' The Wife Watcher’s Party ' … (Part 1)
Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 2:05 pm
“The Wife Watcher’s Party”
Another wife watching tale by:
Bertram W. Bronson
bwbinca@hotmail.com
Chapter 1 … (Prologue)
Taunting sounds drifted through heavy drapery, whispering voices, movement and muffled little gasps of breath. I froze in place, listening intently, not daring to make the tiniest little sound. The bed was very close to my hiding place, only inches away from the drapery. Trying to muffle the sound of my hoarse breathing, I squatted in the darkness drawing short shallow breaths. There were more rustling noises... and a moment later, the sound of my wife's soft breathy whimpers reached my straining ears. I could feel my pulse quicken, shivers ran up my spine and I squirmed nervously, listening... waiting. An eternity passed as I clenched my fists and waited for each tiny sound. I could hear the movement of shifting bodies and the bed creaked slightly, once, then again. Not an ongoing rhythmic creaking, but still, the ominous sound of a squeaking bedspring prickled the hair on the back of my sweaty neck. And it was warm and dark inside my narrow hiding place, but they’d built a thickly padded floor and aside from the sound of my thumping heart I could move silently…
On hands and knees, like a sweaty caged animal, I began crawling back and forth along the heavy drapery… peering through the spaces in the pleated curtain… listening and watching his hand slipping through the neck of her white silk blouse, slipping into her bra, his fingertips inching toward the pert pink nipple of her breast. Head tipping back, Wendy was making little whimpering sounds and I felt my churning belly tightening into an achy twist of knots.
The bed creaked again… the sordid sound seemed a preview of what was about to happen and the anxiety tightened every muscle in my body, but still, uncontrollable shivers of anticipation washed over me and for just an instant, I thought about how I came to be here… so far from home, crouched in a dark hiding place, secretly watching my wife with another man, seeing his hands on her breasts… his fingers up under her skirt, toying with the thin crotch of her panties. Maybe I should have just ignored that strangely worded invitation. And it seemed like it came out of nowhere, just popped out of cyberspace and into in my personal e-mail folder… a mysterious party invitation.
I remember glancing at the e-mail curiously and mumbling aloud, “Probably just another internet scam?”
Instinctively, my finger eased toward the delete key, but my eyes quickly flashed over a line or two. No, it appeared to be straightforward, but there were innuendos and a clear, yet subtle undertone of sensuality. I paused, looking at the puzzling name of the sender…
Who is this Roadrunner guy, I wondered? Probably it’s someone with a rock group, maybe a racing team… well; it can't be a damn desert bird! Puzzled, I read the invitation a couple of times and one cryptic phrase caught my eye…
“…of an esoteric nature, in an exclusive and very private location.”
The next thing I did was grab my Webster’s and look-up esoteric. Mmmm… certainly not what I ‘thought’ it meant. Now really intrigued, I glanced up at my calendar… the 14th of July… it fell on a Saturday that year. I gazed at my calendar, my mind started pondering the possibilities… and it was only about three weeks away. I jotted down the location. As the days passed, I was still uncertain, but curiosity began to gnaw at me.
The weekend neared… “at Monterey Bay,” well, it’s probably just some kooky seaside gathering of local artists…
“But what the hell,” I thought to myself, “we need a little vacation anyway.” I didn’t give the wife any details…
Just came up behind Wendy in the kitchen, slipped an arm around her waist and thought about what the invitation implied… and what might happen. Stubbles of my day-old beard caught the gossamer strands of her long blonde hair and she shivered at the touch of my lips against the side of her tender neck. I let the tip of my tongue touch her skin and through a thin summer skirt, the warmth of Wendy's curvy buttocks pressed back against my stomach. I could feel the crack of her ass and my thoughts drifted into a more sordid dimension.
“Sweetheart, let’s just get away for a long weekend,” I whispered into the honeyed scent of her long soft hair.
I was still unconvinced, maybe even a little apprehensive, but we packed a few things for a quick trip out to the west coast. With a sweet flush of innocence on her pretty face, Wendy folded a particular silk blouse into our light travel bag, tucking it in with her bras and panties. There was an alluring fit to that white silk blouse, the way it always clung so deliciously to the shapely contours of her shifting breasts. I'd always loved the way it concealed her adorable curves, yet if one allowed his eyes to linger, it subtly revealed that sweet pinkish pucker of pert nipples…
And my pretty blonde wife wore it the night of the party… it was the one I'd bought for her birthday… exquisitely thin Japanese silk with tiny ivory buttons.
