Ron was an arrogant son of a bitch. Ever since we first started working together on a contract, he was full of himself – confident in his abilities, yes, cocky about the way he looked and the way he dressed, flashy with his money. But when it came to women, he was totally insufferable.
We had been out for a drink, and as the evening wore on he became even worse.
“The thing is Rob” he told me, “I know that I can have any woman I want. I have this sort of sexual super-power that means they just can’t resist me. Single, married, divorced, widowed – it makes no difference. Once I get them in my gunsights” – he made a gun shape with his fingers – “it’s inevitable. Never been known to fail.”
The problem was, the evidence seemed to back him up. He seemed to have a different woman every night, in a wide variety of ages, colours, shapes and sizes, and never seemed to have any problem in picking up whoever took his eye.
I talked about him to my wife Emily, complaining that I thought that his arrogance would put women off, but the reverse seemed to be true.
She laughed.
“Well, women do find self-confidence attractive, but not when it tips over into total arrogance. But it’s true that there are some men who just seem to have an irresistible sexual magnetism – even if you don’t like them, you’re somehow drawn to them and can’t resist even their most blatant and outrageous suggestions.”
“So you’ve met men like Ron before then?”
“Only one – before we were married. But yes, he did have that magic charm that meant he was impossible to say no to.”
“So – did you…?”
Em giggled.
“Oh yes!” she said. “And it was the best sex I’ve ever had!”
I cleared my throat.
“Oh – until I met you, of course!” she laughed. “Now I’m older and wiser!”
“So now there would be no danger of you being seduced by a charmer like Ron?”
Em looked thoughtful.
“Well I’m sure I’d be flattered to be hit on by someone like that. But I’m sure nowadays I could see through it well enough to resist!”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “Although you know how much I enjoy watching you get chatted up…”
She swatted me, and we dropped the subject.
The following week I was once again sharing a drink with Ron. I may have had a couple too many, because when he once again started boasting about his prowess with women I couldn’t resist responding.
“My wife Emily says you’re full of bullshit,” I said. “She says she’d have no problem at all resisting an arrogant twat like you!”
Ron raised his eyebrows as he laughed.
“Does she now!” he said.
He leaned towards me.
“Have you got a picture of this tower of strength?” he asked.
I fumbled with my phone and pulled up a picture of Em in the garden, wearing a cute sundress. I thought it made her look quite ‘girl next door’ and not at all Ron’s type, but he grabbed the phone and whistled appreciatively.
“Very nice my friend,” he said. “You’re obviously batting way above your average!”
“But not above yours, huh?”
Ron laughed as he sat back in his seat and put his arms out across the seat back.
“Rob, within two hours of meeting your wife, she would be naked on the floor while I took her doggy-style from behind.”
He leaned forward again.
“With you watching helplessly!”
I snorted, half amused and half offended.
“Is that so?” I asked. “OK, come round for a drink at ours, Friday night. You can meet Em. Then we’ll see about ‘any woman’!”
Ron leaned forward again.
“Are you sure about this Rob?” he asked. “I WILL fuck your wife. Don’t say you haven’t been warned!”
When I got home, still a little the worse for drink, I told Em what he had said, and that I had asked him round on Friday to prove him wrong. Rather to my surprise, she was annoyed.
“So I’m what – the bait in some stupid sex bet you’ve had with your work buddy?” she asked.
I hastened to assure her that no, of course it was just that I wanted her to meet him and for him to see how gorgeous she was and that he couldn’t assume that he could always have everything he wanted.
“So you want to show off to him how you’re – what was the phrase – ‘batting above your average’?”
I tried to explain and to mollify her, but Em remained frosty for the rest of the night.
By Friday, Em was obviously still annoyed with me, but I suspected she was also just a little curious to meet Ron and find out what the fuss was all about. He turned up spot on time at our front door, with a big bouquet of roses ’for the hostess’ and a bottle of champagne.
Em was dressed quite casually in a floral short-sleeved button-up blouse, knee-length beige skirt and black boots that came up to just below her knees. She accepted the flowers and Ron’s brief kiss on the cheek, then handed me the champagne and instructed me to go into the kitchen, open it and bring some glasses and the nibbles she’d prepared.
I struggled a little with the cork on the champagne, and then it took me a couple of minutes more to find the champagne flutes, but I couldn’t have been in the kitchen more than ten minutes in total. By the time I came back into the living room, Em and Ron were both giggling over some joke, and he was sitting closely beside her on the sofa.
