Her husband

The next evening, I was at home, on the phone with a possible date, as my doorbell rang. I told the girl I would call her back and hung up. I didn’t expect any company, so I wondered who it might be. I opened the door, and to my big surprise, I saw Catherine standing there, together with her husband.

This was bad news, I thought. Did he find out? But what did he find out?

“Hi.” I said, "Nothing else coming to mind," looking at them, waiting.

“May we come in?” Catherine asked, giving me a mixed look I rated in between hopeful and imploring. And a bit sexy, if you ask me. You know, the look women can give you for a second, when, like, what they see, and want more of it.

“Sure, I am just not prepared to receive any visits.”

I stepped aside, and they walked in, and I started deliberating if the guy would be dangerous or not. On my way behind them towards the living room, I closed the door to the kitchen where all those knives were. Better be safe, then, sorry. Catherine automatically walked in front of her husband towards the living room, forgetting that “she had never been here.”

Whatever, I thought. It’s too late anyway.

The weird thing was that Catherine had really dressed up, and he hadn’t, as if she was going on a date or clubbing and he was her driver. For a second, I thought about her being a sexy, expensive hooker, being delivered to the customer, and the guy acting like a bodyguard. She wore one hell of a sexy mini dress with an open back and ruching at the rear, which covered perfectly some of the “not in shape yet” areas and camouflaged other "trouble spots." It was very short, and it showed quite a bit of naked thigh before her leg would be covered by sexy hold-up stockings.

The dress clung to her female form, very tight around her large breasts and wide hips and showing a nice hour-glass figure. The red high heels she was wearing looked expensive and matched her bright red lipstick. She wore heavy, smudged eye makeup with thick, dark eyeliner, heavy mascara, and dark smoky eyes. She had dark red lipstick on, and her cheeks showed some kind of flushed look, like the look of post-activity heat.

I had heard about the way she looked, this trendy new "lived-in" or slightly messy look, as if from a late night out. It was a very sultry look, and if I hadn’t known better, it looked to me like she was inviting me to fuck her.

“Please have a seat,” I said. “Can I offer you something to drink?” Hoping they would ask for mineral water, since my fridge was almost empty. They both nodded "no" so I went into the kitchen getting some water for myself to gain some time and to think this over. What do they want here?

As I returned to the living room, another odd scenario unfolded to my eyes: they were sitting on different couches; Catherine was sitting on the one closer to the hallway where I would normally sit, and he was sitting on the smaller sofa, which was close to the window. Normally you would expect a couple to sit together on the same sofa, right? It looked as if they were on a party somewhere and they didn’t know each other. Catherine was showing a more confident attitude, her husband the opposite, a more submissive posture. As if he regretted being in here.

“So, what's up?” I asked them.

“Phil has a business proposal for you.” Catherine announced, looking at her husband.

I looked at him, not understanding.

“Eh, yes,” as he cleared his throat, “I don’t know where to begin; I just talk and try to make it comprehensive for you.”

The way he announced it made me frown even more.

“Mhh.., OK,” He continued, “I like very much what you have been… I don’t know, eeeh… coaching my wife. She has changed into the shortest time back into a very sexy woman, and I owe this to you. It is all my fault anyway.”

I kept quiet, looking at him.

He remained silent.

Suddenly Catherine didn’t have any more patience and blurted out, “He wants to watch.”

“Watch what?”

“Us.”

Slowly, I started understanding. Her husband wanted to see us fuck. We had come close in my hallway yesterday, very close, Catherine moaning as I fingered her married slit.

“How come?” I asked him.

“Catherine and I made a deal yesterday.”

“And that is?”

“One night only, and I get to watch.” He replied, adding, “And 1000 bucks for you to keep your mouth shut at work.”

I smiled. I get to fuck his gorgeous wife and get paid for it. But I wasn’t sure if I could keep a hard-on with a guy watching me. So, I changed the rules.

“No watching. Only hearing. You can sit in the living room when your wife and I are in the bedroom.”

Silence.

