The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

about his condo in Mexico, offered up another story about his ex-wife involving a drunk pilot, and Marci shared a couple dating nightmare anecdotes that were indeed funny, including one about a “pencil dick” disappointment that also featured premature ejaculation.

Within twenty minutes there was no sign of steak or shrimp on the premises, it having all been hungrily consumed. Greg expressed the need for a rest break. By now his cock was behaving. He walked without embarrassment into the house to use the bathroom. This gave the remaining three of us a chance to speak alone. We’d finished several bottles of wine by this point which, along with the daiquiris and margaritas, meant we were pretty loosened up.

Not that Marci needed loosening up to say what was on her mind.

“Jesus, Susan,” she said. “Wow. Nice catch!”

“I’m right here, Marci,” I said.

“Oh, no offense, Ryan!” she said, not really worried she’d hurt my feelings. “I mean, come on, he’s gorgeous and nice!”

Susan just smiled, which I felt was a prudent move, seeing as how I was in fact right there.

“I don’t know about the cock situation, though,” Marci continued. “I mean, do you think can handle that thing?” She laughed.

“I’m still right here, Marci,” I said again.

I admit I was curious to know what Susan felt about his cock though she may have viewed my look as being of the anxious variety.

“Honey,” said Susan. “That sort of thing doesn’t matter. Anyway, I know he looks big, but they say it’s what they do with it that counts, right? You always hit all the right spots, Ryan. You know me so well.”

This was perhaps the oddest conversation I’d ever had. In the next several hours or less the cock in question would be inside my wife, and she was openly speculating about what he would be doing with it—hitting or not hitting the right spots in my wife’s vagina—though under these circumstances “pussy” was probably the better word.

“That’s right,” said Marci. “I’ve had big cocks that were duds, and aside from the pencil-dick guy, smallish cocks that were miraculous. You never know.”

Regardless, I was feeling a little envious of Greg’s, but pushed it out of my mind. Marci and I cleaned up the deck from our meal, various potty stops were made, and by the time we all returned the sun had firmly set and perhaps an hour of twilight remained.

Susan and Greg again assumed prone positions on the lounger. I wasn’t sure how they’d gotten dibs. She was on her back and Greg was on his side. He was fondling Susan’s breasts and didn’t stop when Marci and I resumed our seats. Seeing Susan’s breasts in Greg’s hands meant all of my neurons were now involved in processing the situation.

Marci leaned over and kissed me, then dropped her hand to my cock. It was already responding to the situation unfolding in front of us, this spectacle of my wife being fondled by our neighbor. My head was back to spinning. I wanted to jump Susan and make love to her, but also pull Marci on top of me and make love to her too.

At no prior point in my life was I as erotically charged or more in the moment. I wanted to savor it. We all knew where the evening was headed. Why rush? As we watched Susan and Greg, Marci started gently stroking my cock. As she did so, and with perfect timing, Susan’s hand reached for Greg’s. He scooted closer to her and she started pumping his cock as they kissed.

For the first time in my life I was watching my wife fondle another man’s dick and balls. She was being so familiar with it, her moves mimicking her moves when she fondled my cock. Of course they were the same moves. How could they not be?

It struck me that Susan was now adding to her erotic ledger. I’d been with Marci many times. For Susan, Greg was all new. Was my being with Marci again really balancing the scale? Regardless, this vision of Susan holding another man’s cock was the sort of thing I was likely to remember forever, right up there with 9/11.

Greg displayed no reserve. I wondered if he now viewed our earlier private discussion as a pep-talk. His mouth slipped from her lips to her breasts. He alternated between nipples and Susan moaned per approval, sounding almost delirious. Her nipples were her starter buttons.

Marci’s hand stopped moving. I looked to see she was now fully mesmerized by the escalating foreplay between Susan and Greg.

So was I.

I took a long sip of wine. Marci did the same, then scooted her chair to eliminate the final inch remaining between us. Her head leaned on my shoulder as her hand returned to my cock. I was as hard as I’d ever been and leaking precum down her fingers. She played with it, drawing it down over my shaft.

I kissed her, and her lips felt wonderful, being so full and moist and familiar. She smiled and pulled my ear down to her mouth. “I want to watch them first, then we’ll make love.” She gave me another kiss and I nodded.

It sounded like a very good plan.

Chapter 17: What’s Mine Is Yours

WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT NOW?

Susan shot me a glance and smiled. Our eyes connected. She blew me an air kiss which I returned, even though it looks silly when a man does it. She saw Marci’s hand on my cock. It stumped her for a second, then she smiled again. She turned back to Greg, gave him a kiss, and push him down on his back.

I thought, this is it. They’re going to make love now.

But she wasn’t there yet. Susan leaned over his cock, which stretched to his navel, wrapped her delicate fingers around it, and put the tip in her mouth. She was laying perpendicular to him with her face facing us. This provided a clear and unrelenting view of the action.

Susan