While we drank our champagne and chatted over the generic things that relative strangers do, I noticed how Ron operated; he gave Em lots of eye contact, and she seemed to find it difficult to tear her eyes away from his. After a short time, he started to causally touch the back of her hand to emphasise a point, and when she didn’t flinch or pull away he moved up to touch her bare arms.
Whenever I made a point or a comment, Ron politely but firmly steered the topic back to Em, until I found myself almost totally sidelined in the conversation. I watched their body language; Em was blushing slightly, but her body was half-turned towards him as he relaxed with his arm along the back of the sofa.
When the champagne was finished, Em told me to go and fetch some wine from the kitchen. Even as I left I heard the two of them laughing together, and had a feeling that they were talking about me.
Through the kitchen door, I heard the volume of the conversation get much lower, so I couldn’t hear what was being said – and then Em giggled like a little girl. When I got back with the wine and glasses, she was sitting back in the sofa with her booted feet up on the coffee table –sitting much closer to Ron, so that their thighs were touching and his arm was practically across her shoulder.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Oh – nothing!” said Em.
Ron smiled, showing his teeth.
“Actually Rob, I just found your wife out. You see, I bet her that I could tell her something intimate about herself that a stranger couldn’t be expected to know.”
Em was blushing again and giggling.
“She didn’t believe me, but when I said I thought that she was the kind of woman who would definitely have a pierced nipple, well…”
He beamed his laser-beam smile and Em collapsed giggling again. This was a little strange – Ron wasn’t the first man to whom Em had revealed that she had a nipple ring, but she didn’t normally act like a schoolgirl on a first date.
Em swatted at him, and he captured both her wrists in his hands.
“The thing is,” said Ron, “those breasts are just MADE for a little adornment. Look at them!”
He held my wife’s hands up so that the outline of her breasts was pushing against her blouse.
“What are you Em – 34C?”
“Ummm – 34B usually,” confessed Em.
Ron frowned.
“That’s weird, I’m usually spot on!”
“Well, actually – this bra is a 34C, I bought it a while back when my breasts were a little bit bigger.”
“That’s no good!” exclaimed Ron. “A woman should never wear the wrong size bra! It’s terribly bad for the breasts – pushes them out of shape. But if I’m any judge – and believe me I am – you don’t need to wear a bra anyway. Those little breasts are beautifully firm and pert.”
Em giggled shyly, and turned the conversation back to safer topics. I thought that she had neatly deflected Ron’s advances, but even as they talked about work and holidays I could see his eyes alternately locking with hers and sweeping down to assess and appreciate my wife’s breasts.
After a few more minutes of chat, Em excused herself to go to the bathroom. I was left alone with Ron.
“Well I admit you got her talking about her breasts,” I said. “But let’s face it, you’re a long way from getting into her panties. You may as well give up now.”
Ron laughed heartily.
“But I’ve only been here forty minutes!” he said. “I told you – within two hours of coming through that door, I will be mounting your wife with my balls banging against her ass cheeks!”
I winced at the crudity of his language – but at the same time, I felt myself hardening as I pictured the scene he painted. Ron laughed as if he knew what effect his words were having on my now semi-tumescent cock.
The door opened, and Em hurried back in, collapsing in the sofa next to Ron. I heard him chuckle, and looked at Em to see what had amused him. It took me a few seconds to work it out, but then I could clearly see what Ron had noticed immediately; on her trip to the bathroom, Em had removed her bra and the soft, rounded shape of her breasts was now clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. As Ron had intimated, Em’s 34B tits were both firm and pert, and the hard shape of her nipples made little tents against the material – the round outline of her nipple ring clearly visible adorning her left breast.
Em was blushing down to her neck, and her breath was a little ragged. I expected Ron to make some comment, but instead he returned to a story he had been telling previously about a trip he’d made on the Orient Express. Once again though his gaze kept sliding between Emily’s eyes and the softness of her breasts – and the hardness of her nipples showed no signs of decreasing.
“Em – could you give me a hand with something in the kitchen?” I asked, interrupting Ron’s story.
She frowned, and touched Ron’s hand apologetically as she followed me into the kitchen. I closed the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she retorted, almost sulkily.
“You said you’d have no problem resisting the charm of a guy like Ron, but here you are flaunting your tits at him!”