Catherine looked at her husband, hoping he would agree. And if not, she would simply come back alone tomorrow. Since he had rubbed her little slit, she had been horny as hell.

He did not answer, so Catherine took the lead for him. “Don’t you worry, I will be safe. And you know where he lives and works.”

“Will you use a condom?” he asked me.

I didn’t answer and just stared back at him.

“Honey,” Catherine intervened, I will be just fine.” But she kept looking at me, her eyes saying something completely different.

She doesn’t want a condom.

Neither do I.

“Do you want a blanket, Phil, in case you fall asleep?” I teased him, but to my surprise he nodded “yes.”

“So how will you pay?”

He quickly stood up and pulled an envelope out of his jacket and gave it to me. I counted; it was all there, in 100 bills. I excused myself and hid the money in my bedroom. As I came back, I suggested to Catherine to freshen up and that I would be in the bedroom, waiting for her.

“See you tomorrow, Phil.”

The moment Catherine walked into my bedroom, she wanted to close the door, but I stopped her from doing that.

“Leave it open.”

Catherine looked lustfully at me, realizing her husband would hear everything.

I spun her around and bent her over the edge of the bed, flipping that short dress up over her hips. But I wasn't done—I reached up and yanked the top of her dress down, those large, heavy breasts spilling free, nipples hard and dark pink, already aroused and pointing toward the floor. They hung there, pendulous and full, swaying slightly with her ragged breathing.

Catherine crawled onto the bed on all fours. The moment she spread her legs, she was offering me a good view of her vulva and dripping wet labia. The straps of her garter made her ass look heart-shaped, perfectly showing me where her married holes were.

I grabbed her cunt, and I felt the little stubbles. She hadn’t shaven today.

“You forgot to shave," I stated.

Before she could answer, I slapped her hard on her naked ass.

Smack!

The first slap rang out like a gunshot in the quiet room. Catherine yelped, her body jerking forward against the mattress, and her tits swung violently beneath her, slapping together, the flesh rippling with the impact.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Four more slaps in rapid succession, each one harder than the last. With every strike, her breasts swung back and forth like heavy bells, the momentum carrying them forward, then snapping them back, nipples brushing against the bedspread, then swinging outward again. I watched her butt bloom pink, then red, the outline of my hand visible on her right cheek, and four distinct finger-shaped welts rising on her left, while her tits continued their obscene pendulum motion beneath her.

I grabbed her hips and positioned myself at her entrance. She was already soaked—I could feel it, see it glistening on her thighs. All that spanking had done was turn her on more.

"Take me, Catherine," I commanded, and thrust into her in one hard, deep stroke.

"Aaaah!" she wailed, her voice raw and guttural, completely uninhibited.

I settled into a brutal pace, pounding into her from behind, and with every thrust, her breasts swung wildly beneath her. Slap-slap-slap—the sound of my hips against her ass mixed with the wet smack-smack-smack of her tits colliding with each other, swinging back and forth, pendulous and heavy, the nipples dragging across the bedspread with each forward momentum, then swinging back toward me as I pulled her hips back onto my cock. They swayed violently, those full, heavy orbs slapping together, separating, then slapping again, the flesh rippling and bouncing with each impact.

"Oh god, yes, fuck me, fuck me hard—" Catherine was babbling now, completely lost in it, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. Her ass jiggled with each impact, those red handprints wobbling, but my eyes were drawn to the obscene sight of her tits swinging beneath her, slapping together, nipples hard and pointing down, the areolas puckered tight. They moved in rhythm with my fucking—forward as I thrust deep, back as I pulled out, swinging like heavy sacks of flesh, sweat beginning to glisten in her cleavage.

"OH! Oh fuck, right there, don't stop—"

I could feel her first orgasm building, her walls fluttering around me, her back arching like a bow, which only made her breasts hang lower, swaying more dramatically. When she came, it was explosive—she threw her head back, her dark hair flying, and screamed so loud I was sure the neighbors would hear. Her whole body convulsed, and her tits swung in wide, erratic arcs, slapping against her ribcage, then swinging back and colliding with each other, the heavy flesh rippling with aftershocks.

