Some New Wives Say ‘I Do’ To Other Men, As Well (Part 1)
Editor’s note: This post by Staci is a work of fiction.
I first met Rico when I was 21. I was newly married at the time, and my husband invited him over after work one day for dinner. This was pretty common, my husband inviting over coworkers, and it was interesting to meet the men he worked with. All solidly built guys in their 20s, wearing tight Levis and dusty workbooks, their callused hands engulfing mine with a warm, sturdy handshake and the kind of grin that told me, in a very private way, that they liked what they saw.
Men didn’t just come over for my culinary skills; after meeting me, I’d catch them sneaking a peek at how tiny my waist was or gazing down toward my full hips and undeniably spankable ass, perfectly framed in my own tight skirt. Blushing when I’d pull up my shirt, revealing generous breasts, aching and full of milk, I excused myself from the table to sit at the couch and nurse my newest child. I’d look up, catch their eyes, before fluttering my lashes at them, as if I wasn’t sure of what I was doing. I’d toss back my hair so they’d get a better, uninterrupted look at the tits I had to offer. Big, full D cups. None of them seemed to mind that I was bossy; my long red hair told them everything they needed to know.
I used to try to lure each one of them into confessing their desire for me, in one way or another, while my husband was in the other room. It was a game I played, using my sex appeal to elicit all the extra attention I needed. I would tempt these hard-bodied men, knowing that they’d leave my house with blue balls, occasionally catching one jerking off in his pickup truck while spying on them from my kitchen window before they headed home.
I would see their erections silhouetted against their thighs, feeling it press against me as I hugged them goodnight, moving my body just enough to give them a taste, a tease, a playful scratch down their back.
It always turned me on to know that they’d have to greet my husband with smiles and handshakes the next morning at work, knowing they’d each be harboring a sinful lust for me. Hiding those feelings of guilt about wanting to betray the trust of their friendship to have one night with me. My husband was, of course, oblivious to the nature of the games I played. Oblivious to the fact that I’d fantasize about fucking his boss or his buddy while I laid there under him, even as he fucked me as hard as he could and I pretended to cum for him.
But the evening he brought over Rico – that was game over. He was different than my husband’s other coworkers. He strutted in, with an air of rugged confidence. He wore the tightest Wranglers and crocodile cowboy boots, with an ass that made my mouth water. Yum.
Rico was perfectly groomed, black hair slicked back, mustache trimmed to frame perfect lips that promised he’d kiss every inch of my body as his dark eyes looked me over before gazing into mine. He’d held me there with his eyes alone, entranced all night, longing to feel his muscular body pressed against mine. Insistent, constant, my pussy watering so much I kept checking myself to be sure nobody else could see inside my skirt I was completely drenched!
Coming next week: Part 2!
Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash
