Bob’s Dinner with Sex

TITLE: Bob’s dinner with sex pt1

DESCRIPTION: Dinner, sex and flashback

KEYWORDS: Hugo Martina Bob dinner sex

CATEGORY: loving wives

TAGS: wife, milf, dinner, oral, hand-job, blue balls

Note: Fictional story. Characters and situations not real, and are not based upon any actual person. All characters of legal age 18 or older. There are no minors in this fictional work.

“Well, Hugo, I’m stuffed but this food is so damn good I don’t wanna stop. With meals like this, still don’t understand how you haven’t turned into one fat pig in all these years. I gained 2 lbs from the last few meals that I haven’t been able to burn off yet.”

I wasn’t lying.

“Oink, oink.”

Hugo was always amazing at sound effects. Could scare the crap out of anyone if you didn’t know he was near.

“I’ve gained a few in the last 5 yrs according to a nag, and she refuses to accept that it is because of her cooking and that we’re getting old.”

“WHO’s getting old!” Martina was quick to follow.

Unexpected, since I thought she was not focus on the usual table chit-chat, at least I would have sworn she wasn’t.

Hugo had a good laugh. At the time, I though he was laughing at his wife’s response. Now, I begin to think it was because he could distract her and get her to respond.

“Keep it up, Bob, you’ll burn it off, you always manage some how. I read swimming and…, ahhh, what was it, oh yeah, sex burns it off pretty fast. At least according to the mags my wife gets. She says she really enjoys cooking, the opportunity to use her hands and be creative, but she still only cooks like this a couple times a month at most. I’m glad she got something out of all those classes I paid for.”

Martina passed at that one. I’m not sure why. I doubt she missed any of it. She and Hugo sometimes taking loving jousts at each other, as husbands and wives do, competing to win with the last word. A friendly game of quick wit between the two, occurring only when both are in the mood and the environment is appropriate. The spoils, no cheap kiss, to the victor. Or, at least it use to be.

I was grateful to her for not participating further in the banter. I was being selfish. Surprise and concern was neck-to-neck in second. She typically didn’t let any reference to her spending slip by without one hell of a swing at it. Not always a grand slam, but she’d always connect and she never eliminated herself by her own play. There had been a few times she made me laugh so hard it hurt, and I had tears in my eyes, and they would follow with their laughter and then their fun game was a rain out. Days later I asked her what she would have said. She stated that she was working on something, big, but wasn’t quite ready at the time, and she wasn’t going to let it escape her mouth prematurely at that time. Slowly revealing a grin, she added, she wasn’t sure she would do the same next time. I conceded, knowing she wouldn’t say more, or that it was necessary. I had reservations about her options she did not offer.

Money never was an issue between them. Both with common sense and smarts, I always suspected they had understandings about certain things between them. Hugo was very happy to pay for the classes because it brought her joy. It was a present to her. He didn’t even give a shit if she never made toast and coffee for him again. He understood value. Even today, he loved her as much as he did the first time he decided she was the one.

But, I wasn’t quite done yet, especially since I thought I still had a good return ready.

“SEX it is then! Thanks for the advice Hugo. Never cared to be in water over my head so never tried to learn how to swim. And, NO ONE is going to try to teach this old dog who still has his own teeth.”

I really thought I had him. But Hugo, was holding more.

“Bob, you haven’t even started on her deserts yet. You may need to go swimming as well.”

I understood value too. I looked away from Hugo and upon Martina.

“Martina, thank you very much for another truly wonderful din…NEERRR!”

The last syllable, at a much higher pitch, barely clearing my throat as a very talented mouth unveiled my engorged head, quickly adjusted, and immediately sucked in my freshly shaved, cum-full balls. I have previously learned of this and a few other special ways Martina says thanks and shows appreciation. I don’t think I could ever get tired of it. Her tongue caressed each ball when she wasn’t trying to suck them deeper into her mouth. A few minutes later, I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out, cum, or do both simultaneously. Wasted hope. Martina wasn’t going to allow either to happen just yet.

