Samantha sings

Samantha Parker loved her man. No matter how many dicks she might have sucked, his would always remain the absolute best. And not just because of the cutie patootie attached to it.

“That was sweet of you,” she said, giving the head of his dick a final kiss.

“She needed it,” he said, “to feel wanted.”

“I bet she felt good for you, too,” Sam whispered in his ear, after getting back on her feet. “She didn’t taste too bad either. Can’t wait to have her over for dinner.”

Seeing the young woman get railed by the hubby took her right back to the first time she saw him. She was a goth, if you can believe it, and he was a skater. They were fucking before they knew each other’s names, engaged before meeting each other’s parents, pregnant before getting married.

“That’s when you know it’s love,” her grandmother had said to her parents’ chagrin.

Now, with three adult daughters out of the house, they had all the time in the world to enjoy life.

They paid for their groceries, hopped in the car, and drove home.

Sam sighed. “Fuck, I forgot I have practice tonight.”

Sam’s greatest strength had always been her voice. She started singing as a teenager, when she finally decided she wasn’t going to hide anymore, formed a band of misfits to play some very bad covers of The Cure songs. When she finished high school, she went to a Music School on the other side of the country, tried to launch a musical career with moderate success and eventually started teaching. Still, on occasion she’d be hired for a gig or two.

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur responded with a reassuring smile. “I’ll survive.”

“I could cancel,” she said. “I know how much you were looking forward to tonight.”

“Tomorrow’s another night, and there’s another one after that. I’m not going anywhere, love.”

God, she loved that man.

“Okay,” she said. “But I’m gonna make it up to you.”

#

“So, we going for tricolor or matching?”

“I say we go all out, mama. Sexy to the maxy.”

Sam chuckled. Janey was a goofball, but she was right. They’d only do a couple of songs, so they had to make a splash.

“So what, like The Supremes?” Maxine shrugged, she’d just go along with whatever insanity Janey could come up with.

“No, no. I mean full-on middle aged Charlie’s Angels.”

“Which ones?”

“Oh, you know, the ones with the different colored unitards.”

“That’s Totally Spies.”

“How do you know all these things?”

“I like cartoons.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“Anyway,” Sam interrupted the two, “what I believe you’re trying to say is: we go tight and colorful. Do we need to buy anything?”

“And ignore the excuse to raid your closet?” Janey said. “No way, I want to wear something from your legendary collection.”

“You had this in mind the whole time, didn’t you?”

Janey smirked her signature smirk.

#

“Hey hun, we’re headed home now.”

“We?” Arthur answered.

“Yes Artie,” Janey practically shouted at the phone, “WE.”

“Yeah,” Sam continued. “We decided we wanted to try out some clothes for the show. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” the sweetheart answered.

“And after that, I’m gonna sit on your face,” Janey added.

“You heard it,” Sam laughed. “Janey wants to bang afterwards, make up for stealing me away tonight.”

“Deal,” Arthur answered. “Maxine coming too?”

“Yup,” Maxine answered. “But I’m not fucking anymore today, I’m tired as hell. Can I just watch you guys?”

“Fine with me,” Arthur answered.

Sam had to admit her collection could be considered something close to legendary. Maybe epic. Arthur wasn’t what you’d call a big spender. At least, not on stuff for himself. His wife/princess could buy whatever the hell she wanted, but she’d decided to do that only if she thought he’d benefit from it to. So, her collection of lingerie had expanded to what some would call impressive. She had the usual stuff she wore daily, special stuff for special occasions and some things so old or historically relevant they could be in a museum.

Tonight though, she wasn’t concerned with the history of undergarments. Tonight she had the pleasure of playing dress-up with her friends.

Janey of course went straight for the old goth stuff, slipping into a tight, but luckily stretchy spiderweb thing. The three had been sharing clothes for years, having similar builds and sizes —which gave rise to nicknames like ‘The Twerking Threesome, The Hiplets and, creatively, The Titty Trio, to name a few— with most if not all kilos gained through the years allocated to what Arthur would call “the right spots.”

After some fooling around with the wildest outfits they could assemble, Sam settled on blue lace and pearls, Janey on fiery red and suspenders and Maxine on a shimmering gold that made her darker skin glow.

“So, how do we look?”

“Fantastic.” Arthur responded both verbally and physically, Sam noticed.

“Great,” Janey sighed. “Now I just need some help getting out of this thing.”

“Gotcha,” Arthur answered.

Five minutes later, Sam’s best friend was riding her hubby’s face, while she herself was finally riding his dick.

It had been a long day.