-the-shoulder glances at me. Another night… and I awoke to see early morning sunlight slanting through the window blinds and a pair of wide open, big blue eyes staring silently at me from across her pillow. For what seemed the longest of moments we stared into each other’s eyes, until her long dark lashes slowly lowered and I felt her wiggling toward me under the blankets… the warm smoothness of her upper knee sliding between my thighs… the humid warmth of her bare crotch pressing against the front of my thigh. Megan’s pretty face snuggled into the side of my neck, warm lips… the tip of her wet tongue against my skin, “fuck me,” she murmured, ”fuck me fast and hard…”

So as the weekend neared, was she anxious and apprehensive, but was she curious?

Yeah, curious big time! And as the idea settled in, suddenly a little frantic in bed, whispering questions, sharp nails digging into my back, her breathy panting a little more intense! “Ohhh Bobby, I'd be so nervous being… being naked near other men. Ohh my, what if one of them tried to… to touch me?”

******
Early Saturday morning, sitting in our tiny breakfast nook with her pearly white teeth nibbling at a bacon strip, she kept glancing at me and then looking away. Under the glass-top table I could see her robe parted half-way up her smooth bare thighs and I could see her crossing her long sleek legs and bouncing her toes. From time-to-time, I noticed a little hip movement, a subconscious squirming of her sweetly rounded ass. “Bobby,” she finally murmured…

“Do you still want to go to… to Bert’s house tonight?”

“Do you?”

“Mmm,” she blushed, “maybe, if… well if you want to.”

Her pretty face flushed and a pair of big blue eyes flashed a guilty look across the breakfast table. She’d been hot in bed last night, skinning out of her panties, kicking them down between the bed sheets. I remembered how she rolled onto her back, hunching her hips to get the bottom of her nighty up under her bare buttocks, then dropping back, her knees drifting apart. Her snug vagina had been especially slick and warm; up-turned hips swiveling, her first belly clenching orgasm only a dozen penis thrusts away, and a couple more soon followed.

This morning, naked under the robe, she crossed those long legs again, one smooth leg lifting over the other with just a shadowy glimpse of pussy hairs. Lashes lowered, she held her deep blue eyes down at the table, staring at the Starbucks coffee cup clasped in her slender fingers.

I heard a slow intake of breath, then, with dark lashes still lowered… the hesitant admission.

“Honey, yesterday, I called my sister to see if she could babysit, just… well, just in case ‘you’ wanted to go,” she softly murmured. The blush deepened on her pretty cheeks, she looked up and quickly added. “But I won't get undressed… or anything silly like that!”

With that stipulation firmly in place, she decided we should just ‘drop in’ for a quick visit, but not to party… ohh no, just to satisfy some little tingle of curiosity.

******
Sultry and humid, the Saturday night sky hovered above the rolling foothills like an omen and by the time we dropped our one-year-old off with Megan’s sister, a touch of anxiety was already creeping into the pit of our stomachs. But still, with my pretty wife at my side, I wound my way up through the steep walls of Laurel Canyon. As we passed by the ruins of the old Houdini mansion, obscuring stands of tall eucalyptus trees towered over the roadside and I felt nervous fingers reaching for my hand. Nearing the crest, the trees thinned and the dark sky opened into a blaze of stars and I slowed for the left turn; Megan squeezed my hand and murmured…

“Remember Bobby… we’re just gonna look around and then come home.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled. Catching the green light, I turned west onto Mulholland Drive… “Maybe go for a swim, have a bite to eat and come home.”

“But, but, we didn't bring any… and suits.”

“Meg, it’ll be kinda dark…”

“Ohhh Bob,” she whimpered… “What are you getting us into?”

Rolling westward along the twisty ridge top road, Megan’s lovely blonde head is resting on my shoulder and I'm wondering… how would I feel, seeing my shy young wife nude with some good-looking young guy… both bare-ass-naked in a warm swimming pool, standing hip-deep in the water, maybe kissing with the pink nipples of her bare breasts pressing against his muscular chest… her tender nipples warmly puckered from rubbing against his wet skin?

I glanced aside, my pretty wife was sitting there, dimpled knees clasped and looking so prim and proper. Impossible, I mused, not my wife… not little ‘Miss Tight-Ass.’ Oh yeah, the wives of other guys might press their naked bellies against other men, but not this shy little mother. It could never happen; not with my little darling.

A half mile passed in silence. Of course not, I assured myself. My innocent Meg is too shy to curl her naked arms around another man’s neck. She’d never stand belly-to-belly in a warm swimming pool and feel another man’s erection lengthening against the side of her bare leg… or allow it to float upward and drift into the narrow space between her naked thighs… ohh no, she’d never permit the head of his penis to snuggle up into the watery tangle of her pubic curls… just impossible…

But in the secret darkroom of my mind, the impossible picture was developing, the blurry under-water image… of a long bare penis clasped between her pinched thighs… the upper-side of a stiffened penis rubbing against her pussy hairs, the swollen head skimming along the crease of her pink slit… snug little slit parting a bit… flesh grazing flesh… his and hers.

I felt my own penis stir, fattening inside the tight leg of my trousers as the image of undulating hips grew sharper, the quick thrusts of another man’s warm turgid penis rubbing between my wife's smooth thighs, the surface of the water around their hips beginning to ripple, little circular wavelets spreading rhythmically away from their wiggling hips. I felt the emotional rush and the shivery tingle rippling out to the very tips of my fingers. Suddenly I realized my fingers had tightened around the steering wheel and a far-away voice in my mind whispered the question…

What do you suppose it would feel like, I mused… to really watch another man ‘do my wife’… actually see some good-looking young guy get her down onto her back and toss up her skirt, see him tug her panties off and ease the bare head of his penis into her curly pubic hairs… then quickly slide a long stiffened cock into my wife and vigorously fuck her right before my startled eyes?

But along with the salacious image of her skirt up around her belly button and his hips between her spread thighs, came the mathematical probability… about a one-in-a-thousand chance!

Still, with the intriguing thought looming in my mind, I let the palm of my hand settle onto Megan’s left knee… I squeezed her leg and like she’s done a hundred times, Meg loosened her knees… an instinctive invitation for a husbandly palm to ease a little higher up between her warm thighs, but this time I heard a little tremble in her voice…

“Bobby, you know we can’t stay very long. I told Sis we wouldn't be very late.”

She was already making excuses. But we were both feeling the undercurrent of a strange twisty thrill… some strange new feeling of expectation and I let my hand slide higher up between her silky warm thighs. We drove along… my palm still cupped over her left thigh… the side of my little finger resting lightly against the soft crotch of her panties.

“I couldn't really,” she murmured. “I mean, undress in front of other men.” A moment of silence, then, “Ohh Bobby, would you let them touch me… if I was naked?”

“C’mon Meg… don't be silly, no one’s gonna molest you!”

But as another mile passed, the images floated through my mind… another man slipping a finger under the loose crotch of my wife's white cotton panties, impulsively tugging the stretchy elastic aside… his eyes staring down at my wife's blondish pussy hairs… and tucked so enticingly between the cheeks of her buttocks, the exposed pink crease of my wife's vagina, so clingy soft and moist… so available to the thrust of a readied penis. My wandering mind watched the ruggedly handsome guy unzipping his pants, exposing an up-angling stiff cock, quickly pouncing between my wife's knees… pinning her down and sliding a long stiffened bare cock into the fluid warmth of her wet vagina.

Barely able to steer the car, I watched the young man hunching his hips, starting to pump the long slippery length of an engorged cock into my whimpering wife. I could barely draw a breath as I watched the ongoing and very vigorous fucking of my wife taking place right before my eyes. Suddenly, from the passenger seat, a little whisper brought me back to reality…

“Bobby, you won't leave me alone, will you… like, alone with any strange men?”

“Of course not darling, I’ll stay with you, right at your side.”

