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“You’re going out again?”
Mario’s voice was aggrieved. Steph paused and turning, looked at her husband as he sprawled in his favourite chair, the TV remote clutched in one hand.
“You know that Gabrielle and I have the book club tonight!” she answered, her slender arms reaching up to thrust a pin in the piled hair.
“That’s three nights this week – you’re never home!”
Steph stopped fussing and turned to Mario. A pang of guilt arrowed through her as she took in his plaintive expression. He really had been sweet about all the time she was spending away from home and in view of the fact that he wasn’t used to her being out and about all the time, he had been remarkably patient. She felt even guiltier as she thought how angry and yes – she admitted to herself – devastated, he would be if he knew how she was really spending that time.
Hair tousled and still damp, Mario’s curls sprang about his head, framing the strong features. Shirtless from the shower he always took the moment he got home (construction work being hot, dirty and exhausting work), his chest was heavily muscled and broad, curly black hair trailing from the hard nub of his nipples in a line, disappearing into the tight jeans which hugged his narrow hips and outlined the strong thighs.
Looking at him, Steph felt a frisson of affection and as her eyes following the trail of hair to the flat belly, an arrow of lust swept through her. It had been some time since she and Mario had had sex and although her knees even now went weak, thinking of Gaby’s soft mouth between her thighs, the thought of her husband’s thick prick was making her nipples harden.
For a moment, confusion raced through her – did she love Gaby? Did she love Mario? The problem was, she thought unhappily, she loved them both.
Other than his distaste for her unusual wetness, Mario was a loving husband. Not only did he spoil her materially but he was always making spontaneous sweet gestures like bringing home a huge bouquet of spring flowers or sweeping her up when he finished work and treating her to a romantic dinner. He gave her a generous allowance and never questioned how much she spent on the house.
Mario was proud of his pretty, clever wife and had proved to be a stalwart defender when her mother in law and even her own mother pressured her to get pregnant. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children, just not now. She knew she should be far more appreciative of his forbearance for many of her contemporaries were working on their second and third children while she was allowed to exercise her creative bent in decorating.
And, she thought truthfully to herself – she did love that beautiful prick – there was something about the way that hard length felt between her legs, pushing up into her … Steph shivered, her nipples hardening.
Watching her, Mario watched a myriad of expressions cross his wife’s expressive face. For a moment, he saw her anew – and was suddenly struck by how wonderful she looked. A conservative dresser for most of the time he had known her, he wondered when she had started to change.
He watched as Steph studied her image in the hall mirror, pulling a curl out here, pinning one up there. Her posture pulled her heavy breasts up and Mario noted the way they almost spilled out of the low necked sweater which clung to their full, swollen orbs. He frowned. That top was awfully tight he thought to himself. Her skirt, a short, flippy denim barely brushed the top of her taut thighs and her legs looked long and shapely.
His prick stirred. Construction season was largely seasonal and he had to take the work when he could get it. Working 14 hour days sometimes, he had been coming home, showering, eating and falling into bed in a haze of exhaustion. Torrential rain and high winds had cut short his work day and he had arrived home unusually early for this season. Relatively rested, he started feeling quite aroused as he watched his very sexy wife getting ready.
“Steph…”. Mario said wheedling.
“Do you have to go out tonight?”
Steph paused. She felt bad as she saw his hopeful face,. Glancing at her watch, she saw she was, as usual, early. Looking at him, Steph thought he looked rather adorable and again, felt a twitching between her legs. She really had been neglecting him, she thought.
Already aroused in anticipation of Gaby’s expert ministrations, Steph looked at her handsome husband and decided she had more than enough time to indulge.
Dropping her purse, Steph smiled, a long slow seductive smile that startled Mario at the same time as it aroused him. Clicking on 4inch heels, she strutted to her husband, breasts jouncing in their skimpy bra, hips swishing. Falling to her knees, she pushed his thick muscled legs apart, running her hands along their strong length and looking up into his dark brown eyes, now growing hot as she nestled between his legs.
Leaning into him, she closed her eyes and rubbed her face lightly against the bulge in his pants, breathing in the musky male Demetevler Escort scent, so different from Gaby’s uniquely feminine odour. Under the skimpy shirt, her nipples hardened, an atavistic reaction to male testosterone.
Beneath her soft cheek, she felt the heavy prick stir.