“I am NOT flaunting my tits!” she said. “I just happen to think Ron was right – I shouldn’t wear that over-sized bra when my breasts are firm enough not to need one.”
“What are you doing talking about your breasts with the man anyway?” I asked. “You’ve only just met him!”
“Well at least he notices them, which is more than you do nowadays!” she retorted.
“Look, I only invited him here tonight to prove to him that he’s not as irresistible as he thinks he is!”
“Exactly! You’re just using me as some piece of meat to satisfy a stupid bet! Well, maybe it’s not just about him!”
“What do you mean?”
Em looked exasperated.
“Oh – forget it!”
I grabbed her arm.
“Look – he’s told me that within two hours of arriving he thinks he’s going to be fucking you on the living room floor!”
Em pulled her arm away angrily.
“Well I’d better get back then, hadn’t I?” she said. “He’s only got an hour left!”
By the time I got back to the living room, Em was once more cuddled up to Ron on the sofa, his arm casually across her shoulder. I noticed that she had undone two of the buttons on her blouse, revealing a broad swathe of pale skin at the top of her breasts. I wondered if from his nearer vantage point Ron was able to see her nipple under the shirt.
“Everything OK Rob?” Ron asked, grinning at me. I didn’t answer, just flounced down into the armchair.
“So how about you Ron?” my wife was asking. “Any intimate piercings?”
“Well Emily – what do you think?” he asked, with a broad grin and a wink.
Em’s hand went to her mouth.
“You don’t mean – you haven’t!” she exclaimed. Ron’s grin just got wider.
“Wow, I’ve always wanted to see a Prince Albert!” she said. “Didn’t it hurt? How does it feel?”
Ron laughed.
“Well, I’d be more than happy to show you,” he said. “How it looks I mean. As to how it feels – well, maybe we can talk about that later.”
I noticed Em’s mouth seemed to have gone dry – she was licking her lips.
“But.” He leaned forward. “Fair’s fair. I’ll show you mine – if you show me yours.”
I snorted. My shy, conservative wife was NOT going to take her blouse off in front of this stranger she’d only met an hour earlier.
But Em was already off the sofa, kneeling on the floor in front of Ron, her hands fumbling slightly as she tried to undo the remaining buttons.
Ron leaned forward and brushed Em’s hands down.
“Allow me!” he said as he swiftly and deftly unbuttoned her blouse and, with one swift movement, pulled it down off her shoulders and onto the floor, leaving her naked from the waist up.
I saw Em’s eyes widen – I suspect she had intended to just open her blouse briefly to reveal her silver nipple ring before quickly pulling it shut again, but instead here she was, bare breasted, her soft pale skin ******* to Ron’s devouring eyes.
“Wow. Amazing. Magnificent!” he murmured.
I snorted again. Ron had obviously seen thousands of women’s breasts – I was sure he didn’t find my wife’s that remarkable.
Em shot me a dirty look as if she could read my thoughts.
“Do you really like them?” she asked Ron.
“Like them? I can barely keep my hands off them!” he laughed, and followed this remark by sweeping his palms up her bare arms and onto the soft mounds of her breasts, her hard, pale pink nipples peeping out from between his fingers.
“Hey! I’m not sure you should be fondling my wife’s tits!” I said, though my voice lacked conviction due to the large bulge in my pants as I watched my workmate sweep his hands across Em’s ******* body, squeezing and caressing her soft flesh. They both ignored me.
“So – your turn!” said Em, and reached forward to start unbuckling Ron’s belt.
He laughed, and pulled off his polo shirt, revealing a well-muscled and toned abdomen and torso, before lifting his ass to allow Em to pull down his jeans and shorts.
I heard my wife gasp, but she was sitting between me and Ron, so I couldn’t see the details of what she had revealed. But a second later, she leaned forward and started to lick and nibble at his obviously ******* and erect member.
Ron looked at me over my wife’s head as she took him deeply into her mouth, and grinned.
“Emily! You said you wouldn’t!” I said, rather inadequately and unconvincingly.
Em released Ron’s hard cock from between her lips, stood up and turned to face me, her little pink breasts bouncing, their nipples hard and engorged.
“Sorry Rob, but it seems he is,” she said.
“Is what?” I said, puzzled, as she turned back to face Ron, her skirt sliding down over her hips to land in a puddle on the floor next to her discarded blouse.