But with each passing minute, the exciting thought of getting naked and being touched by other men seemed to be creeping deeper into her mind and as we drove along the winding ridge road, I could feel the subtle shifting of Megan’s hips and the subconscious tightening and loosening of her knees, a sensual and rhythmic squeezing of my hand between her warm thighs. The side of my little finger had found its way into the humid crease in the crotch of her panties and I could feel it… the tiny nubbin of her aroused clitoris and the fluid warmth of vaginal secretions wetting through the fabric of my wife's panty crotch. It brought another raw image floating up into my mind… of female fluids glistening on a man’s stiffened cock… a lengthy slippery cock, one that’s sliding ever so smoothly in-and-out of a married woman’s belly…

Ohhh god I thought, but never in ‘my’ wife's snug little belly.

Off in the void of imagination, I barely heard the whispery sound of rubber tires on the roadway… the sound blending with a scary little whisper from the passenger seat… “Ohhh Bobby,” she whined, “I'll be too scared to really ‘do it’ with another man.”

But the point of no return lay just around the next curve, at first just a shimmering wash of light against the night sky. Suddenly the house appeared, not a house, but a luxurious three story edifice rising up from the steep hillside, and far below, the San Fernando Valley lay in a shimmering splendor of crisscrossing lights.

I slowed to a stop in front of a huge iron gate.

“Wow,” my wife gasped… “Ohhh my… is this it… is this Bert’s place?”

From inside a stone archway, a uniformed guard appeared. I rolled down my window, “Bob and Megan,” I said.

He leaned down, first flashing a light across his clipboard, then checking the empty back seat. With a discriminating glance at my pretty wife, he tipped his cap…

“Have a nice evening,” he said.

Slowly the heavy wrought iron gate rolled aside. Seconds later, it closed behind us with a resounding clunk and I felt a fresh surge of anxiety, but suddenly, a sense of security and privacy, as if what might happen behind these stone walls would always remain our secret, still, the touch of anxiety lingered and there was the feeling of Megan’s nails cutting nervously into my palm.

“Ohh Bobby, Santa Monica feels so far away, it’s like another world up here,” she whimpered, “ohhh this is so scary…”

******
We rolled to a stop on the circular driveway and before Megan could draw another nervous breath, a quick-stepping young man approached the passenger door. I hit the button and he eased the door open. He nodded his head to my wife, “good evening,” he said. While another young man waited to slide into the driver’s seat, he reached in to take my wife's hand. Megan placed her fingers on the palm of his hand and swung her slinky long legs out of the car and he lifted my anxious wife to her feet.

Only seconds later, from out of nowhere, a maid appeared, a pretty dark haired girl, greeting us and gripping Megan’s hand, she led us along a stone-paved garden path, along the border of a small grove of orange trees and around toward the rear of the huge three story house. We could see the Valley lights washing across the night sky; we heard music, the sound of talking and laughter growing louder.
As we neared the patio, the dark-haired girl dropped Megan’s hand and I saw a long-legged vision of loveliness floating out from amongst a group of mingling people… it was our hostess Wendy, approaching from across a broad iron fenced patio. Reaching out, she nodded to Meg and squeezed my hand, “welcome to our home, so nice to see you guys again.”

The grip of Wendy's hand was firm, a tennis player’s grip, but it was invitingly soft and warm against my fingers. Standing on long lovely legs, her luminous green eyes were nearly level with mine and the first real shiver of excitement rippled through me.

Across the patio our host waved his hand in welcome, Bert was standing, tending his barbeque, several people grouped around him, laughing and talking. I did a double-take, quickly looking back; there was my socially prominent Wilshire banker and his pretty wife. He was out of his usual double-breasted suit, standing in his underwear, flipping burgers with his sleeves rolled up, a drink in one hand, a spatula in the other. He waved his hand, the stuffy Harvard demeanor was missing, just a lighthearted smile on his face.