She was sucking on my balls with a passion, and with intent. A truly enjoyable experience beyond just getting licked. She worked my balls towards her throat, held them there as if getting ready to swallow them, then suddenly released them. As my sore balls tried to snap back to a more normal position, she blocked their exit with her front teeth. She repeated this numerous times with both balls and other times with only one. Good fortune continued to shine on me when she demonstrated that she could hold one or both balls in her mouth and play with them with her tongue.

When Martina first enlightened me of her special knowledge and talents, I initially jumped to the wrong conclusion. I thought she was either trying to get my boner bigger and harder, or she was testing the strength and endurance of my sack & balls for some yet to be revealed reason and future fun. But, having previously been in this same position with her, I wasn’t nervous now. Martina had told me it’s sexy and she gets really turned on seeing a guy’s balls hang down, low, below a hard or soft shaft, it didn’t matter, just so long as they could be seen from any angle. She thinks her fondness originated from her grade school studies of Greek and Roman art and history, and rapidly increased and matured during high school with the help of an increased access to boys. She admitted, after some hesitation over concern she’d be called a slut, she always nearly cums from the feeling of balls slapping against her when she’s being fucked. Adding, it was also a lot of fun for her, playing with a guy’s balls in her mouth and with her tongue, and sucking or pulling on them was an easy way she knew to get what she wanted.

Dinner with sex we referred to it. Lacking imagination only in name, it was no longer for me as strange or uncomfortable as the first couple times. Not once since she first served me this way at the table did she loose control, or, allow me to. The start always the same, well, so far. Martina seductively eases out of fuck-me heels, gracefully finds her spot beneath the table, and immediately starts giving me incredible head or a hand job, but not before she places a full plate and wine glass on the table before me. I am already hard before her fingers pulls at my zipper. Hell, I am hard and already leaking thinking about Martina and what we are going to do before driving to their house.

Martina is the first to give me a blow job while I eat, well, a proper one, other than the time back in college when I was munching on popcorn. That shouldn’t really count if you come down to comparing a chef-prepared 3-course meal and a bowl of popcorn. Until Martina showed me the errors in my logic, I saw no point in mixing the two. Above other things, it struck me as unnecessary dangerous, like getting head while driving. Just wasn’t how or when I wanted to get my thrill. Unlike girlfriends, I’d truly miss my buddy if it was gone for good, so I will wait for other opportunities no matter the dry spell. In college, I dated a psycho psych major for almost two terms. Not the dumbest thing I did, college or otherwise. The witch decided she wanted to have some fun while I was watching a movie to wind down after an exam. After all the complaining that I only had sex on the mind, she finally pulls that stunt. Senses recovered, I realized I shouldn’t waste an opportunity and did not kick her out of my place. I put down the popcorn for a few minutes so she could help me shoot my load in her mouth. As it turned out, I was right after all. The movie can be resumed, rewound, and returned without having to pay a late fee, and the popcorn didn’t get stale during the short intermission. Not more thrilling than the movie, I was happy that a mouthful was all she took from me. To this day, I believe the bitch was conducting one of her freakin’ psych games and experiments, just that no electrical shock was my reward or penalty. I didn’t stick around to find out how she was going to involve her toys the next time.

During dinner, Martina has never allowed me to stop eating while she was servicing me. Keeping me hard and seconds from cumming was all she did while I ate the meal she had prepared and BS’d with her hubby. I learned that if I stopped eating, drank too much too soon, cleaned my plate before she was ready, or moved my crotch around too much to her liking, the blow job or hand job stopped and Martina held my head by only two fingers to let me know she was still there but she was a little disappointed. It wasn’t the end of the games, thank heaven, she just delayed my fun just long enough to make her point. Oh, and, hands had to remain above the table at all times. She was more than capable and didn’t need any help or want any interference. Also, there was no reason to get up from the table before she gave permission. You weren’t done until she was. It took only a few violations to learn these rules.