“Irresistible!” she said, her brief pink thong also sliding down her thighs and off, leaving her naked but for her black boots.
“Mmmmm – shaved, just the way I like,” said Ron. “I knew you would be.”
Em chuckled throatily and moved forward, one knee each side of Ron’s naked thighs, her legs wide and inviting as he leaned forward to kiss and tongue her ******* sex, his hands snaking around to cup her buttocks and pull her closer onto him.
As Em moved forward, I could see Ron’s erect cock between her buttocks. It was long, thick and curved, and as advertised sported a large silver ring piercing the head. I watched as my wife reached back and grabbed it in her delicate fingers, running her left hand up to the tip to explore the hard metal. I was mesmerized by the sight of her wedding band running over this other man’s hard, swollen flesh.
Ron was still busy licking and sucking on my wife’s intimate places, and I could hear her moaning softly and see her little pink breasts quivering as she moved to the rhythm of his tongue.
Ron pulled back.
“So Emily – I think you wanted to know how it feels?” he said, and pushed her back slightly so that she was standing directly above his erect cock, her legs wide and either side of him. Em moaned louder as he began to slide the tip of his swollen member up and down along her shaved slit, her juices causing the tip of his head to glisten in the light of the table lamp, the bright silver ring disappearing briefly between her lips before re-emerging wet and shiny.
“Mmmm, Em – you’re tight!” said Ron. “Here – I think you’ll find it easier this way.”
Taking her gently by the hand, Ron guided Em down onto the floor, where she knelt with her hands and knees on the rug and her legs about a foot apart, her small breasts bouncing as they dangled beneath her, her ass in the air and her pale shaved slit wide open, the pink tip of her clitoris standing out prominently from her shiny wet lips, her entire sex displayed in blatant invitation.
Ron wasted no time in accepting the invitation as, kneeling behind her, he began to feed his large swollen cock inch by inch between my wife’s welcoming thighs.
Em pushed her buttocks back towards him, pushing more and more of his hard rod into her until finally she was transfixed on his erect penis, his large balls slapping against her thighs as he penetrated her to the deepest degree.
Ron looked at me and smiled as he took his hand briefly from my wife’s buttock to indicate his watch; it was exactly one hour and fifteen minutes since he had first walked through our front door.
For the next hour, I was treated to a virtuoso performance as Ron rogered my wife in every possible position and on every possible surface. I saw Em orgasm multiple times, but Ron was an expert, and every time he himself was close to coming he would slow the pace, or change position, or withdraw and spend some time stroking and caressing my wife’s naked body.
Emily was in raptures, her moans and screams filling the house and, I was sure, clearly audible to the neighbours. I had never heard her so vocal, alternately crying out her pleasure and begging Ron to fuck her harder. He appeared happy to oblige, using and abusing her until I was sure she was about to pass out.
I watched helplessly. At no stage did it occur to me to intervene, or even to object. Instead I watched as this arrogant prick did whatever he chose to my willing wife. In fact, far from objecting, I found myself hugely aroused by the sight of him giving Em pleasure in countless ways in my own living room, and had myself ejaculated for the third time before Ron was even close to finishing.
Finally, as Em lay on the floor with her legs wide open, Ron on top of her with his hands all over her naked breasts, his cock thrusting deeply into her sopping wet sex, I saw his buttocks tense and knew that he was about to reach his own climax. It suddenly occurred to me that he had not been wearing a condom – was he about to push his seed deep inside my wife? I found myself instantly hard again at the thought.
But, at the very last moment, Ron pulled back and allowed his hard, glistening member to withdraw from inside Em’s soft, wet and willing opening. As he leaned back, huge ropy strands of white semen shot out and covered Em’s belly and breasts, one huge gob landing on her mouth. Em chuckled and licked hungrily at the warm sticky liquid on her lips.
They both laughed. Ron leaned over and used Em’s discarded shirt to mop the sticky whiteness from her body, then they both collapsed onto the sofa, sitting side by side as before but now both naked, the red, swollen, puffy state of Em’s shaven pussy testimony to the pounding she had just received, his arm around her shoulder and casually tweaking her swollen nipple and her hand cupping his balls and stroking up and down his semi-flaccid penis.
“As I said Rob,” said Ron, looking at me and addressing me directly for the first time since he had mounted my wife, “she’s WAY out of your league.”