It was very casual, about three dozen obviously very carefully selected couples and a few ruggedly handsome single guys tossed into the mix, and no ruckus live band, just the sweet voice of Taylor Swift drifting out from hidden speakers. My eyes glanced around, taking notice of the preponderance of blonde female heads, obviously our host’s subtle influence on the guest list. Of course, no misfits and Hollywood freaks, so it was comforting to mingle with a sophisticated fun-loving group, people you might see at the Brentwood tennis club or dining at any fine restaurant along the Sunset Strip. But of course, couples pairing-off and nude swimming.

We wandered for a while, finally sitting under a starlit sky, watching the antics of a pool full of nude and semi-nude young people, “ohh my,” Megan whispered… “Bobby, do you recognize that face?”

Blonde heads aside, we saw the pretty auburn head of a local TV channel’s news personality bobbing around in the water, except for ear rings and a wedding band, she was naked as the day she was born. We watched her showing off her sweet ass, playing like a porpoise, diving under the water with her curvy ass flipping up into the air, each time, a narrow wedge of auburn showing between the cheeks of her bare ass. “My god,” Megan whispered, “seeing her at the news desk with her blouse buttoned up to her throat, you’d never guess. Ohh wow, what her viewers never get to see!”

A first hour passed as we watched other pretty wives being kissed and fondled, their loving husbands looking on. But decency prevailed; kissing and touching, but no overt sexual acts. The respectful protocol seemed to be ‘nude in the pool was cool,’ but the guys strolling around with towels wrapped around the waist.

I felt another nudge, Megan’s elbow bumping against my ribs, following her eyes, I saw my banker’s prim wife, now sitting on the lap of our host, her loose skirt half-way up her bare thighs, an arm around Bert’s neck and looking dreamy-eyed. And I wondered, before this night is over, will I get to see my banker’s pretty wife naked, maybe get to see our hostess naked… what would it feel like to touch her, to stare down into the luminous green eyes of a naked Wendy and feel those magnificent uplifted breasts bare against my skin?

Pleasingly, aside from the few single guys, the crowd in and around the swimming pool seemed to be primarily married couples… lovely naked wives with diamond rings flashing and wedding bands on their fingers. Megan cuddled at my side, wide-eyed, staring at the more handsome of the guys in the pool, guys with strong, nicely tanned backs… and floppy wet bare cocks.

“Ohh my,” she murmured… “I didn’t know a soft penis could still be so… so thick, and ohh my god, so long.”

My wife's timid voice carried that sweet shyness I loved so much. She was sitting in her crotch-stained panties, sneaking peeks at other men’s lengthy penises and I saw the warm blush creeping over her pretty cheeks.

With so many naked wives in the pool, sitting fully clothed and with her knees so piously clenched, my darling Meg was the perfect picture of resistance. Add to that attraction, a lovely face, blonde hair, a shapely ass and dimpled bare knees and the guys were passing our chairs and teasing my shy wife… trying to get her out of her clothes. One or two reached down with wet fingers and tugged on her hand, but she sat there blushing, pulling her hand back and slanting those aqua-blue eyes away.

“Honey, would you like to join-in?” I offered… “Go ahead, get out of your clothes and slip into the pool.”

“Ohhh Bobby, I'd be too embarrassed.”

“Well, keep your bra and panties on. I'll go in with you.”

“Ohh no… Bobby, my panties are too thin.”

******
But as to wet panties, we were watching several nude and semi-nude girls frolicking in the pool, bare-breasted, their stretchy wet panties half-clinging to their curvy butts. Bare belly-buttons, darkly shadowed pubic bones and the deep cracks between their nicely rounded ass-cheeks were intermittently on display. Megan pinched my hand, pointing out a particularly pretty brunette. “See what I mean Bobby, about thin white panties, when they get wet.”

As I glanced, two guys were playfully tossing this extremely pretty brunette girl up and down in the water, the split mound of her vulva and a dark patch of hair were showing through the crotch of her wet panties. A young man passed our chairs; he saw us staring at this beautiful dark haired girl, he paused and commented… “They call her ‘Brunette Beth,’ lovely isn’t she?”

