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From: "First Name Last Name" <marchase@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Betty's House 3/3, a hot wife story by Marc
Date: Sat, 13 Jan 2001 13:10:03 -0500
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her covered belly on his face.

He pulled back, said something.

Betty, looking down at him, nodded agreement. She moved back 
a step, and reached for the robe's belt.

Now she was looking at him as she untied it, and let go of the 
ends.

They fell to the side, and the robe itself started to open, hanging 
now from her shoulders.

Her hands moved to her shoulders, and pushed, so that the robe 
fell away, now held only by the sleeves at her elbows.

She dropped her hands, and the robe slid off.

I felt as thought Mike Tyson landed a punch on my own belly -- I 
had no breath at all, as I looked at her, 

at him.

He reached for her hips again, pulled her close again, his lips 
found her stomach again, but this time his hands were on her 
buttocks, pulling her closer to him.

She, again, was holding his head against her, this time with her 
back arched back, pelvis thrust forward, welcoming his mouth, 
his attention. The satin dressing gown/negligee was pulled 
pressed against her breasts, and her nipples interrupted its 
smooth appearance, evidence that she was aroused, too.

Seconds, minutes went by, long enough to sear into my memory 
that exquisite scene, until, finally, Hans moved his hands to her 
hips, and moved her a little away from him. I could see the 
dressing gown was wet from his mouth, wet over her belly, wet 
from his kisses, his tongue.

Betty reached for, took his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

Hand in hand them moved toward the hall leading to the 
bedroom. Somehow, I was able to move, too, and watched as 
they entered the room where the final steps would be taken, 
where voyeurism, and cockeyed cockuldness, and hot wifing 
would all come true.

Betty moved to one side of the bed, and motioned Hans to the  
other. Together they folded the bedcover back, uncovering the 
playground, the stage for the next act.

My view was from the side of the bed. Hans sat on the bed's 
edge, his back to me.  Betty knelt before him. She was busy at 
something, then I saw her lift on of his shoes, and drop it. She 
repeated that with the other one.

Then one sock, then a second  one.

Hans sat up, releasing his shirt cuffs, while Betty seemed to be 
working on the buttons, pulling the shirt free of his slacks.

He cooperated, and pulled it off, and sat there, his bare back to 
me, his chest toward her.

He stood, got his belt open, and pushed his slacks off.

Oh hell, he was wearing sexy bikini style briefs! They didn't do 
much to conceal the bulge there, the bulge he wanted -- the 
bulge we all wanted -- to use on Betty -- IN Betty.

He lay back on the bed, on his side, looking away from me, at 
my wife. She stepped toward the bed, toward him, until he made 
a gesture, and said something.

That stopped her. What did he want? What was going on?

She took a step away, turned, faced him, looking at him as he 
lay there, one hand stoking his crotch. He said something again.

Betty nodded acceptance.

She raised her eyes, looked over him, at the window where I 
was, took a deep breath, exhaled.

She reached across her chest, pushed a strap off her shoulder, 
and down her arm. Holding the garment up with one hand, she 
pulled her arm free of the strap.

Again she looked from him up towards me, and she repeated the 
exercise on the other side, and stood before this man holding 
onto the satin garment that had been cocooning her  protecting 
her, covering herself.

He made a motion with his hand, from high to low.

I understood.

Betty understood, too.

Her hands moved lower, carrying the shroud of a night dress 
with them.

There was the swoop, that wonderful slope of the top of her 
breasts, then most of the top was exposed, and her hands 
moved fractionally lower, and this nipple, and that one, were on 
view, then her entire breasts, and lower still, until her belly was 
exposed too, and then that dark hair that marked the top of her 
pelvis, then more hair, and finally her hands were at her sides, 
mid thigh, holding the gown in a swoop to her knees, fully 
exposed.

He said something else. There was another deep breath then  
she opened her hands. The clothe wafted down,  it fell to her 
feet, and she stepped out of it, over it, nude, towards him. 

He rolled onto his back, fully in control, put his hands behind his 
head, and said something else. 

Betty nodded, got on the bed, and knelt at his feet. She leaned 
toward him, reached along his legs to his hips, and her hands 
closed on the side of his briefs.

He lifted his hips, bridging, and she pulled, exposing hair, then 
cock.

What a sight, what a scene to be watched from the side, as she 
bent over him, doing that, then as she straightened up, pulling 
more, as he let his hips drop to the bed, and lifted his legs.

She finished her task.

They were both nude.

He reached for her, and she leaned toward him, moving to lay 
on top of him.

No, that wasn't what he wanted.

He pulled at her legs, positioning her, until she was kneeling 
astride him, at about his belly.

I was sure he wanted her to ride him, that he'd put her over that 
cock, and shove it into her. I wanted that, too!

No! He pulled at her hips, pulling her up along his body, then 
moved again so his arms were under her thighs, and he now 
pushed at her from behind, forcing her higher still, until her 
pelvis was at his chin.

Betty had to support herself, her hands on the head board, as 
he wrapped his own arms over her legs until his hands met at 
her pelvis.

It looked like he was opening her, spreading her, then I was sure 
of it because he pulled her up a little move, and tilted his head 
toward her pelvis, and even though the closed window I heard 
her cry out a long "Oooohhh", and I knew what was happening, I 
knew his mouth was on her vagina, that his tongue was having 
its way with her vaginal pocket, with her clit. I knew it because 
she was thrusting her hips at him, her back an arc of ecstasy.

His own penis was erect, isolate, standing there, no attention 
being paid to it, as he worked on her, driving her, and me, crazy.