He made the gun-shape with his hand again, pointed at me – and pressed the metaphorical trigger.
We had been out for a drink, and as the evening wore on he became even worse.
“The thing is Rob” he told me, “I know that I can have any woman I want. I have this sort of sexual super-power that means they just can’t resist me. Single, married, divorced, widowed – it makes no difference. Once I get them in my gunsights” – he made a gun shape with his fingers – “it’s inevitable. Never been known to fail.”
The problem was, the evidence seemed to back him up. He seemed to have a different woman every night, in a wide variety of ages, colours, shapes and sizes, and never seemed to have any problem in picking up whoever took his eye.
I talked about him to my wife Emily, complaining that I thought that his arrogance would put women off, but the reverse seemed to be true.
She laughed.
“Well, women do find self-confidence attractive, but not when it tips over into total arrogance. But it’s true that there are some men who just seem to have an irresistible sexual magnetism – even if you don’t like them, you’re somehow drawn to them and can’t resist even their most blatant and outrageous suggestions.”
“So you’ve met men like Ron before then?”
“Only one – before we were married. But yes, he did have that magic charm that meant he was impossible to say no to.”
“So – did you…?”
Em giggled.
“Oh yes!” she said. “And it was the best sex I’ve ever had!”
I cleared my throat.
“Oh – until I met you, of course!” she laughed. “Now I’m older and wiser!”
“So now there would be no danger of you being seduced by a charmer like Ron?”
Em looked thoughtful.
“Well I’m sure I’d be flattered to be hit on by someone like that. But I’m sure nowadays I could see through it well enough to resist!”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “Although you know how much I enjoy watching you get chatted up…”
She swatted me, and we dropped the subject.
The following week I was once again sharing a drink with Ron. I may have had a couple too many, because when he once again started boasting about his prowess with women I couldn’t resist responding.
“My wife Emily says you’re full of bullshit,” I said. “She says she’d have no problem at all resisting an arrogant twat like you!”
Ron raised his eyebrows as he laughed.
“Does she now!” he said.
He leaned towards me.
“Have you got a picture of this tower of strength?” he asked.
I fumbled with my phone and pulled up a picture of Em in the garden, wearing a cute sundress. I thought it made her look quite ‘girl next door’ and not at all Ron’s type, but he grabbed the phone and whistled appreciatively.
“Very nice my friend,” he said. “You’re obviously batting way above your average!”
“But not above yours, huh?”
Ron laughed as he sat back in his seat and put his arms out across the seat back.
“Rob, within two hours of meeting your wife, she would be naked on the floor while I took her doggy-style from behind.”
He leaned forward again.
“With you watching helplessly!”
I snorted, half amused and half offended.
“Is that so?” I asked. “OK, come round for a drink at ours, Friday night. You can meet Em. Then we’ll see about ‘any woman’!”
Ron leaned forward again.
“Are you sure about this Rob?” he asked. “I WILL fuck your wife. Don’t say you haven’t been warned!”
When I got home, still a little the worse for drink, I told Em what he had said, and that I had asked him round on Friday to prove him wrong. Rather to my surprise, she was annoyed.
“So I’m what – the bait in some stupid sex bet you’ve had with your work buddy?” she asked.
I hastened to assure her that no, of course it was just that I wanted her to meet him and for him to see how gorgeous she was and that he couldn’t assume that he could always have everything he wanted.
“So you want to show off to him how you’re – what was the phrase – ‘batting above your average’?”
I tried to explain and to mollify her, but Em remained frosty for the rest of the night.
By Friday, Em was obviously still annoyed with me, but I suspected she was also just a little curious to meet Ron and find out what the fuss was all about. He turned up spot on time at our front door, with a big bouquet of roses ’for the hostess’ and a bottle of champagne.
Em was dressed quite casually in a floral short-sleeved button-up blouse, knee-length beige skirt and black boots that came up to just below her knees. She accepted the flowers and Ron’s brief kiss on the cheek, then handed me the champagne and instructed me to go into the kitchen, open it and bring some glasses and the nibbles she’d prepared.
I struggled a little with the cork on the champagne, and then it took me a couple of minutes more to find the champagne flutes, but I couldn’t have been in the kitchen more than ten minutes in total. By the time I came back into the living room, Em and Ron were both giggling over some joke, and he was sitting closely beside her on the sofa.