He moved on and we continued watching lovely Beth, her pretty cheeks, like morning dew on a rose petal. She was kissing the younger of the two men, lovely bare breasts against his chest, her arms clutched around his back… and there it was, against the tanned skin of his bare back… the glint of a diamond and the noticeable shine of a gold wedding band. A few minutes later, we watched the same two men leading the pretty brunette wife toward the privacy of the huge house.

“Oh my,” Meg gasped. “One of the men… he’s already getting an erection.”

The slightly older of the two men, the one with an obvious erection was clutching his wife's left hand and leading her toward the house. Megan was staring as they neared our chairs and we could see his stiffening penis lifting the front of his towel… and the other man, a handsome younger man was following only a step behind. As the flush-faced young wife passed by, lush, up-lifted bare breasts were gently swaying and the crack of her curvy ass was visible through her wet panties.

Transfixed, Megan was still staring at the young wife's back-side as she disappeared into a softly lit doorway. Now, only a trail of wet foot prints marked her passage, but the taunting image of ‘Brunette Beth’ lingered. “Ohhh Bobby, did you see her wedding band? Do you think one of those men is… is really her own husband?”

“Mmm hmm, likely the slightly older guy, the one leading her into the house,” I mumbled. “Bert said a lot of handsome couples gather at his private parties. He said many husbands bring their wives for a chance to meet celebrities and other good-looking guys.”

Her eyes flashed at me, “…like that pretty TV news girl and her husband? My god Bobby, do you suppose she… she really ‘does it’ with other men?”

“Uh-huh, and like a lot of celebrity people, she has to protect her private life.”
“Ohh my, that’s why the gate is guarded,” she gasped, and so it’s not just our bedtime fantasy, husbands really offer their wives to younger guys and let them… well, really have sex!”

My innocent Meg was astonished, eyes glistening, her cheeks pinkly flushed. “Wide-eyed, Meg was still staring toward the house, and I suppose, imagining what was about to happen to Beth in some private room. “Ohhh my god,” she gasped, “will he just let that young guy ‘do it’ with his wife and he'll just… just sit there and watch?”

“Uh-huh, I suppose he's in there right now, sitting at the bottom of a bed and watching his blushing wife slipping out of those wet panties… and the young guy’s probably already naked and…”

I paused as she turned her head… that big blue-eyed gaze coming back to me, watching my eyes, listening to my speculations. “Must be scary,” I whispered, “But exciting too… for a husband to watch while a strong young guy gets his pretty wife down on her back… pulls her panties down and quickly fucks her right before his eyes.”

Surprised by my impulsive lack of restraint, Megan quickly lowered her lashes, but as the sudden image of being on her back under another man took shape in her curious mind, I saw a slight shifting of her hips and felt her fingers tighten on mine… a subconscious grasping of nervous fingers.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, a quiver in her voice, “Bobby, you wouldn't ever… would you? I mean, ever want to see me… like that, I mean… like some guy getting me down and pulling off my panties?” And she stared at me with those big innocent eyes.

“Honey, we just came for short visit… isn’t that what we said?”

“Mmm, just cuz’ of a silly curiosity.”

A moment passed in silence, “But Bobby, if some kinda nice guy tried to… to fuck me, you know, like we pretend in bed, you wouldn't ‘really’ let him… would you?”

Meg,” I whispered while looking into her eyes, “maybe we should, well, really consider it.”

“Ohh Bobby, you can’t be serious.”

But her blue-eyed gaze kept drifted back toward the pool, sneaking glances at an exceedingly handsome young guy. He was a cut way above all the other guys… tall, with the rippling muscles of a young male athlete. It was a somewhat familiar face, but one I couldn't quite place. His confident movements, quick and sure… pool water dripping from his stylish long hair, running down his strong back in little ripples.

He was glancing our way, from time-to-time, casting his eyes at my pretty wife, still sitting with her clothes on and her knees clasped. I leaned back in my chair, eyes looking off across the dark foothills, but in the periphery of my vision, I watched them… watched the age-old mating ritual, their eyes meeting, my wife's flirty blue eyes quickly looking away, but coming back again, the blush deepening on her cheeks, her warm fingers creeping onto the palm of my hand.