Memories of that long weekend now linger in every molecule of my brain… I remember conspiring with my hostess, hiding close to the bed, down on my knees, peeking through the curtain and secretly watching their image in the big wall mirror… seeing them kiss and seeing the shameful blush on her pretty face. His eyes lingered on her breasts and I felt that sinking sensation in my stomach as he eased his hand out of her bra and opened her blouse… his skillful fingers slipping those little ivory buttons out of the loops.
***********
About an hour earlier I'd been waiting out on the patio, sitting in a far corner, secretly watching them through the open French doors. It was a magical night, stars reflected like chips of diamonds scattered across the shimmering surface of the swimming pool. But the luxurious mansion, the magnificent of Monterey Bay, its night sky, the chirping of mating crickets held little interest. My mind… my soul… my very consciousness dwelled on the milling crowd behind the open doorway.
They were still sitting amongst the elegant party-goers, seemingly the affluent upper crust of west coast society. Cuddling on the sofa, their hands touched and they were whispering softly. Excitement flushed her pink cheeks, while under the shimmer of white silk, another faint hint of color revealed the firmness of my wife's tender nipples. Slowly Wendy turned in his arms… the silk blouse tightened across the swell of her breasts. As she shifted her weight, the movement lifted the round curve of one smooth ass-cheek an inch above the sofa cushion.
My eyes shifted from the curve of Wendy’s buttocks to the up-lift of firm shapely breasts and my pulse quickened as my wife pressed her warm fullness against his chest. With her pouty warm mouth poised for a first kiss, Wendy gazed up at him; fascination glimmered in her deep blue eyes. Staring down into the misty blue of my wife's eyes, his hand slipped around her back and eased under the shimmering strands of long blonde hair. Soft silky hair brushed tantalizingly against his knuckles and under the thin silk blouse, I knew the smooth skin of her back was invitingly warm under his fingertips…
Even in the dim lighting, I could see his hand gradually easing lower, down along her spine, onto the upper swell of her curvy buttocks and I could feel it… the tingle of anxiety starting to creep slowly up the back of my neck. He hugged Wendy firmly, drawing her married warmth into his strong arms. With my wife leaning slightly toward him, his lips lightly brushed her cheek and… palm-up, an inch at a time, his fingers slipped between the sofa cushion and one curvy ass cheek.
Wendy's eyes went wide and there was a breathy gasp as his fingertips began wiggling deeper under her voluptuous backside, feeling through her skirt and panties, inching toward the deep crease between her curvy buttocks… I watched his hands on my wife, his fingers cupped under the sweetly rounded curve of her warm ass and my guts tightened… sweaty tension began seeping out of my pores.
Her pretty face flushed, nervously her hips shifted on the seat cushion, but now my wife was practically sitting on the palm of his hand and his up-turned fingers were pressing the crotch of her panties up against the moist crease of her vagina…
Across the crowded room, no one seemed to care. No one seemed to even notice a handsome young man sitting with his fingers hidden under the hind-end of a pretty blonde girl. And my blushing wife squirmed… little side-to-side wiggles of her buttocks and glanced furtively around the room. I suppose it was just my heated imagination, but with barely noticeable undulations of her hips she seemed to be rubbing her panty crotch against his fingertips. Maybe Wendy was just trying to wiggle away from his fingers, but as her breath quickened, I thought of her warm vaginal fluids, seeping through her thin pubic hairs, through the crotch of her panties, possibly staining the back of her skirt. And I thought of stopping it, of snatching my blushing wife from his grasp, but I sat, ostensibly paralyzed as the moments ticked by.
From out on the patio, unobserved in the shadows, I watched my shy wife twisting nervously in his arms, his fingertips hidden somewhere under the warmth of her wiggling backside and nervous perspiration began to sting at corners of my eyes. And my God, for Monterey Bay, the July night of the party was unusually hot and humid. My shirt seemed glued to my back and the little flurries of salt air drifting inland from the bay did little to dry the sweat.
Squirming in my seat, I saw him suddenly ease his hand out from under my wife's buttocks and lift her to her feet… my breath caught…
Wendy got to her feet with a shamefaced blush on cheeks. She stood long-legged and lovely in her high-heels and while glancing shyly around the room, she smoothed the wrinkles out of the backside of her skirt. Then quickly, before she could move away, he clasped my wife's hand and led her out onto the crowded dance floor. At the edge of the dance floor, he held my pretty wife at arms length and spun her around in a circle and with a twisting swirl of her long golden hair, she landed in the clasp of his arms… and they disappeared amongst the dancers.
And all the while they were dancing… unbeknownst to my innocent Wendy, the seclusion and privacy of a very special bed lay prepared... its satin bedding lay open, awaiting the warm naked loins of my timid wife.
***********
As I write these words, I still feel a twinge of guilt bubbling to the surface, but I'll go on with this shameful confession, this admission of marital betrayal. First I'll go back a bit… tell you how it started…
It was one of those impetuous moments, one or two casual comments and then, as if my common sense had taken wings, bit-by-bit the fanciful words just spilled out of my mouth. And in the next shameful hour, while standing with my pretty hostess under a shimmering night sky, we hatched a secret plot… an audacious scheme wherein this handsome young man would attempt to seduce my bashful wife. And the most shameful part of the scheme was that I would hide nearby… and watch the seduction take place. In the pit of my stomach, guilt chased the fear around in little twisty spirals and as the plan took shape, I remember staring out across the darkened bay and gripping the wrought iron railing with tight nervous fingers…
But in those fateful moments, I allowed my hostess to set the plan into motion… a cunning scheme for another man to hold my precious Wendy in his arms, dance with her and whisper softly in her ears. And should his teasing touches and whispers give rise to opportunity… entice my shy little darling into a hidden room, onto an available bed… and…
And behind a closed door, in the privacy of a quiet room, what might happen… will she allow him to tip her back onto the bed, slip his hand up under her skirt… and make love with her? Within our marriage, the intimate touch of another man remained only an exciting bedtime fantasy, but as the moment neared, the sordid images rippled from my swirling brain and down into my guts. A wash of anticipation welled up in my groin…
And I lived a long sweaty summer night… one that will always lurk among the dark weaving shadows of my mind.
********
Months have passed, back home in Kansas the cold winter rains have come. But still, on many dark nights, while my sweet Wendy sleeps quietly by my side, relentlessly my thoughts drift back to that hot mid-summer night in Monterey.
Virginal outside our marriage, it was her first time with another man and the flickering pictures unfold in my memory… images and high-fidelity recordings of every sound, replay over and over. And it still lives within me, memories of the exquisite groin-tightening pain... and the never to be forgotten, heart-thumping excitement…
Many times I reach under the bed covers and tenderly clasp my sleeping wife's hand, her soft fingers now lie warm and limpid in my hand, but I remember them…those same soft fingers coiled so warmly around his stiffened penis. I can still see the shy blush on her pretty cheeks as those married fingers stroked his penis… it was bone-hard under the sliding skin and I remember her excited blue eyes staring in fascination at the thick pulsing head, tightly swollen, it stood well above the firm clasp of her small fist.
Unbidden, the images float down from the darkened ceiling above our bed…my blushing Wendy resisting the urge, but finally slipping out of her panties and rolling shyly onto her back. Timidly Wendy lifted her skirt and parted her knees, exposing the feathery curls of blondish hair and the glistening seam of her vagina. I remember watching her arms creeping up around his neck, his swollen cock-head parting the wispy blonde hairs and sliding smoothly into the slippery warmth… my wife's spread knees bending back, her up-curving spine allowing one smooth firm thrust to bury the thickly swollen head deep into her little round belly. And the sound of those first shrieking cries… Oh my God those shrieking cries…
And her pearly pink-painted toes… ohhh how they soon began to clench and wiggle above his back. I remember it all… the creaking bed; the soft lighting on my wife's pretty face. And how could I ever forget the groans and whimpers or the fleeting glint of Wendy's gold wedding band as her sharp nails cut into the skin of his naked back?
Spread under him, toes clenched, nail scratches on his back… when those fleeting shadows drifted hauntingly down out of the dark; unconsciously I gently pressed her sleeping hand. I held the soft warm fingers that once clasped so tightly against the strong back of another man. On the other pillow, my wife's lovely blonde head stirred… her sleep disturbed, long dark eyelashes fluttered and for several moments the sound of her breathing changed. But I just held her soft warm hand as she slipped quietly back into her dreams and I looked down at her pretty face. I love to watch this beautiful female creature sleeping, see the errant strands of long blonde hair spilling across her cheek and listen to her breathing softly through sweetly parted pink lips. While her puffy little breaths stirred the thin strands of honey-colored hair, I tipped my head back and thought how much I love this woman… how I'll always love her, how she'll be my sweetheart forever.
So there are nights, when after we've made love, I lay staring up into the dark and my thoughts drift back to Monterey… hiding behind the curtain, watching and listening to the sound of my wife making love with another man. And I let the warm memories fill my mind… and when my mind is full, the memories spill over into little shivery sensations that trickle down my spine and settle into the pit of my stomach. As I hold Wendy's sleeping hand in mine; sometimes I feel her squeeze back, a little dreamy squeeze as her fingers curl around mine. Then I slip over onto her pillow and burrow my face into the fragrance of her soft blonde hair and while I feel her breathing softly against my cheek… I let the haunting memory unfold and I listen to it…
I listen to the sound of that hot summer night in Monterey, the sound of the bed… the way the slight creak of flexing bed-springs mingled so tellingly with my little darling’s moans and piercing cries…
But now, with a cold winter rain pattering on our roof, she’s resting quietly by my side, safe in my arms, all sleepy soft and warm… a faint touch of her sweet fragrance drifting up from under the blankets. And sometimes I gently lift and release the blankets and as the bed-covers settle back down around her sleeping body that little puff of sweet female scent wafts up against my face… the heady aroma of warm female skin, a touch of perfume and the faint scent of her warm loins. We all know it… we all love it, that wondrously intoxicating scent of a woman that lingers so delightfully in our bedding, on our pillows… and in all our minds.
Less than an hour ago we made love, but many times, helpless with my love for her and weak with need, I crawl back between Wendy's long bare legs and nudge her knees apart. When she feels me settling between her thighs and the head of my penis snuggles into the moist curly hairs, she begins to awaken, hips shift a little and her knees begin to draw back. My wife's inner thighs are smooth, the silky skin warm against my hips… then those long dark eyelashes flutter, sleepy blue eyes squint open and she murmurs…
“Ohh darling… you want to… again?”
In a slow sleepy move, her fingers ease down between us and she lifts the soft cotton nightie above her dainty belly button and I feel Wendy's smooth bare stomach snuggling up against mine. My wife slants her loins, slick and gluey, the encompassing female warmth slides over me… the head of my penis pushing fully into the clinging pink slipperiness. “Ohhh darling,” she whispers… “I love doing it… and doing it… and doing it…”
And so, beneath the warm sheltering blankets of our marriage bed, lost in the erotic memory of a night long passed, I make love to her again… tender sleepy-love.
***********
Well, my readers, of course you also love your wives, you love them deeply, but have you ever thought of what it would be like… to peek through a curtain or quietly sneak up to a closed door and listen to your little darling wife … listen to the mother of your children making love with another man... hear the bed creaking and her little breathy gasps?
Now don't pretend you've never toyed with the scary thought of your wife with another man… don't deny it even to yourself! Because if you've read this far, I know the tantalizing image has been sneaking up into your mind!
That said, and when ‘its’ coming close and she starts to groan, do you ever wonder if your fists would clench and every muscle go tight? How about when your wife begins to orgasm and that crazed butterfly starts darting about in your stomach? And the sound of her whimpers… ohhh yes, those simpering cries would send a thousand tiny wings fluttering around the lining of your tense belly. So can you imagine the raw feeling, the warmth spreading into your groin… the tingling sensation crawling up along your spine?
Well my readers, the following chapters will tell such a story… a very long and titillating exploration into the psychology of wife-sharing and that curious impulse to let it happen. It’s a meandering tale of raw human emotion, the exquisite thrill of planning it, the ensuing anxiety of watching helplessly as the undoable act takes place… And of course, there’s the rise of heart thumping excitement as her arms begin to curl around his neck, clenched toes creep higher over his back and her first fearful whimpers become pleading cries of passion.
So if you dare, read on, travel with me deeper into this twisty maelstrom of emotion… maybe even bring your bashful wife along… that little sweetheart you love so dearly. But beware, if your sweet wife slips into the narrow darkness of my hiding place and shares lingering peeks through the mystical curtain, her innocent mind may begin to dwell on the image of being naked in the arms of a strong handsome guy… another man’s long stiff penis thrusting smoothly into her tense belly. She may begin to ponder the thought of her pretty head bouncing on the pillows of your creaking marriage bed while you lean close and stare anxiously into her glazed eyes… she may want to learn the sweaty feeling of your clasping hand… your nervous breath against her flaming cheek.
Well it’s going to be a long journey, but if you bring her along into this swirling pit of emotion, hold the little darling’s left hand and toy with her wedding band while I turn that crazed butterfly loose, I'll just let it flit about, randomly banging its head into the tender lining of your stomachs until you both feel the shivering tingle of its wings way down in your queasy bowels…
**********
To be continued in (Chapter 2)
B.W.B.
Another wife watching tale by:
Bertram W. Bronson
bwbinca@hotmail.com
Chapter 1 … (Prologue)
Taunting sounds drifted through heavy drapery, whispering voices, movement and muffled little gasps of breath. I froze in place, listening intently, not daring to make the tiniest little sound. The bed was very close to my hiding place, only inches away from the drapery. Trying to muffle the sound of my hoarse breathing, I squatted in the darkness drawing short shallow breaths. There were more rustling noises... and a moment later, the sound of my wife's soft breathy whimpers reached my straining ears. I could feel my pulse quicken, shivers ran up my spine and I squirmed nervously, listening... waiting. An eternity passed as I clenched my fists and waited for each tiny sound. I could hear the movement of shifting bodies and the bed creaked slightly, once, then again. Not an ongoing rhythmic creaking, but still, the ominous sound of a squeaking bedspring prickled the hair on the back of my sweaty neck. And it was warm and dark inside my narrow hiding place, but they’d built a thickly padded floor and aside from the sound of my thumping heart I could move silently…
On hands and knees, like a sweaty caged animal, I began crawling back and forth along the heavy drapery… peering through the spaces in the pleated curtain… listening and watching his hand slipping through the neck of her white silk blouse, slipping into her bra, his fingertips inching toward the pert pink nipple of her breast. Head tipping back, Wendy was making little whimpering sounds and I felt my churning belly tightening into an achy twist of knots.
The bed creaked again… the sordid sound seemed a preview of what was about to happen and the anxiety tightened every muscle in my body, but still, uncontrollable shivers of anticipation washed over me and for just an instant, I thought about how I came to be here… so far from home, crouched in a dark hiding place, secretly watching my wife with another man, seeing his hands on her breasts… his fingers up under her skirt, toying with the thin crotch of her panties. Maybe I should have just ignored that strangely worded invitation. And it seemed like it came out of nowhere, just popped out of cyberspace and into in my personal e-mail folder… a mysterious party invitation.
I remember glancing at the e-mail curiously and mumbling aloud, “Probably just another internet scam?”
Instinctively, my finger eased toward the delete key, but my eyes quickly flashed over a line or two. No, it appeared to be straightforward, but there were innuendos and a clear, yet subtle undertone of sensuality. I paused, looking at the puzzling name of the sender…
Who is this Roadrunner guy, I wondered? Probably it’s someone with a rock group, maybe a racing team… well; it can't be a damn desert bird! Puzzled, I read the invitation a couple of times and one cryptic phrase caught my eye…
“…of an esoteric nature, in an exclusive and very private location.”
The next thing I did was grab my Webster’s and look-up esoteric. Mmmm… certainly not what I ‘thought’ it meant. Now really intrigued, I glanced up at my calendar… the 14th of July… it fell on a Saturday that year. I gazed at my calendar, my mind started pondering the possibilities… and it was only about three weeks away. I jotted down the location. As the days passed, I was still uncertain, but curiosity began to gnaw at me.
The weekend neared… “at Monterey Bay,” well, it’s probably just some kooky seaside gathering of local artists…
“But what the hell,” I thought to myself, “we need a little vacation anyway.” I didn’t give the wife any details…
Just came up behind Wendy in the kitchen, slipped an arm around her waist and thought about what the invitation implied… and what might happen. Stubbles of my day-old beard caught the gossamer strands of her long blonde hair and she shivered at the touch of my lips against the side of her tender neck. I let the tip of my tongue touch her skin and through a thin summer skirt, the warmth of Wendy's curvy buttocks pressed back against my stomach. I could feel the crack of her ass and my thoughts drifted into a more sordid dimension.
“Sweetheart, let’s just get away for a long weekend,” I whispered into the honeyed scent of her long soft hair.
I was still unconvinced, maybe even a little apprehensive, but we packed a few things for a quick trip out to the west coast. With a sweet flush of innocence on her pretty face, Wendy folded a particular silk blouse into our light travel bag, tucking it in with her bras and panties. There was an alluring fit to that white silk blouse, the way it always clung so deliciously to the shapely contours of her shifting breasts. I'd always loved the way it concealed her adorable curves, yet if one allowed his eyes to linger, it subtly revealed that sweet pinkish pucker of pert nipples…
And my pretty blonde wife wore it the night of the party… it was the one I'd bought for her birthday… exquisitely thin Japanese silk with tiny ivory buttons.