I gritted my teeth and kept fucking her through it, not letting up, driving her higher. She collapsed forward onto the bed, her face buried in the pillows, her breasts flattening slightly against the mattress before spreading out to the sides, but I pulled her back up by her hair, forcing her back into that arch, making her tits hang free again, swinging with renewed violence as I resumed my brutal pace.

"That's one," I growled in her ear, reaching around to grab one swinging breast, squeezing it hard, feeling the weight of it in my palm, the nipple pressing into my skin. "Two more, Catherine. Give me two more."

I pounded into her harder and faster, and her tits responded with even wilder swings—back and forth, back and forth, the heavy orbs slapping together, then apart, nipples pointing at the floor, then swinging up slightly with the backward momentum. They were red now, flushed with blood and arousal, swinging so violently they were smacking against her own ribs with audible thwacks, the flesh rippling and jiggling with every thrust.

Within minutes she was climbing again, her thighs trembling, her screams reaching a new pitch. I watched her breasts swing forward and stay there for a moment as I buried myself deep, then snap back as I pulled out, only to swing forward again. The sight was obscene—those married tits, meant for her husband, now swinging freely for my pleasure, marked by nothing but my rough handling and her own arousal.

"AH! Oh god, oh god—"

The second orgasm hit her even harder than the first. Her knees buckled, and if I hadn't been holding her hips, she would have collapsed. Her pussy spasmed around me, gushing wetness down her thighs, and her breasts swung in wide, desperate arcs, the nipples dragging across the bedspread, then swinging back to slap against her own body. She was incoherent now, just making animal noises, guttural and desperate, while her tits continued their wild, pendulous dance beneath her.

I could feel my own climax approaching, my balls tightening, but I wasn't done with her yet. I flipped her over onto her back—her breasts settling with a heavy slap against her chest, then bouncing slightly before coming to rest, spread out and heaving. Her dress was bunched around her waist, her breasts fully exposed, nipples pointing at the ceiling, glistening with sweat, rising and falling with her panting breaths.

But I wasn't finished with them swinging. I pulled her back up, positioning her on her hands and knees again, her tits hanging down like udders, heavy and full. I entered her from behind once more, gripping her shoulders for leverage, and resumed fucking her with deep, grinding thrusts. Her breasts swung back and forth beneath her with renewed violence—smack-smack-smack—slapping together, then apart, the flesh rippling, nipples brushing against the bed, then swinging back toward me, the heavy orbs swaying in perfect rhythm to my cock pounding into her.

"Come for me one more time," I ordered, my voice strained, watching her tits swing wildly, the flesh jiggling and bouncing, slapping together with wet sounds of their own. "Come on, my cock, knowing your husband is sitting out there listening."

That did it. Catherine's mouth opened in a silent scream, then a wail that seemed to come from her very core. Her third orgasm was the most intense yet—a full-body convulsion that had her back arching completely off the bed, her hands flailing, and her pussy contracting in violent spasms around my cock. Her breasts swung in their widest arcs yet, pendulous and heavy, slapping against each other, then her ribs, then swinging back to collide again, the flesh rippling with the force of her pleasure.

I couldn't hold back anymore. With a final, brutal thrust that sent her tits swinging forward one last time, slapping together with an audible smack, I buried myself deep and let go, pumping rope after rope of hot cum deep inside her married womb. I reached around and grabbed both swinging breasts, squeezing them hard, feeling their weight and heat in my palms as I emptied myself completely into her cunt, my fingers sinking into the soft, swaying flesh.

We stayed like that for a moment, both panting, sweating, her breasts still hanging heavy in my hands, nipples pressed against my palms. Then I pulled out slowly, watching my seed begin to leak from her, white against her pink, swollen folds.

"Go," I said, slapping her butt lightly and giving her tits one final squeeze before releasing them. They swayed as she moved, still heavy and flushed. "Go get ready for round two. Hit the bathroom. Clean up. And shave."

To be continued.