Lunch and Dessert

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Don Jetman
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Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by Don Jetman » Thu Dec 20, 2018 8:52 am

This one's an early one, back when we were rookies at this. It's a bit about L's
budding confidence and hunger for new things (and men), and a bit about my
ambivalence watching and accepting it. Good times...



Lunch and Dessert

by Don Jetman

In a somewhat surprising turn of events, L called me at work to see if I wanted
to have lunch together. After relocating recently, our life has been upside-down
with the annoying distractions of moving and the stress of new jobs. Hotwifing
has been put on the back burner for some months, although we've enjoyed a long
stretch of fantasy mileage from our summer vacation and Dave's last party.

I could see by the look on her face that she was up to something.

As she looked over her menu, she told me, "There's this guy at work with this
great body..."

I looked up and started to grin. L kept her nose buried in her menu.

"And, you think he might be interested?"

"Oh, he's interested...," she assured me, still looking down at the lunch
choices. She was teasing me, making me wait, making me guess, and ultimately,
making me beg for details. I decided to try to out-wait her, to compete in her
own game. Before hotwifing, her teasing used to infuriate me, but now it's
become a mix of frustration and excitement. Still, she knows it always gets to
me, and she delights in watching me squirm, especially these days when she knows
I'll tolerate the squirming much longer if the carrot she leads me with is sex.
But dammit, she was quiet for so long...

The waiter came, took our order, and the large menus. Hah! Now she can't hide
behind it - she'll have to spill the beans. But, she didn't. She sat back in her
chair and smiled briefly at me as she sipped her iced tea. Finally, I gave in.

"So, this guy?" I asked her, leaning over the table toward her.

"Guy?" she asked, so innocent, so proper in her crisp white blouse and dark
business suit. Ohhh, she was going to play this for all it was worth and more.
OK, I'll play her game, her way. I give up.

"The guy - with the great body?" I was begging now, and she loved it.

"Oh, that guy," she said, grinning back at me across the table. This was getting
a little tedious. It was a delicate subject for such a public place. I leaned
forward again and whispered.

"Do you want him?"

Finally, she leaned forward as well, still grinning, whispering.

"Oh Sweetheart, are you asking me to have sex with him?" Her eyes were as big as
the saucers on the table. She was mocking me, feigning surprise and delight at
what she pretended to be a shocking proposal. When had she become so good at
this?

"OK - yes!" I told her, still trying not be heard at the next table.

"I already have. Twice. See how hard I try to make you happy?"

Her little smile was so smug as she picked at her food, knowing that there was
little I could say out loud in the restaurant. She was killing me, a second at a
time, seconds so long that I gulped my food so we could get out of there. L
continued to pick at hers, then ordered dessert. Cheesecake. How damned long
could it take for her to eat a tiny wedge of cheesecake? Long enough. Forever.
Fuck!

It's times like this that I struggle with feelings of anger and frustration. I
know she's playing a game, and I know what the game is, and usually I don't mind
forfeiting to L at all. But when she intentionally draws the teasing out to what
seems like an eternity, and she knows I can't do a thing but squirm and sweat,
my instinct is to take control, not give in. And it's especially strong when sex
is involved.

I suspect the conflict is tied to the angst I sometimes feel when I'm forced
into an uncomfortably subordinate role in our hotwifing pursuits. Relinquishing
control is exhilarating to a point, but beyond that point the need for sexual
gratification along with an intact ego forces a conflict that is very much like
the angst I feel when L has an unusually powerful attraction to another man,
pursues him on her own, and fucks him in my absence. Yes, it's hot, and
forbidden - all the things that make hotwifing exciting - but the damned,
helpless waiting, the postponement of my gratification until hers has simmered,
boiled over, and chilled again, is excruciating for me. I'm really not sure if
it's getting worse, or that I'm just starting to recognize and understand it
more lately, but it can be overwhelmingly frustrating at times. Then, I look
back at how I felt, and cringe at the picture of a spoiled child stomping his
feet and demanding a second piece of candy. I dunno - it's just how it happens
lately. But goddammit, during our lunch I wanted that piece of candy more than
anything!

As she ate the cheesecake a nibble at a time, I finally asked her, again in an
exasperated whisper, "So, is that all you're going to tell me about him?"

"Mmmmm," she said, sucking the last few crumbs from her fork, savoring them,
then swallowing. "Delicious!" Then, after a pregnant pause, smiling at me, "The
cheesecake, Sweetheart. Or did you think I meant something else?"