While we drank our champagne and chatted over the generic things that relative strangers do, I noticed how Ron operated; he gave Em lots of eye contact, and she seemed to find it difficult to tear her eyes away from his. After a short time, he started to causally touch the back of her hand to emphasise a point, and when she didn’t flinch or pull away he moved up to touch her bare arms.
Whenever I made a point or a comment, Ron politely but firmly steered the topic back to Em, until I found myself almost totally sidelined in the conversation. I watched their body language; Em was blushing slightly, but her body was half-turned towards him as he relaxed with his arm along the back of the sofa.
When the champagne was finished, Em told me to go and fetch some wine from the kitchen. Even as I left I heard the two of them laughing together, and had a feeling that they were talking about me.
Through the kitchen door, I heard the volume of the conversation get much lower, so I couldn’t hear what was being said – and then Em giggled like a little girl. When I got back with the wine and glasses, she was sitting back in the sofa with her booted feet up on the coffee table –sitting much closer to Ron, so that their thighs were touching and his arm was practically across her shoulder.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Oh – nothing!” said Em.
Ron smiled, showing his teeth.
“Actually Rob, I just found your wife out. You see, I bet her that I could tell her something intimate about herself that a stranger couldn’t be expected to know.”
Em was blushing again and giggling.
“She didn’t believe me, but when I said I thought that she was the kind of woman who would definitely have a pierced nipple, well…”
He beamed his laser-beam smile and Em collapsed giggling again. This was a little strange – Ron wasn’t the first man to whom Em had revealed that she had a nipple ring, but she didn’t normally act like a schoolgirl on a first date.
Em swatted at him, and he captured both her wrists in his hands.
“The thing is,” said Ron, “those breasts are just MADE for a little adornment. Look at them!”
He held my wife’s hands up so that the outline of her breasts was pushing against her blouse.
“What are you Em – 34C?”
“Ummm – 34B usually,” confessed Em.
Ron frowned.
“That’s weird, I’m usually spot on!”
“Well, actually – this bra is a 34C, I bought it a while back when my breasts were a little bit bigger.”
“That’s no good!” exclaimed Ron. “A woman should never wear the wrong size bra! It’s terribly bad for the breasts – pushes them out of shape. But if I’m any judge – and believe me I am – you don’t need to wear a bra anyway. Those little breasts are beautifully firm and pert.”
Em giggled shyly, and turned the conversation back to safer topics. I thought that she had neatly deflected Ron’s advances, but even as they talked about work and holidays I could see his eyes alternately locking with hers and sweeping down to assess and appreciate my wife’s breasts.
After a few more minutes of chat, Em excused herself to go to the bathroom. I was left alone with Ron.
“Well I admit you got her talking about her breasts,” I said. “But let’s face it, you’re a long way from getting into her panties. You may as well give up now.”
Ron laughed heartily.
“But I’ve only been here forty minutes!” he said. “I told you – within two hours of coming through that door, I will be mounting your wife with my balls banging against her ass cheeks!”
I winced at the crudity of his language – but at the same time, I felt myself hardening as I pictured the scene he painted. Ron laughed as if he knew what effect his words were having on my now semi-tumescent cock.
The door opened, and Em hurried back in, collapsing in the sofa next to Ron. I heard him chuckle, and looked at Em to see what had amused him. It took me a few seconds to work it out, but then I could clearly see what Ron had noticed immediately; on her trip to the bathroom, Em had removed her bra and the soft, rounded shape of her breasts was now clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. As Ron had intimated, Em’s 34B tits were both firm and pert, and the hard shape of her nipples made little tents against the material – the round outline of her nipple ring clearly visible adorning her left breast.
Em was blushing down to her neck, and her breath was a little ragged. I expected Ron to make some comment, but instead he returned to a story he had been telling previously about a trip he’d made on the Orient Express. Once again though his gaze kept sliding between Emily’s eyes and the softness of her breasts – and the hardness of her nipples showed no signs of decreasing.
“Em – could you give me a hand with something in the kitchen?” I asked, interrupting Ron’s story.
She frowned, and touched Ron’s hand apologetically as she followed me into the kitchen. I closed the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she retorted, almost sulkily.
“You said you’d have no problem resisting the charm of a guy like Ron, but here you are flaunting your tits at him!”