The young man moved closer, under the water, sliding along the side of the pool; then resting his crossed arms on the ledge… his handsome head barely ten feet away, chin resting on his wrist, his dark eyes looking up at my wife’s pretty face.

Meg forced her eyes to slant away, but I could feel her grip tightening on my fingers; her nails sharp against the palm of my hand. I leaned close to her, snuggled my face into the strands of warm honey-blonde hair, I drew a breath of her scent, and then, close to her ear, my tone soft and serious, I whispered…

“Meg… sweetheart, would you like to go into the house with that guy…?”

She drew a long trembling breath and held it, “ohhh Bobby,” she breathed out with a long sigh, “I don't think I can just do it… just like that…”

“But Meg, wouldn’t you like to try it… if I wanted to go with you, and see it happen?”

“You mean, like we pretend in bed, about fucking with other guys, but… but really?”

“Uh-huh, the way we whisper about having another guy in bed with us… between your legs… ‘doing it’ while we kiss and hold hands.”

“Ohhh Bobbie, I'd be so scared,” but her eyes drifted back… and locked with his.

And I felt my wife's sharp nails cutting deeper into my palm and something shifting… like the axis of my world was starting to tilt.

****************
Continued in part 3… {{{Stretch your wife out on the bed and lock the door, I have another key}}}
BWB
When a married woman offers the precious gift of her body to another man, he must give something in return, not diamonds or jewles... but a treasured memory, one that will live in the secret corners of her mind forever.

(Bertram W. Bronson, Malibu 2007)

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zorro
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Re: “Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by zorro » Sat Nov 19, 2011 8:15 pm

Wax on, Dark Wanderer!
Sharing your partner is a very loving act. Double her pleasure; double your fun.
Kevin Foster, The Three Marriage Enigmas: ". . . sex with a man other than her husband is simply the most erotic sex possible for a woman."

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Re: “Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by abhiandpreeti » Tue Nov 22, 2011 4:58 pm

Go on Bert
Abhi, the hubby
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Re: “Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by roadrunner » Tue Nov 22, 2011 7:54 pm

I enjoyed this installment as much as the first! Thanks for another well-written story!

Hope you don't keep us waiting too long for the next part! ;)
Two words that should rarely be used when discussing human behavior are 'always' and 'never'!

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Re: “Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by Scotch98 » Wed Nov 23, 2011 2:57 am

Great Story, Looking forward to the next part.

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Re: “Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by Lettuce Tramp » Mon Nov 28, 2011 12:45 pm

I almost missed this part, we were on the road & it had fallen off the first page.... I'm glad I went deeper & found it.

Thanx Bert, & as always I'm looking forward to the next part (along with everyone else).

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Re: “Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch” … (Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by trickrick » Sat Feb 25, 2012 5:29 pm

A heartfelt thank you. anxiously waiting and still hoping for conclusion of the last story, part seven?

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Re: ' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by gearhead » Mon Feb 27, 2012 9:54 am

Thank you for continuing to write and post this story. Your writing continues to set the standard. It's three dimensional; the point of view of each person is explored. The reader does not think "this is a made up story". And based on the stories posted by those that live this life, you have a very comprehensive understanding of the wide range of emotions, thoughts, and feelings that accompany those who chose to go down this road. I don't know how many readers appreciate how hard it is to write this well.

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Paul_Pines
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Re: ' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by Paul_Pines » Fri Mar 09, 2012 7:36 pm

Damn, you hit the cuckold nail on the head, Bert.

Thanks!

Sincerely,

Cuckold Paul

tay
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Re: ' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by tay » Wed Apr 11, 2012 3:43 pm

I had almost missed part 5,,,,,didn't realize it was up yet!

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Re: ' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by tay » Sun Feb 14, 2016 6:53 pm

bbb

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Re: ' Do My Pretty Wife… but let me watch ' …(Megan, Part 2)

Unread post by tay » Wed Sep 12, 2018 2:31 pm

*********

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