Memories of that long weekend now linger in every molecule of my brain… I remember conspiring with my hostess, hiding close to the bed, down on my knees, peeking through the curtain and secretly watching their image in the big wall mirror… seeing them kiss and seeing the shameful blush on her pretty face. His eyes lingered on her breasts and I felt that sinking sensation in my stomach as he eased his hand out of her bra and opened her blouse… his skillful fingers slipping those little ivory buttons out of the loops.
***********
About an hour earlier I'd been waiting out on the patio, sitting in a far corner, secretly watching them through the open French doors. It was a magical night, stars reflected like chips of diamonds scattered across the shimmering surface of the swimming pool. But the luxurious mansion, the magnificent of Monterey Bay, its night sky, the chirping of mating crickets held little interest. My mind… my soul… my very consciousness dwelled on the milling crowd behind the open doorway.
They were still sitting amongst the elegant party-goers, seemingly the affluent upper crust of west coast society. Cuddling on the sofa, their hands touched and they were whispering softly. Excitement flushed her pink cheeks, while under the shimmer of white silk, another faint hint of color revealed the firmness of my wife's tender nipples. Slowly Wendy turned in his arms… the silk blouse tightened across the swell of her breasts. As she shifted her weight, the movement lifted the round curve of one smooth ass-cheek an inch above the sofa cushion.
My eyes shifted from the curve of Wendy’s buttocks to the up-lift of firm shapely breasts and my pulse quickened as my wife pressed her warm fullness against his chest. With her pouty warm mouth poised for a first kiss, Wendy gazed up at him; fascination glimmered in her deep blue eyes. Staring down into the misty blue of my wife's eyes, his hand slipped around her back and eased under the shimmering strands of long blonde hair. Soft silky hair brushed tantalizingly against his knuckles and under the thin silk blouse, I knew the smooth skin of her back was invitingly warm under his fingertips…
Even in the dim lighting, I could see his hand gradually easing lower, down along her spine, onto the upper swell of her curvy buttocks and I could feel it… the tingle of anxiety starting to creep slowly up the back of my neck. He hugged Wendy firmly, drawing her married warmth into his strong arms. With my wife leaning slightly toward him, his lips lightly brushed her cheek and… palm-up, an inch at a time, his fingers slipped between the sofa cushion and one curvy ass cheek.
Wendy's eyes went wide and there was a breathy gasp as his fingertips began wiggling deeper under her voluptuous backside, feeling through her skirt and panties, inching toward the deep crease between her curvy buttocks… I watched his hands on my wife, his fingers cupped under the sweetly rounded curve of her warm ass and my guts tightened… sweaty tension began seeping out of my pores.
Her pretty face flushed, nervously her hips shifted on the seat cushion, but now my wife was practically sitting on the palm of his hand and his up-turned fingers were pressing the crotch of her panties up against the moist crease of her vagina…
Across the crowded room, no one seemed to care. No one seemed to even notice a handsome young man sitting with his fingers hidden under the hind-end of a pretty blonde girl. And my blushing wife squirmed… little side-to-side wiggles of her buttocks and glanced furtively around the room. I suppose it was just my heated imagination, but with barely noticeable undulations of her hips she seemed to be rubbing her panty crotch against his fingertips. Maybe Wendy was just trying to wiggle away from his fingers, but as her breath quickened, I thought of her warm vaginal fluids, seeping through her thin pubic hairs, through the crotch of her panties, possibly staining the back of her skirt. And I thought of stopping it, of snatching my blushing wife from his grasp, but I sat, ostensibly paralyzed as the moments ticked by.
From out on the patio, unobserved in the shadows, I watched my shy wife twisting nervously in his arms, his fingertips hidden somewhere under the warmth of her wiggling backside and nervous perspiration began to sting at corners of my eyes. And my God, for Monterey Bay, the July night of the party was unusually hot and humid. My shirt seemed glued to my back and the little flurries of salt air drifting inland from the bay did little to dry the sweat.
Squirming in my seat, I saw him suddenly ease his hand out from under my wife's buttocks and lift her to her feet… my breath caught…
Wendy got to her feet with a shamefaced blush on cheeks. She stood long-legged and lovely in her high-heels and while glancing shyly around the room, she smoothed the wrinkles out of the backside of her skirt. Then quickly, before she could move away, he clasped my wife's hand and led her out onto the crowded dance floor. At the edge of the dance floor, he held my pretty wife at arms length and spun her around in a circle and with a twisting swirl of her long golden hair, she landed in the clasp of his arms… and they disappeared amongst the dancers.