“I am NOT flaunting my tits!” she said. “I just happen to think Ron was right – I shouldn’t wear that over-sized bra when my breasts are firm enough not to need one.”
“What are you doing talking about your breasts with the man anyway?” I asked. “You’ve only just met him!”
“Well at least he notices them, which is more than you do nowadays!” she retorted.
“Look, I only invited him here tonight to prove to him that he’s not as irresistible as he thinks he is!”
“Exactly! You’re just using me as some piece of meat to satisfy a stupid bet! Well, maybe it’s not just about him!”
“What do you mean?”
Em looked exasperated.
“Oh – forget it!”
I grabbed her arm.
“Look – he’s told me that within two hours of arriving he thinks he’s going to be fucking you on the living room floor!”
Em pulled her arm away angrily.
“Well I’d better get back then, hadn’t I?” she said. “He’s only got an hour left!”
By the time I got back to the living room, Em was once more cuddled up to Ron on the sofa, his arm casually across her shoulder. I noticed that she had undone two of the buttons on her blouse, revealing a broad swathe of pale skin at the top of her breasts. I wondered if from his nearer vantage point Ron was able to see her nipple under the shirt.
“Everything OK Rob?” Ron asked, grinning at me. I didn’t answer, just flounced down into the armchair.
“So how about you Ron?” my wife was asking. “Any intimate piercings?”
“Well Emily – what do you think?” he asked, with a broad grin and a wink.
Em’s hand went to her mouth.
“You don’t mean – you haven’t!” she exclaimed. Ron’s grin just got wider.
“Wow, I’ve always wanted to see a Prince Albert!” she said. “Didn’t it hurt? How does it feel?”
Ron laughed.
“Well, I’d be more than happy to show you,” he said. “How it looks I mean. As to how it feels – well, maybe we can talk about that later.”
I noticed Em’s mouth seemed to have gone dry – she was licking her lips.
“But.” He leaned forward. “Fair’s fair. I’ll show you mine – if you show me yours.”
I snorted. My shy, conservative wife was NOT going to take her blouse off in front of this stranger she’d only met an hour earlier.
But Em was already off the sofa, kneeling on the floor in front of Ron, her hands fumbling slightly as she tried to undo the remaining buttons.
Ron leaned forward and brushed Em’s hands down.
“Allow me!” he said as he swiftly and deftly unbuttoned her blouse and, with one swift movement, pulled it down off her shoulders and onto the floor, leaving her naked from the waist up.
I saw Em’s eyes widen – I suspect she had intended to just open her blouse briefly to reveal her silver nipple ring before quickly pulling it shut again, but instead here she was, bare breasted, her soft pale skin ******* to Ron’s devouring eyes.
“Wow. Amazing. Magnificent!” he murmured.
I snorted again. Ron had obviously seen thousands of women’s breasts – I was sure he didn’t find my wife’s that remarkable.
Em shot me a dirty look as if she could read my thoughts.
“Do you really like them?” she asked Ron.
“Like them? I can barely keep my hands off them!” he laughed, and followed this remark by sweeping his palms up her bare arms and onto the soft mounds of her breasts, her hard, pale pink nipples peeping out from between his fingers.
“Hey! I’m not sure you should be fondling my wife’s tits!” I said, though my voice lacked conviction due to the large bulge in my pants as I watched my workmate sweep his hands across Em’s ******* body, squeezing and caressing her soft flesh. They both ignored me.
“So – your turn!” said Em, and reached forward to start unbuckling Ron’s belt.
He laughed, and pulled off his polo shirt, revealing a well-muscled and toned abdomen and torso, before lifting his ass to allow Em to pull down his jeans and shorts.
I heard my wife gasp, but she was sitting between me and Ron, so I couldn’t see the details of what she had revealed. But a second later, she leaned forward and started to lick and nibble at his obviously ******* and erect member.
Ron looked at me over my wife’s head as she took him deeply into her mouth, and grinned.
“Emily! You said you wouldn’t!” I said, rather inadequately and unconvincingly.
Em released Ron’s hard cock from between her lips, stood up and turned to face me, her little pink breasts bouncing, their nipples hard and engorged.
“Sorry Rob, but it seems he is,” she said.
“Is what?” I said, puzzled, as she turned back to face Ron, her skirt sliding down over her hips to land in a puddle on the floor next to her discarded blouse.
“Irresistible!” she said, her brief pink thong also sliding down her thighs and off, leaving her naked but for her black boots.