Then he stopped, and began changing positions on the bed, 
moving lower, towards its center. He pushed and pulled at her, 
until she was again astride his head, but facing his cock.

His hands were once again around her, he was once again 
going down - or in this case, maybe going up is more correct - 
on her.

Betty leaned forward, her hands met at his own pelvis, and I saw 
her lips kiss at the tip of his penis.

He let go of her legs, stopped spreading her, and reached 
between them as well. One of his hands took his cock, and the 
other reached behind her head, and pushed her towards it.

He used his lower hand to find her mouth - I saw her kiss at his 
fingers, accept them in her mouth, then lower that last inch, and 
accept his penis there, too.

It turned into a classic 69, each being satisfied, and satisfying 
the other. And me.

At last, they stopped, he rolled both of them over so that he was 
in the superior position.

He turned, kneeling between her legs, then extended himself 
over her, cloaking her.

I watched from the window as he looked between the two of 
them, in a classic push-up position, his cock pointing at her. 

He said something, and she looked too, and reached between 
them, taking him, it, in one hand. I saw her legs move more 
apart, I saw her hips rotate, saw her look as he lowered himself, 
saw her lift, saw both of her hands now move down there, flat on 
her pelvis, I was sure opening herself for him, but I could still 
see that rod reaching toward her, then grow shorter as he 
lowered himself, until there was no space at all between them, 
until they were connected, until the deed was done, a different 
man's cock was in her, a different man's pubic hair was pushing 
against hers -- it was done!

His hips started that exotic cycle, moving up, rotating, revealing 
a now gleaming shaft, making it clear there had been  no 
resistance, no physical resistance, no psychological resistance, 
to his cock being in her, fucking her.

He moved, and she did, too, lifting to meet him, pulling away as 
he did, augmenting his own movements, 

fucking him as he fucked her.

I suddenly realized her head was turned to the side, he was 
kissing at her ear, and she was looking at where I was. There 
was a trace of smile on her face as her knees bent to cradle his 
hips, as she rolled her pelvis up to meet that incoming cock!

Of the three of us, I came first, I couldn't help it.

Hans was next, a few seconds later. Body language made it 
clear he was pushing in her as deeply as he could, every instinct 
in him trying to push sperm in as far as it could go.

He withdrew, finally, and lay beside my wife, flaccid now, but still 
attentive. He was fingering her, talking to her, masturbating her, 
until finally her body had its spasm, too, her hips lifted, she 
grabbed at the hand doing magic to her, pushing the fingers 
deeper into her, and at last sagged back, spent.

They were done.

Hans reached down to pull a sheet up over them, but it was too 
late to cover anything.

I saw that there was a conversation going on, and learned later 
Hans was asking if he could stay the night.

He didn't object too strongly when Betty rejected that idea. A few 
minutes later he sat up, and she did too. She retrieved the robe, 
shrugged her shoulders into it, started to wrap it around her 
when Hans said something. Betty laughed, and stopped 
wrapping it, let it hang open, let her breasts and groin exposed.

Hans had dressed, went to her, embraced her, and she him, 
then he half turned her in that classic pose, the woman being 
held up, tilted way over on her back, as he kissed her.

The kiss went on, but now he was holding her with only one arm, 
the other found a breast to grope, then traced down her body, 
until his fingers were over her vagina, then in it.

The kiss continued, lips doing one thing, she was holding on to 
support herself while his fingers poked and prodded where his 
cock poked and prodded only a little while ago.

Her hand covered his, the one that masturbating her, until I saw 
him change his grip, and instead of putting his own fingers 
there, he moved hers there, too.

At last he lifted her upright again, said something else.

He offered her his fingers, the fingers that were wet with her, 
and with him, just as we had done a few days before. She 
moved her own hand, also wet, to his lips.

That was the  last bit of erotic sights: her mouth opened, and his 
did too, each accepting the other's fingers, accepting their joint 
juices, their mutual flavors.

A moment later, they parted.

I heard a door close, and a few seconds later a car door shut. 
An engine started, and a car made going away noises. By then I 
had gone to living room sliding glass doors, and entered the 
house. 

I heard Betty's voice from the bedroom: "Where are you, Bruce? 
Come in, come to me."

I went in, almost at a trot, and she turned to me, the robe still 
open, her pubic hair matted, looking flushed, looking a little 
worried.

"Are you all right, is that what you wanted?"

I had smothered the last words with my lips, proving it was what 
I wanted.

I felt her hand on my cheek, she lifted my head away from her, 
so she could look into my eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Are you?" I needed to know she was.

"Yes, sure, but you're the one who was cockeyed, or whatever. . 
."

Her hand on my cheek felt wet - it was that hand, the hand that, 
the hand he held, the one who's fingers were in her, the one wet 
with both of them.

I turned my head, so that my lips were against her fingers.

"I'm very all right," I said, those fingers moving on my lips as I 
spoke.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded my head. 

I had thought the final bit of erotic behavior happened earlier, 
when they kissed good-bye, was when those fingers on my lips 
were in his mouth.

That wasn't true.

It happened now.

It happened because I opened my lips, my mouth, too.

And took in those same fingers, and tasted that same flavor, his 
flavor, and hers!

"I'm completely all right," I said, my words partly muffled by her 
hand, while I was tasting things I had never ever tasted before.

"Completely all right."

And we were on the bed, mingling perspiration, and saliva, and 
lubricating secretions, and sperm, proving how all right I was.

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Comments are welcome.

Marc


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