After more swallows and sips, more BS with her husband sitting at the opposite end of the table, and more attention to my balls by her mouth and tongue than I thought I could withstand without shooting my load, Martina finally started to take off her blouse. As she undid the first button, she moved her mouth back to my head and proceeded with her lips going slowly down and up on my penis. My balls were safe in her mouth but I was actually glad for the change. This time, it didn’t take her long. She had my balls sore, properly sore, by the time I consumed the contents of my first glass. That milestone had past a while ago. I am certain it would be a slightly painful experience if she had made me cum right now even with the amount of alcohol clouding my head and inducing the beginning of numbness. Through experiences, I found Martina continues to milk a cock even after it proves beyond a doubt that it has been drained empty. Certain she knows your not holding any back, so, I’m sure she enjoys the action as well as seeing the guy in agony while his body still responds to her. Nevertheless, the feeling after a long tease is addictive and I would still have enjoyed it completely if she had let me cum.

Lip service continued after her top hit the floor. My dick kept disappearing into her mouth, and then reappeared. Sometimes emerging sopping wet, sometimes not even a drop of moisture. Fast, then at times, agonizingly slow. Teasing with her tongue, and teasing without. She kept things unpredictable, sometimes reversing direction before getting to the tip, pausing at the tip before going down again, or playing her lips up against the hole. Since more of her skin was revealed, I took the opportunity to look upon her beautiful, full breasts cuddled in that delicate, lace bra. Well chosen, a tease itself, hid minimal flesh and distracted no more than necessary. But, having seen it before, not the bra, it was not long before I wanted to rip it from her chest.

More food, drink and chit-chat. There wasn’t much else to do, or allowed. Martina was now using her tongue, licking up and down my pole, and lucky, very lucky me, sometimes swirling around the head. Again, she demonstrated her talents, removing her bra as her tongue teased on, all while keeping me on edge and not decorating her with my cum. Finally, more eye candy. Her tear-drop breasts didn’t change form when freed from the restriction. I enjoy the sight of her breasts as much as the rest of her body, but I am an ass man if forced to bet on a team for the championship title. They were naturally symmetric just as other parts of her body were, that is to say, with minor differences noticeable. Decades after feeding, her breasts were still full, firm and uplifting. What a wondrous sight. Nearly circular, almost nickle-sized areolas complemented her breasts. Their smooth, mildly darker tone helped locate the protruding nipples, prizes in themselves. She understood our current positions didn’t provide the best view. Being a tease, Martina improvised, moving her body now and then just enough so that her nipples were revealed. Little doubt, she sought pleasure by rubbing her breasts and nipples against my legs or pushing them into my crotch and thighs.

Martina’s talented tongue started to play with my head with devotion. She explored it as if it was her first time. It surely wasn’t. So was it her way in all she did when we were having sex. Her current activities were as exciting to me as the previous, or the first time. I nearly came several times in the last hour, and now I was just short of exploding. In the balance, Martina held my need and my desire. I needed to cum, the sooner the better. The tease and denial combination she applied was agonizing being so near to the edge. Ironically, I still desired to hold out and continue to the rest of the night’s fun planned. After all the work, I knew I would not be the only one very disappointed if I didn’t get any further than the meal on the table. Martina desired both situations, and there, her conflict. Her desire for the rest of the fun was stronger and must be recognized and applauded for her self control and focus. She sensed that I was close and adjusted accordingly before I got what I needed. Oh so close. I was equally frustrated and thankful at the same time. She eased up with her tongue, and with my balls in the palm of her hand, Martina held them tight as she not so gently pulled my boys away from the rest of me.