Turning her face, Steph placed her lips against the length of his prick, breathing warm breath along its twitching breadth,
Mario sighed, leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, his prick starting to throb and thicken as he anticipated his wife’s ministrations. In the conservative culture from which they both sprang, fellatio was not considered something “nice” girls did – when Mario discovered that not only was Steph willing but also was eager, he felt he had truly lucked into the bridal lottery.
Steph rubbed her lips along the burgeoning length of her husband’s prick, feeling the moist warmth through the material of his pants. Extending a pink tongue, she licked along the zipper, making the aroused man jump. He could feel her warm moist breath even through the stuff of the jeans.
Expertly, Steph unzipped and unbuttoned. As she unclasped the last button, the spongy moist tip of Mario’s prick, laying stiff now against his belly, peaked out, a drool of clear liquid dribbling from its winking tip.
Licking her lips, feeling a tugging in her groin, Steph reached in, pulling the stiff length free of its constricting underwear.
Holding it tight at the base, Steph studied Mario’s prick, her breath shortening as she took in its swollen girth. Although not particularly long, his prick was thick and pale against the tanned expanse of skin, blue veins snaking under delicate translucent skin, the crimson head bulging and mushroom shaped. It looked, she mused, absolutely delicious.
Taking a deep breath, Steph leaned forward, pressing her warm heavy breasts into Mario’s legs and with a smooth, practiced motion, sank her warm mouth down the length of prick.
Mario groaned as her warm, hot throat clasped his cock in a sweet, tight vice. Involuntarily, his narrow hips jerked, pushing his prick deeper.
Holding the base tightly, rubbing her hand up and down the velvety smooth skin in tandem with her mouth, Steph felt herself getting wet. The smell, that rich, yeasty pungent aroma – so different from the lighter, more astringent smell of Gaby and so familiar – for so many years she had been associating that smell with equally delicious sex.
The feel of him in her mouth, the gristly muscle beneath its velvet skin, the spongy drooling head, the tart flavour of precum dripping down her throat. She gagged slightly as Mario’s hips began to push harder into her mouth, stretching even her generous lips and making her breathe strongly through her nose, her throat blocked with burgeoning prick.
Steph closed her eyes, pushing her breasts against Mario’s muscled thighs each time she sank her mouth down to encompass that beautiful prick to its base. She breathed through her nose to enable her to suck the entire length in her generous mouth. As her arousal increased, Steph’s rhythm grew more regular and beneath her expert ministrations, her husband’s narrow hips began to tremble and tighten.
Mario’s breath was harsh now. Unbidden, his hands went to the dark curls, tangling in their ebony silken length and pressing down on the warm skull, pushing that delicious mouth even further down his throbbing cock.
“Oh God, baby, keep going, keep going!”
The sound of his voice, harsh and masculine made Steph moan around the pumping cock stuffing her mouth. Unable to help herself, she cupped one of her breasts, squeezing its heavy plump weight.
Mario suddenly began groaning, his hands tightened almost painfully on her curls and suddenly, with a long hiss, he shoved his cock as deep as he could within its warm prison. A long hot spurt of sperm hit the back of Steph’s throat, almost causing her to gag. Thick and viscous, it filled her mouth as his jerking prick began to empty its load onto her willing tongue. Spurt after spurt filled her warm mouth, until, choking and laughing, she pulled back, hot, glistening cum trailing down the corners of her mobile mouth and dribbling from the sensuous full lower lip.
Holding his still throbbing cock, Steph watched as the last remnants dribbled from the tip of the swollen prick, swallowing her delicious mouthful. Then leaning down, she swept her long pink tongue up the length of the rapidly softening member, sipping up the remainder of the offering.
Then with the tip of her tongue, she licked around her own lips. Standing and placing Mario’s prick tenderly across the strong thigh, she smiled affectionately at her husband. Mario grinned up at her, his eyes still a bit glazed. Reaching for her hand, he kissed her palm and then her wrist.
Feeling a wellspring of affection, Steph leaned forward to kiss his lips. Mario winced as her mouth came near and Steph realized that Otele Gelen Escort he was repulsed by the thought of kissing her with remnants of his own cum on her lips. Unbidden, she thought of Gaby, her mouth wet and glistening, rising up from between her legs to meet Steph’s lips with a long clinging, loving meshing of tongues..