“Mmmmm – shaved, just the way I like,” said Ron. “I knew you would be.”
Em chuckled throatily and moved forward, one knee each side of Ron’s naked thighs, her legs wide and inviting as he leaned forward to kiss and tongue her ******* sex, his hands snaking around to cup her buttocks and pull her closer onto him.
As Em moved forward, I could see Ron’s erect cock between her buttocks. It was long, thick and curved, and as advertised sported a large silver ring piercing the head. I watched as my wife reached back and grabbed it in her delicate fingers, running her left hand up to the tip to explore the hard metal. I was mesmerized by the sight of her wedding band running over this other man’s hard, swollen flesh.
Ron was still busy licking and sucking on my wife’s intimate places, and I could hear her moaning softly and see her little pink breasts quivering as she moved to the rhythm of his tongue.
Ron pulled back.
“So Emily – I think you wanted to know how it feels?” he said, and pushed her back slightly so that she was standing directly above his erect cock, her legs wide and either side of him. Em moaned louder as he began to slide the tip of his swollen member up and down along her shaved slit, her juices causing the tip of his head to glisten in the light of the table lamp, the bright silver ring disappearing briefly between her lips before re-emerging wet and shiny.
“Mmmm, Em – you’re tight!” said Ron. “Here – I think you’ll find it easier this way.”
Taking her gently by the hand, Ron guided Em down onto the floor, where she knelt with her hands and knees on the rug and her legs about a foot apart, her small breasts bouncing as they dangled beneath her, her ass in the air and her pale shaved slit wide open, the pink tip of her clitoris standing out prominently from her shiny wet lips, her entire sex displayed in blatant invitation.
Ron wasted no time in accepting the invitation as, kneeling behind her, he began to feed his large swollen cock inch by inch between my wife’s welcoming thighs.
Em pushed her buttocks back towards him, pushing more and more of his hard rod into her until finally she was transfixed on his erect penis, his large balls slapping against her thighs as he penetrated her to the deepest degree.
Ron looked at me and smiled as he took his hand briefly from my wife’s buttock to indicate his watch; it was exactly one hour and fifteen minutes since he had first walked through our front door.
For the next hour, I was treated to a virtuoso performance as Ron rogered my wife in every possible position and on every possible surface. I saw Em orgasm multiple times, but Ron was an expert, and every time he himself was close to coming he would slow the pace, or change position, or withdraw and spend some time stroking and caressing my wife’s naked body.
Emily was in raptures, her moans and screams filling the house and, I was sure, clearly audible to the neighbours. I had never heard her so vocal, alternately crying out her pleasure and begging Ron to fuck her harder. He appeared happy to oblige, using and abusing her until I was sure she was about to pass out.
I watched helplessly. At no stage did it occur to me to intervene, or even to object. Instead I watched as this arrogant prick did whatever he chose to my willing wife. In fact, far from objecting, I found myself hugely aroused by the sight of him giving Em pleasure in countless ways in my own living room, and had myself ejaculated for the third time before Ron was even close to finishing.
Finally, as Em lay on the floor with her legs wide open, Ron on top of her with his hands all over her naked breasts, his cock thrusting deeply into her sopping wet sex, I saw his buttocks tense and knew that he was about to reach his own climax. It suddenly occurred to me that he had not been wearing a condom – was he about to push his seed deep inside my wife? I found myself instantly hard again at the thought.
But, at the very last moment, Ron pulled back and allowed his hard, glistening member to withdraw from inside Em’s soft, wet and willing opening. As he leaned back, huge ropy strands of white semen shot out and covered Em’s belly and breasts, one huge gob landing on her mouth. Em chuckled and licked hungrily at the warm sticky liquid on her lips.
They both laughed. Ron leaned over and used Em’s discarded shirt to mop the sticky whiteness from her body, then they both collapsed onto the sofa, sitting side by side as before but now both naked, the red, swollen, puffy state of Em’s shaven pussy testimony to the pounding she had just received, his arm around her shoulder and casually tweaking her swollen nipple and her hand cupping his balls and stroking up and down his semi-flaccid penis.
“As I said Rob,” said Ron, looking at me and addressing me directly for the first time since he had mounted my wife, “she’s WAY out of your league.”
He made the gun-shape with his hand again, pointed at me – and pressed the metaphorical trigger.