She was deadly serious - not a hint of the teasing grin I knew so well. I looked
to either side of us - the tables were much too close for me to push the issue.
She had me again. When the waiter brought the bill, I went for my wallet, but L
already had her credit card out, impatiently eyeing her watch. "I'll get it,"
she told me, now grinning ear to ear. "I think you've paid enough today." No one
around us knew what that meant, but I did. Was she even telling me the truth
about her mystery guy? Was she making him up?

Outside the restaurant, she kissed me on the cheek, and simply said, "Love you -
see you tonight." I watched her walk to her car, no longer the girl I married,
now a woman who had learned to play me like violin, but maybe just a little too
well. I stood there as she disappeared into the early afternoon crowd, crazy
with questions I wasn't able to ask - when was she with him, where, how good was
he, and did she want him again? I asked those questions, to myself, during my
drive back to work, and every minute of the afternoon. Then, she called.

"Don, we don't have any plans for tonight, do we?"

"Um, no. Why?"

"I, um, think I have a date - if you're OK with it."

"You think you have a date? Aren't you sure?" Now it was my turn to tease.

"It's - um - well, I wanted to let you know, I mean, to make sure it's OK."

Here was the woman who enjoyed torturing me through lunch, the femme-fatale who
played such a calculated game of cat-and-mouse in a public place, now so
tentative and cautious within just a few hours. From siren to innocent wife -
the enigma that is L.

"Could this be the guy with the great body? The one you seem to confuse with
cheesecake?" It was fun to make her squirm for a change, to make innocent wifey
blush as she asked to go on her "date".

"James. His name is James. So, it's OK?"

"Sure, it's OK. But from what you told me, isn't it a little late to be asking
my permission?"

There was an uncomfortable pause - uncomfortable on her part, satisfying and
filled with potential on mine.

"Oh," she answered soberly. "I - I thought you might like that. Are you upset?"

"Not at all," I told her. "It's just that it's not like you to not tell me. You
were really with him twice?"

"That's what I thought you might like - something new. Was I wrong?"

"Absolutely not," I assured her. "You just surprised me. I didn't suspect a
thing."

Silence. Was she still shy about this kind of thing? How sweet. "How long has
this been going on?" Again, a little zinger to make her blush - words of a
"suspicious" mate.

"Not long," she said. "Only a couple of days - well, this week, I guess. We can
talk tonight. I need to leave early this afternoon, so I have to get some work
done."

"Leaving early to get ready for your date?" I teased.

"Shopping," she told me. "I need a new dress."

Of course," I told her, teasing again. "Wouldn't want to make a bad impression
on your first date, would you?"

She laughed. "It'll give you something to think about until then. See you
tonight. Love you."

***

That night I watched her get ready. Her new dress wasn't a dress at
all - she chose a very classy gold silk blouse trimmed in black, and a very
form-fitting pair of black slacks. It was the perfect mix of elegance and
sexiness - not too dressy, but flattering enough to turn some heads. I noticed a
hint of a panty line, so I told her it ruined the look. She inspected the fit in
the mirror and frowned a little.

"Hmmm, maybe. You've been watching me like a hawk. You always do that. You like
watching me get dressed, don't you?"

She was still staring into the mirror, but her grin was impossible to hide.

"I do love watching you get dressed - especially for a date."

L just shook her head and turned to face me in her new outfit. She was grinning
her evil grin.

"Well then, get a good look. He'll be here any minute."

I knew it was a hopelessly impossible request, but I tried anyway. I asked her
to try the slacks without panties. Fat chance. Then, as though she knew I
expected her to refuse, she peeled off the slacks, then the panties, and climbed
back into the slacks. The look was stunning. Her little ass was perfectly molded
by the seat of the slacks. A flawlessly smooth belly below the waist band was
mouthwatering, a subtle but noticeable invitation to be touched, stroked, and
fondled. I tried to tell her, but I'm afraid I just stared and drooled. She got
the message, checked herself in the mirror again, and told me, "Hmm, you were
right. Much better." Had I been hooked to a heart monitor, a crash cart would be
on the way.

So why not go for the bra as well? I asked, and she tried the blouse without it,
but the silk draped over her breasts like a second skin. I loved it, but agreed
with L that it was too suggestive for public view. The bra went back on, but the
panties stayed on the bed where she left them. There is much to be said for
compromise. I knew thoughts of her pantyless little bottom would be torturing me
every minute she was out with him. But it was a good kind of torture. At least
that's what I told myself. Until the doorbell rang. Gulp.