Steph felt sad. Sighing, forcing a smile, she sketched a wave, grabbed her purse and walked briskly to the door. Mario, satiated, turned to the European football now on,
Worried, Gaby glanced at her watch.
Steph was NEVER late. In fact, she was as Gaby termed it “anally time obsessed” and was always at least 20 minutes early. Thus, while Steph was only 10 minutes late, that was so unlike her, Gaby started fretting about possible car accidents. Her heart constricted at the thought of her beautiful girl hurt or frightened. The club was loud and raucous, and the music pounded in her ears, distracting and irritating whereas when she had first come in, it had sounded upbeat and seductive.
Brushing the straight blond fringe to one side, she tapped her fingers nervously on the table top. Around her, the predominantly female crowd in this very lesbian oriented club swayed and danced to the music. At the booth beside her, a striking black girl, hair exotic in tightly bound corn rows and with high pointed breasts, was passionately locked in an embrace with a tiny Asian girl dressed flirtily in a school girl kilt and demure white blouse. As Gaby watched, almost blindly, the black girl’s long beautiful hand pulled the blouse out from the waist and snaked up to cup the small childish breast of her lover.
Gaby’s head snapped up and across the room, she saw her sweetie waving madly, laughing as she tried to negotiate her way across the crowded dance floor without bumping into too many bodies.
A spear of jealousy when through her as she saw a pretty redhead turn to Steph, and obviously drunk, pull that dark-haired head toward her for a passionate kiss. Gaby watched as the redhead’s hand snaked up and grasped the swollen breast of her lover, squeezing its delectable weight.
Before Gaby could get up and create a scene, Steph broke away and laughingly patting the girl’s face, made her way to Gaby, grimacing humorously as she neared.
“God, – that girl was sooooo drunk!” she said laughing.
“Well, you didn’t look too unhappy.” Gaby said icily.
Leaning over, Steph pulled the blonde’s head to her and soft lips met hers in a clinging, loving kiss. Weakening, Gaby stood, pulling the girl to her, her arms going possessively around the small, sexy body. The kiss deepened and Gaby used her experienced tongue to probe between Steph’s lips. As she closed her eyes and tangled her tongue with her lover’s, she suddenly tasted something she hadn’t tasted before in her lover’s mouth.
“What’s that?” she said, with a forced laugh, jealousy squirming in her breast.
“I know what that tastes like!”
Steph flushed crimson as Gaby laughed at her. Before she could pull away, Gaby leaned down, her long mobile mouth capturing Steph’s. Holding tightly to her, pressing her own small firm breasts against Steph’s more generous bounty, Gaby leisurely explored the moist mouth, tasting the remnants of tangy sperm that clung there. Possessively, she swept her own tongue around that warm moist cavern, ridding the sensitive palette of the male detritus, and in the process, leaving her own sweet smelling mark.
“So that’s why you’re late.” Gaby said.
“I’m sorry, sweet one! But he looked so unhappy … and I’ve been out so much this week and I was afraid if I didn’t do something he would make me stay in … and how …”
“It’s ok, really, it’s ok!”
Gaby took Steph’s head between her hands, her blue eyes serious as she captured her friend’s big brown gaze, now worried and frightened. Gaby knew she had to play this carefully. Steph was only now beginning to bloom. Constrained and caught by a culture that taught restraint and discouraged anything out of the status quo, Steph had already taken a giant step away from her beginnings. Gaby couldn’t bear to lose her now if conscience and strictures taught and drummed into her as a child emerged victorious.
Gently, she shook the girl’s head.
“Silly thing! It’s not as if I didn’t know you weren’t married! I certainly assumed you would continue to have sex with your husband –whether because you wanted to or to keep him quiet – it didn’t matter – I knew it would happen!”
“Look, Steph, I KNOW you have to fuck your husband! It’s not as if I find that repugnant or anything – I mean I have been known to have a cock or two in my day!”
Surprised, Steph’s gaze widened.
“Don’t look so shocked! Nothing wrong with a stiff prick once in a while – bottom line is I love women best and all my serious relationships have been with girls, but sometimes its fun to swing Balgat Escort the other way too!”
“Wanna dance, doll?”
The inebriated redhead, face blurred with drink, large sagging breasts barely contained in a skimpy halter, ran her hand along the plump globes of Steph’s bottom.
“Butt out, sweetie – she is taken!” Gaby said firmly.
Turning to Steph, Gaby grabbed her hand.
“Do you want to stay here? Or shall we go back to my place?” she asked.
Steph, busy removing the redhead’s hand yet again from her shapely derriere, nodded.
“Yeah, I think it might be safer,” she said, grinning.
Hand in the hand, the two girls made their escape into the sweetness of a spring evening.
Dusk had fallen in soft folds of midnight lace, soft and sweet, the air dreamed of lilac and lily of the valley, blooming under budding beginning green trees and the shy, painfully beautiful freshness of plants awakening from winter’s rest.
Hand in hand, they strolled streets now busy with people seeking the solace of renewal, winter worn faces pale and hopeful as spring wrought its magic in tired eyes and awakening limbs.
Steph sighed. The air was fresh after the rain earlier in the day and taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs. A sense of freedom held her in thrall for just a moment in time – holding her friend’s hand, strolling through the eclectic, quirky district of Queen West, Steph felt as if she had awoken from a long sleep.
Key in hand, Gaby opened the door into a riot of colour and warmth. For a moment, she paused, struck anew in what a difference this small person was making in her life. An inveterate and unapologetic home renovation addict, Steph had begun first surreptitiously, then more overtly to transform Gaby’s former serviceable but uninspired flat into a haven of warmth, colour and uniqueness.
Gaby was an inspired buyer for her lingerie store; with an instinctive appreciation of fine fabrics, shape and form which left every figure type seductive. Colours for flesh she understood – the tones that enhanced a cool olive, the rich tones which warmed pale white. , Fabric she understood with a knowledge and insight garnered from years of experience and an instinct that seldom steered her wrong – from rich brocades to innocent cottons, she had an unerring eye. But there her creativity ended – for her, her flat was simply a place she slept and restless Gaby was usually out and about.
Things had changed when Steph had come along.
Gaby hadn’t planned that – she had intended a quick affair. Captivated and aroused by both the beauty and innocence of this pretty brunette, she had been caught unawares and in the quest for seduction had found herself reluctantly and unexpectedly charmed and captivated. Discovering and encouraging Steph’s shy wit and sharp intelligence had been immensely provocative. Coupled with the overwhelming physical attraction she felt every time she looked at Steph, Gaby found herself starting to plan her time off around Steph’s limited availability. She had watched indulgently when Steph’s normal reticence had given way to confidence and even bossiness when she saw that Gaby had no objection to her redecorating schemes.
Noting that Gaby had no interest and was simply indulgent with her inveterate decorating, Steph had gone to town. Released from the strictures of satin couches, plastic covered lamps and elaborate poufy window treatments common and considered the epitome of style in her own culture, Steph had indulged her passionate love of colour and texture.
Flea market finds like a rickety chair, were stripped and painted a rustic, soft blue; vibrant curtains, flowing and airy, hung at sparkling windows, eclectic and unusually shaped cushions now softened the big couch, while medieval tapestries she had made with bargain basement fabric and Home Depot wooden spools decorated terra cotta walls. The whole effect was utterly charming, warm, vibrant and welcoming with a quirky, offbeat charm that had Gaby’s friends asking her who her decorator was.
Kicking off her heels, Gaby sighed with relief and sank onto the welcoming settee, throwing long, lean legs up on a wide seat strewn with cushions. Leaning forward, she grabbed Steph’s hand and pulled her down in front of her, pushing the narrow shoulders until Steph, capitulating, leaned against her..
“The thing is, I know you love your husband. I’m willing to share – I mean, it’s not like I have a choice.”
Still talking, Gaby pulled at Steph’s jacket until the small brunette, curls dishevelled and sexy sat forward, allowing Gaby to pull it off her slender arms.
Leaning back, Steph closed her eyes. Gaby felt good against her back, the small firm breasts pressing into the sweep of skin, Gaby’s firm shoulder comforting against her curls, the long, gorgeous legs cupping her own shapely curves in sweet restraint.
Gaby’s hands, tender and delicate as a butterfly, ran long mobile fingers along the slope of narrow shoulders and down the thin curve of waist, pausing for a moment, to encircle and caress the slightly rounded firm belly and then sweeping up to barely touch the heavy underside of generous breasts.
Her voice soothing and comforting, Gaby’s clever hands barely touched Steph’s breasts, running delicate fingers along swollen mounds and never touching the hardening nub of distended nipples.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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