And all the while they were dancing… unbeknownst to my innocent Wendy, the seclusion and privacy of a very special bed lay prepared... its satin bedding lay open, awaiting the warm naked loins of my timid wife.
***********
As I write these words, I still feel a twinge of guilt bubbling to the surface, but I'll go on with this shameful confession, this admission of marital betrayal. First I'll go back a bit… tell you how it started…
It was one of those impetuous moments, one or two casual comments and then, as if my common sense had taken wings, bit-by-bit the fanciful words just spilled out of my mouth. And in the next shameful hour, while standing with my pretty hostess under a shimmering night sky, we hatched a secret plot… an audacious scheme wherein this handsome young man would attempt to seduce my bashful wife. And the most shameful part of the scheme was that I would hide nearby… and watch the seduction take place. In the pit of my stomach, guilt chased the fear around in little twisty spirals and as the plan took shape, I remember staring out across the darkened bay and gripping the wrought iron railing with tight nervous fingers…
But in those fateful moments, I allowed my hostess to set the plan into motion… a cunning scheme for another man to hold my precious Wendy in his arms, dance with her and whisper softly in her ears. And should his teasing touches and whispers give rise to opportunity… entice my shy little darling into a hidden room, onto an available bed… and…
And behind a closed door, in the privacy of a quiet room, what might happen… will she allow him to tip her back onto the bed, slip his hand up under her skirt… and make love with her? Within our marriage, the intimate touch of another man remained only an exciting bedtime fantasy, but as the moment neared, the sordid images rippled from my swirling brain and down into my guts. A wash of anticipation welled up in my groin…
And I lived a long sweaty summer night… one that will always lurk among the dark weaving shadows of my mind.
********
Months have passed, back home in Kansas the cold winter rains have come. But still, on many dark nights, while my sweet Wendy sleeps quietly by my side, relentlessly my thoughts drift back to that hot mid-summer night in Monterey.
Virginal outside our marriage, it was her first time with another man and the flickering pictures unfold in my memory… images and high-fidelity recordings of every sound, replay over and over. And it still lives within me, memories of the exquisite groin-tightening pain... and the never to be forgotten, heart-thumping excitement…
Many times I reach under the bed covers and tenderly clasp my sleeping wife's hand, her soft fingers now lie warm and limpid in my hand, but I remember them…those same soft fingers coiled so warmly around his stiffened penis. I can still see the shy blush on her pretty cheeks as those married fingers stroked his penis… it was bone-hard under the sliding skin and I remember her excited blue eyes staring in fascination at the thick pulsing head, tightly swollen, it stood well above the firm clasp of her small fist.
Unbidden, the images float down from the darkened ceiling above our bed…my blushing Wendy resisting the urge, but finally slipping out of her panties and rolling shyly onto her back. Timidly Wendy lifted her skirt and parted her knees, exposing the feathery curls of blondish hair and the glistening seam of her vagina. I remember watching her arms creeping up around his neck, his swollen cock-head parting the wispy blonde hairs and sliding smoothly into the slippery warmth… my wife's spread knees bending back, her up-curving spine allowing one smooth firm thrust to bury the thickly swollen head deep into her little round belly. And the sound of those first shrieking cries… Oh my God those shrieking cries…
And her pearly pink-painted toes… ohhh how they soon began to clench and wiggle above his back. I remember it all… the creaking bed; the soft lighting on my wife's pretty face. And how could I ever forget the groans and whimpers or the fleeting glint of Wendy's gold wedding band as her sharp nails cut into the skin of his naked back?
Spread under him, toes clenched, nail scratches on his back… when those fleeting shadows drifted hauntingly down out of the dark; unconsciously I gently pressed her sleeping hand. I held the soft warm fingers that once clasped so tightly against the strong back of another man. On the other pillow, my wife's lovely blonde head stirred… her sleep disturbed, long dark eyelashes fluttered and for several moments the sound of her breathing changed. But I just held her soft warm hand as she slipped quietly back into her dreams and I looked down at her pretty face. I love to watch this beautiful female creature sleeping, see the errant strands of long blonde hair spilling across her cheek and listen to her breathing softly through sweetly parted pink lips. While her puffy little breaths stirred the thin strands of honey-colored hair, I tipped my head back and thought how much I love this woman… how I'll always love her, how she'll be my sweetheart forever.
