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

would also excite Marci, she would then have Susan take care of her, which excited Susan to do and, once bringing Marci to fruitful orgasm, Susan would pounce on me, often climbing over my face as she had done that evening when we had put on the spectacle for Greg. This would re-engage my pumps, and soon Marci would be fucking me while I tended to Susan, still engaged with my tongue.

It was exhausting, though the pace did in fact slow down eventually. Had it not, I doubt I would have made it through the first six months. By month seven, our amorous activities assumed a semblance of sanity, with actual days passing involving no sex whatsoever, just as was often the case with regular married couples.

Their creativity stretched me to my limits on one occasion. It was Halloween, and I was returning home from a particularly trying day with hopes for a quiet evening. When I walked into the kitchen with a grocery bag full of candy for the neighborhood kids, the women were in costume. I wasn’t aware of any party invitations and regardless, neither of them could have gone anywhere as they were dressed. They’d selected matching dominatrix outfits, including props.

While I had no interest in any of the darker fetishes popular with other adults, I had to admit they looked quite sexy. Their black leatherette bras and panties with matching thigh-high boots was a good look on them.

Rather than show surprise or in any way acknowledge their outfits, I put my grocery bag on the counter, plugged in my phone and said, “What’s new?”

“Well, what do you think?” asked Marci, sounding disappointed. She was less prone to patience than Susan, who knew I was purposely holding back my reaction.

“About what?” I said.

Marci looked at Susan, then back to me.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“He’s being coy,” said Susan. “Show him what we bought for him.”

Marci reached into a shopping bag and extracted a black leatherette thong.

“I’m not wearing that,” I said.

“Honey!” said Susan. “Don’t you want to play with us?”

“Not like that. No.”

She feigned disappointment, but it didn’t seem heartfelt.

“Well, at least tell us how we look.” They both assumed a pose.

“I admit, you both do look sexy like that. Nordstroms?”

Susan laughed and came over for a kiss and hug. Marci seemed genuinely disappointed about the thong.

“Maybe Greg will come over and wear it for us.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Would either of you like a drink?” I went to the cupboard where we kept the kitchen booze.

“What would dominatrixes drink?” asked Marci.

“How about White Russians?” offered Susan. “That sounds right for some reason.”

I made us all White Russians and handed them around. Their outfits were beginning to drive me a little nuts, something I would have never guessed. It made me wonder what they actually had in mind.

The doorbell rang, beginning the kiddie parade of trick or treaters. Marci, who often acted before she thought, poured the candy into a bowl and went to answer the door. At this point, I realized she probably shouldn’t be answering the door as she was dressed but it was too late. She returned to the kitchen smiling.

“Nice people. The parents were in costume too. Don’t you love Halloween?”

“Marci,” I said, looking at her own costume. She followed my eyes.

“Oh, fuck!”

Susan laughed. “I think we should let Ryan answer the door.”

A stream of neighborhood kids kept me busy for the next hour and the dominatrixes at bay. They seemed to be tantalizing each other well enough, so I didn’t feel I was letting them down. After another twenty minutes passed with no further trick or treaters, I turned off the porch light and we retreated to the living room.

“So tell me,” I said. “What exactly did you two have in mind with those outfits?”

“We thought you’d like them,” said Susan. “In fact, I think you do like them.” She felt my trousers. I actually didn’t have an erection, but the warmth of her hand and the fondling quickly produced one.

“I said you both looked sexy.”

Susan kissed my cheek as her fingers undid my belt. This encouraged my erection to stick around.

Marci undid my zipper and opened my trousers and felt my bulge.

“Aren’t you the bad boy,” she said. “A very naughty boy.” She pulled my briefs down.

“We should punish him, don’t you think?” asked Susan, now employing a husky voice.

“Really, you two…” I said.

Marci and Susan pulled my trousers and underwear down. Naturally, I lifted my butt off the sofa to assist them. They stared at my cock but made no move to touch it in any way. I felt this was rude as it was yearning to be touched.

“Take off his shirt,” said Marci. She worked at getting my shoes, socks, trousers, and underwear off. Now I was sitting naked on the sofa with two dominatrixes and, frankly, I was starting to feel it. An urge erupted out of nowhere for them to have their way with me.

“What should we do now?” asked Susan.

“We should tie him up!” said Marci, hopefully.

“We don’t have any rope.” Susan laughed. “We didn’t think this through, did we?”

I decided to let them play. Marci stood in front of me and took off the leatherette panties—which was difficult to do over her high boots—and fluffed her pubic hair.

“I think he should eat my pussy.”

“Hmm, mine too!”

Marci grabbed my head and pulled it into her crotch. I started licking like a good naughty boy would do, which meant foregoing my usual routine involving teasing and taking my time.

“Such a bad boy,” said Susan. Marci moaned. I could tell she was enjoying this as she started to roll her hips. I became more aggressive.

“Hey, this is nice!” she said. “I’ve never had it done like this before.”

“Shush, Marci,” said Susan. “You’re supposed to be dominating him!”

“How do I do that?” She continued to roll herself into my face. It was actually not a bad angle. “Oh, God this is nice.”

“Now me!” said Susan. She removed her