James was friendly and outgoing from the first seconds we met. He seemed
perfectly at ease with the situation, shaking my hand, making polite small talk,
and finally putting his arm around L and asked if she was ready to go. He was
completely uninhibited, but respectful, as though he might be taking my sister
on a date. L had told me he knew about hotwifing and had promised her there
would be no problems. But, we both knew that was just talk. In our experience,
few men know how to act in front of a husband the first time they meet in a
hotwife relationship. At best, there are some awkward gaps in the conversation
and uncertainty about whether or not to touch a guy's wife in front of him. In
time, it all works out (in the best of times), but first meetings are mostly
tentative efforts to test the compatibility of all involved. James acted like it
was the most natural thing in the world to show up at a married couple's door,
chat with the husband like an old buddy, then take his wife out for a little
romancing, or more. Of course this time he had already had L, twice according to
her, and he knew I knew. But, no problem. I had to admit, I wish I could have
been as nonchalant about it. I wondered if he had some practice.

I watched them leave together, his "great body" ushering L through the door, her
cute little ass so close beside him, and so naked under those slacks. I wondered
if he had noticed, or, when he would discover her new fashion statement. Would
he slide his hand inside from the back, over her smooth round ass, or down the
front, moving over her belly to her hard little clit? If only I could be there
to see it. I wasn't even sure where they were going - dinner first, and then,
"We'll see...," he told me as they grinned at each other. My best guess was a
nice meal followed by some quality time in a hotel somewhere. I considered that
they may spend the night together, but L hadn't mentioned it. I was sure she'd
call if she decided to stay the night. I wondered how she'd tell me. "Um, Don,
I've decided I want James to fuck me all night long. I'll see you in the
morning." In my dreams. I could count the times she used "fuck" on one hand. OK,
maybe two. But I doubted the call would be one out of a cuckold fantasy. Still,
my mind was racing - much too excited.

I heard the door open about 11:30, and there they were. Not what I had expected.
I could hear L from the den - laughing and giggling. By the time I found them
they were headed for the kitchen nook, both still laughing. L was holding his
hand. I've seen her very tipsy before, and recognized the unrestrained
flirtatiousness and the daring look in her eyes (almost wildly sexual in a way
she almost never reveals, even to me). The three of us stood there, not knowing
exactly what to say at first. I offered to make some coffee, and suggested we
all sit and talk for a while. I really wanted to get to know this guy if L liked
him enough to have him as a steady lover. They looked at each other for a few
seconds as though they knew something I didn't. Then L made their intentions
clear - very clear.

"Umm, we were going to bed, Don. Can we talk tomorrow?"

I was stunned. Not because she wanted to have sex with him, and not even that
she wanted it in our bed. I think it was her boldness - that she would bring him
home and take him straight to bed, as though she couldn't wait any longer. She
did all this unapologetically, without a hint of her usual "care and concern"
for how she thought I might react. And of course the alcohol played a part. I
wouldn't say she was "drunk", but a little alcohol goes a long way with L, and
she was well past her usual slightly tipsy self-imposed limit. Yes, I was
stunned - because it was very, very, very hot - here was the perfect hotwife I
first fantasized about so many years ago.

She led him to the bedroom while I stood there, feet frozen to the floor, mind
reeling, dick as hard as a rock.

After waiting until enough time passed that I didn't seem like a stalker, I
headed for the bedroom. The door was open. The lights were off. And my sweet
wife was on top of him, naked, her bare ass pumping slowly up and down, taking
him inside her again and again. I stood in the darkened hallway and watched it
all - L's gift to me for enduring her torture with patience and good humor. It
was dark and silent - L's white skin glowed in what little light filtered in
from the hallway - James was harder to make out. A little heavy breathing from
both of them, and an occasional whimper from L were the only sounds. Did they
know I was watching?

I've always wondered if L was "different" with other men when I wasn't present.
Did she feel she had to guard what she said and did, even in the slightest, when
I was there? Did some men touch something hidden deep in her psyche, some
fantasy or trigger still unknown to me (or L), that would bring it screaming to
the surface? What would that be like, this beautiful woman, so unfamiliar in her
actions and words that I might not even recognize her?

Talking about such things together is useless. How could she answer the
question, "Are you different with other men?" Everyone is somewhat "different"
with different sex partners - little things, responses to things we like or
don't like, the touch, feel, and exploration of a partner's body, the rhythm of
sex itself. And even if she could put that "difference" into words, would she? L
has always spoken freely about the things she hasn't liked - the cigarette smell
on a smoker's breath, or the incompetent advances of a drunk. But she's never
said something like, "He did [this] to me and it was the best sex I've ever
had." Is it that it hasn't happened, or that she's afraid to tell me? If I was a
fly on the wall when she fucked her JAG with the monster cock, or when her
perpetually hard Greek Adonis took her in the "Greek" way, would I see a woman I
haven't yet met?