So there are nights, when after we've made love, I lay staring up into the dark and my thoughts drift back to Monterey… hiding behind the curtain, watching and listening to the sound of my wife making love with another man. And I let the warm memories fill my mind… and when my mind is full, the memories spill over into little shivery sensations that trickle down my spine and settle into the pit of my stomach. As I hold Wendy's sleeping hand in mine; sometimes I feel her squeeze back, a little dreamy squeeze as her fingers curl around mine. Then I slip over onto her pillow and burrow my face into the fragrance of her soft blonde hair and while I feel her breathing softly against my cheek… I let the haunting memory unfold and I listen to it…
I listen to the sound of that hot summer night in Monterey, the sound of the bed… the way the slight creak of flexing bed-springs mingled so tellingly with my little darling’s moans and piercing cries…
But now, with a cold winter rain pattering on our roof, she’s resting quietly by my side, safe in my arms, all sleepy soft and warm… a faint touch of her sweet fragrance drifting up from under the blankets. And sometimes I gently lift and release the blankets and as the bed-covers settle back down around her sleeping body that little puff of sweet female scent wafts up against my face… the heady aroma of warm female skin, a touch of perfume and the faint scent of her warm loins. We all know it… we all love it, that wondrously intoxicating scent of a woman that lingers so delightfully in our bedding, on our pillows… and in all our minds.
Less than an hour ago we made love, but many times, helpless with my love for her and weak with need, I crawl back between Wendy's long bare legs and nudge her knees apart. When she feels me settling between her thighs and the head of my penis snuggles into the moist curly hairs, she begins to awaken, hips shift a little and her knees begin to draw back. My wife's inner thighs are smooth, the silky skin warm against my hips… then those long dark eyelashes flutter, sleepy blue eyes squint open and she murmurs…
“Ohh darling… you want to… again?”
In a slow sleepy move, her fingers ease down between us and she lifts the soft cotton nightie above her dainty belly button and I feel Wendy's smooth bare stomach snuggling up against mine. My wife slants her loins, slick and gluey, the encompassing female warmth slides over me… the head of my penis pushing fully into the clinging pink slipperiness. “Ohhh darling,” she whispers… “I love doing it… and doing it… and doing it…”
And so, beneath the warm sheltering blankets of our marriage bed, lost in the erotic memory of a night long passed, I make love to her again… tender sleepy-love.
***********
Well, my readers, of course you also love your wives, you love them deeply, but have you ever thought of what it would be like… to peek through a curtain or quietly sneak up to a closed door and listen to your little darling wife … listen to the mother of your children making love with another man... hear the bed creaking and her little breathy gasps?
Now don't pretend you've never toyed with the scary thought of your wife with another man… don't deny it even to yourself! Because if you've read this far, I know the tantalizing image has been sneaking up into your mind!
That said, and when ‘its’ coming close and she starts to groan, do you ever wonder if your fists would clench and every muscle go tight? How about when your wife begins to orgasm and that crazed butterfly starts darting about in your stomach? And the sound of her whimpers… ohhh yes, those simpering cries would send a thousand tiny wings fluttering around the lining of your tense belly. So can you imagine the raw feeling, the warmth spreading into your groin… the tingling sensation crawling up along your spine?
Well my readers, the following chapters will tell such a story… a very long and titillating exploration into the psychology of wife-sharing and that curious impulse to let it happen. It’s a meandering tale of raw human emotion, the exquisite thrill of planning it, the ensuing anxiety of watching helplessly as the undoable act takes place… And of course, there’s the rise of heart thumping excitement as her arms begin to curl around his neck, clenched toes creep higher over his back and her first fearful whimpers become pleading cries of passion.
So if you dare, read on, travel with me deeper into this twisty maelstrom of emotion… maybe even bring your bashful wife along… that little sweetheart you love so dearly. But beware, if your sweet wife slips into the narrow darkness of my hiding place and shares lingering peeks through the mystical curtain, her innocent mind may begin to dwell on the image of being naked in the arms of a strong handsome guy… another man’s long stiff penis thrusting smoothly into her tense belly. She may begin to ponder the thought of her pretty head bouncing on the pillows of your creaking marriage bed while you lean close and stare anxiously into her glazed eyes… she may want to learn the sweaty feeling of your clasping hand… your nervous breath against her flaming cheek.
Well it’s going to be a long journey, but if you bring her along into this swirling pit of emotion, hold the little darling’s left hand and toy with her wedding band while I turn that crazed butterfly loose, I'll just let it flit about, randomly banging its head into the tender lining of your stomachs until you both feel the shivering tingle of its wings way down in your queasy bowels…
**********
To be continued in (Chapter 2)
B.W.B.