Over thirty minutes they must have tried every position in the Kama Sutra. I
watched him take her from the top, the bottom, and the side. I wouldn't call
what I saw as particularly loving, but it was fiery, passionate lovemaking. In
the end, there was no explosive crescendo, just a slowing of thrusts and moans,
until they were silent. Had she come? Had he? I simply couldn't tell. It wasn't
the climax I had hoped for, but hell, I was only the observer. I didn't hear
them complaining. They lay side by side, L's hand gently cupping his deflating
cock, his hand wandering over her breasts and belly.

Suddenly I felt out of place watching them decompress. It just felt wrong spying
on such a personal, intimate moment between them (probably combined with some
angst on my part that were so into each other after fucking), so I left them
in their afterglow, padded back down the hall and into one of the guest bedrooms.
As tortured and anxious as I had been twelve hours ago, I felt strangely
comforted and at peace. I was asleep within minutes.

The next morning I found them at the kitchen table, talking and sipping coffee.
James gave me a hearty, "Good morning!", while L smiled her best sheepish smile.
I kissed her on the cheek - she offered it to me without much enthusiasm,
something that bothered me a little until I realized she was very hung-over.
With L's drinking habits, three to four glasses of wine would be enough to give
her flu-like symptoms the next day. She looked pretty miserable sitting there in
her wrinkled nightshirt nursing her coffee. James sat across from her in his
boxers, grinning and teasing her about her condition. She took it in good humor,
but I could tell she was trying to make the best of what was payback for her
wildness the night before.

Things got quiet when I joined them with my coffee mug and bagel. No one knew
quite what to say, including me. I had a million questions I wanted to ask, but
the atmosphere wasn't exactly electric. No sparks at all, except the ones in my
head. Finally, gracious host that I am, I asked James if he slept well. He
grinned at me, then told me, "We slept very well, thanks.". "So, you did sleep
then?" was my comeback, now my turn to grin. L rolled her eyes, sighed, pushed
her chair back from the table, and announced, "I'm taking a shower." James and I
watched her limp off to the bedroom.

James wasn't at all reluctant to talk about L. He spoke about how well-matched
they are in bed, and how responsive she is to the little things - the tip of his
tongue run lightly around the inside of her ear, her shiver when he strokes her
side from under her arm to her hip, and the reflexive thrust of her pelvis when
he traces back and forth along the crease of her groin. "But I guess you know
all that," he told me. I did. Now he did as well. He was a quick study, and I
knew L appreciated that. It's the little things that make a good lover, and I
was sure his skill at remembering them was everything to L.

James is an interesting guy, in the sense that he's completely comfortable in
the role of a wife's extramarital lover in front of her husband. I wouldn't say
he falls into the stereotypical "Bull" category - he didn't play the alpha-male
at all. But he was remarkably open with me about his sexual relationship with L,
as though I was a confidant, not her husband. There was no disrespect or
insincerity in how he described his relationship with L. It was as though he had
some past experience at this. When I questioned him, he admitted he had, with
one other couple a few years ago.

"She was a lot like L," he told me. "Sometimes you know the minute you meet a
woman, that look she gives you that tells you right away that she wants you to
fuck her." That took me back a step, and I sat there for a few seconds trying to
imagine L surrendering that look so noticeably, so immediately. "So, L had that
look?" I asked finally. He smiled. "I knew the second we met. There wasn't any
doubt. She's a very beautiful woman, Don. I don't think many men could miss
that look."

Looking back, I don't remember ever seeing "that look" when we met. L was a
college coed, and I do remember the first warm, doe-eyed look she gave me. But
the "fuck me" look? No way. Not that I doubted she could give that look back
then. Knowing what I now know about her college days, the guys who had her must
have seen it as early as James had. His remark had me wondering though - why
hadn't I seen that look?

L maintains that she was a virgin when we met, and that it was only after having
sex with the man she wanted to marry that she felt free to experiment with other
guys. She's explained that we "made love", while the others were purely physical
attraction, opportunities to explore her more daring, adventurous side for the
first time in her life. It's both amusing and a bit disturbing that I missed it
back then - "making love" to her fiance on weekends vs. casual, yet daring,
adventurous sex with her fuck-buddies during the week while I was absent. And
yet, it's become so crystal clear these days - the contrast still remains, the
loving sex with her husband vs. new, adventurous sex with men she finds
physically irresistible.

Is it possible that after all this time (after assuming she was the one who has
changed the most, the girl I married, transformed into a confident hotwife) that
maybe I've changed just as much or more. Maybe it's the image I have of L that's
changed more than the woman herself. Although the girl is now a woman, inside
she still has the same wants and needs - the loving relationship with a man she
enjoys "making love" with, and the excitement and physical satisfaction she
enjoys with a man she can simply fuck. In the past, was it merely denial on my
part that she could be this sexually free? Although I played a big part in
opening the door, in liberating her from the fear and guilt that held her needs
in check, is it possible that L's libido has changed much less than my
perception of it?

"I took her to lunch the day we met," James continued. "By the time her dessert
came, I asked her if I should get a room. That's when I saw that look again. In
bed, we just clicked right away. She's, well, pretty amazing in bed. But, you
know that."

I smiled and nodded, trying to picture them together for the first time in a
king-sized hotel bed, blankets and sheets thrown on the floor, L's naked body
thrashing under him as her moans filled the room. I guess I paused a little too
long as I enjoyed my fantasy. For the first time a look of concern stared back
at me from across our kitchen table.

"You know this is just sex, right? No strings? Not now, not ever. You both seem
happy - I don't want to fuck that up."

I snapped out of my daydream, nodded and smiled.

"I mean, you are OK with this, right? That's what L told me..."

"I'm fine with this," I told him. "More than fine. L has good taste, and I trust
her. Besides, you make her very happy, and that trickles down, if you know what
I mean."

He seemed relieved, and his smile returned.

"Tell you what, man - I don't know how she keeps that figure. The woman loves
cheesecake."

hornedhubby
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by hornedhubby » Thu Dec 20, 2018 9:38 am

Kudos to you, Don! That's a great story with an exceptional portrayal of a wicked hotwife.

Thanks for sharing it.

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Don Jetman
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by Don Jetman » Thu Dec 20, 2018 11:04 am

hornedhubby wrote:Kudos to you, Don! That's a great story with an exceptional portrayal of a wicked hotwife.

Thanks for sharing it.
Thanks, hornedhubby. Much appreciated!

Don

jrobb
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by jrobb » Wed Dec 26, 2018 1:52 pm

Don,

Great story of a fun beginning.

Please, do tell us more, and feel free to show us this beautiful, sexy woman in the photo section of the forum called, "The Hotties".

JR

OOAA

Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by OOAA » Wed Dec 26, 2018 10:12 pm

Great story Don!!!!!

Btw, enjoy a Christmas cheesecake ;)

Merry Christmas to all!

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Don Jetman
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by Don Jetman » Thu Dec 27, 2018 11:14 pm

Thanks, JR and OOAA. I'll need L's permission to post a picture. Most of what I have are a few years old, and I like to retain the right to delete them in the future, which isn't possible here. We'll think about it.

No Christmas cheesecake for L this year. We're visiting friends and relatives, but none of her old boyfriends or Dom this time. It's been a strictly PG rated trip. It's killing me...

Don

subtoall
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by subtoall » Tue Jan 01, 2019 9:36 pm

Fantastic. What a marriage!

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Paul_Pines
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by Paul_Pines » Wed Jan 02, 2019 5:07 am

Wow, fantastic story! I don’t know if there is more to tell, but I hope so.

CP

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Don Jetman
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by Don Jetman » Wed Jan 02, 2019 2:45 pm

Thanks, guys. There is more to tell, some darker stuff, and then more twisted as we craved more excitement. Sometimes sideways is good, but only after you survive and learn from it.

Don

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SamWarrens
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by SamWarrens » Thu Jan 03, 2019 7:02 am

Hope you feel comfortable telling those further stories.
Great minds may think alike, but fools seldom differ.

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Don Jetman
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by Don Jetman » Fri Jan 04, 2019 4:57 pm

SamWarrens wrote:Hope you feel comfortable telling those further stories.
Well, kind of. See Doubting Don... for the darkest. Twisted is yet to come. But I was flamed the last time I posted that one, so...

Don

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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by pumachug » Sat Jan 05, 2019 5:17 am

Don Jetman wrote:
SamWarrens wrote:Hope you feel comfortable telling those further stories.
Well, kind of. See Doubting Don... for the darkest. Twisted is yet to come. But I was flamed the last time I posted that one, so...

Don
Don't let the turkeys get you down. Some of us enjoy your writing. Thanks Don

eater
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Re: Lunch and Dessert

Unread post by eater » Tue Jul 20, 2021 1:54 pm

thanks for a great story

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