Already sore, the tractor pull was a little over the top. But, likely with only one chance, I guess she wanted to make sure it work, and the girl had to do what she had to do. It worked alright. Just another sign of her vast knowledge and talents. So much to be proud of and such humility icing it. Instantly, I wasn’t freakin’ thinking of cumming. Far from it. An ancient Canadian glacier to rest my naked balls on was all the imagination I could muster. Either there was a soundtrack to go with that scene or, I may have been talking, perhaps screaming, without realizing it. I could have sworn I heard a soft female voice start ‘Oh, Canada’. And with a mind’s eye, long before getting through the first verse, the image was replaced with an unsympathizing nurse in an ICU grinning at me, and without a soundtrack.

I’m not sure how I managed not bouncing my skull between the oak of the table and the high back of the chair like a ping-pong ball. For the most part, her game rules must of sank in at a subconscious level because I didn’t even fall out of the chair grabbing my buddies as I hit the stone tiles. My eyes started to water. She anticipated and graciously allowed my auto-reflex of trying to close my legs; apparently a no harm no foul sub-clause. Right, like I was going to ask about the fine print when this started months ago. I now sensed I wasn’t as hard as I previously was. Apparently satisfied the danger of shooting my wad was removed, Martina began alternating between licking my head and balls. She already knew some of my weaknesses and it didn’t take long for her to distract my mind off the soreness and focus back on the fun. Martina kept it interesting and mixed things up. Sometimes she also pulled both together and other times she yanked on just one of my balls. Playing them between her fingers, a loving tap, or a twist here and there from her playbook was not excluded.

Eventually, she focused on my hole. Something new, and took me by surprise. With a tongue suited for French kissing and BJs, no, likely for coercing orgasms from pussies, Martina licked and licked trying to entice it to gap open. One side of the hole, then the other, my tip clinged to her tongue for the affection. Short of success after laboring a minute, she retasked her tongue to making my hole morph to contorted shapes. It wouldn’t be long before it had too much attention and then it would be pretty uncomfortable for days to take a piss. A pearl necklace was apparently out of the question. With a proper tug or squeeze to one or both of my balls now and then, she avoided being blinded from a point-blank shot of my cum. Minutes gone by, she now aggressively pushed the tip of her tongue into my hole. Apparently one of those situations, I couldn’t help but think that not much of a lawyer was necessary to convince a jury of piers, or at least morons, that a crazy woman was on her knees between my legs and trying to split my dick lengthwise.

Defeated, and at risk of disappointing my hosts, I could go no further and stared at the remains on the plate before me. It was probably for the better, I did gain a few pounds, likely from her meals. But, I was still in the right of mind and had no intention of risking our relationship. Playing the wimp role with a inadequate stomach and appetite was the best option. Topics for small talk with Hugo ran out before wine poured a third time below the rim of the crystal glasses. Martina occupied herself by teasing and playing with my head and balls. By now, it wasn’t just my dick and balls that hurt. My ass and lower back started to cramp and burn from sitting in the same position so long. I probably should stretch my legs as well before it became necessary for help to get out of the chair. Martina stopped now and then to gaze upon her masterpiece; my dick hard, head raw, hole gaped, and balls tender and my sack red. Yep, I was in heaven.

I looked down at Martina when I realized the break in action was a bit longer than expected. I caught on from previous times, she was doing it on purpose. There were times for the admiration of a voyeur. She focused on my exposed, gaping hole she crafted. I could not tell if she found what she was looking for, and I almost made the mistake interrupting her with the question. Attentively, she squeezed and rolled my balls, each under the care of one of her thumbs. Sore or tender boys did not spawn compassion from her, nothing short of a good job was her objective. I admit, though sore and tender, it was a great feeling and she could have easily made me cum just then. But, she did not want me to cum yet, hence her light-handed work. A drop played peek-a-boo with her. Not satisfied, with a single upward stroke she milked my pole with her left thumb while still rolling lefty. Now larger, the drop balanced on my tip like a gymnast on the beam. A smile appeared on Martina’s face. While repeating the stroke, she rolled righty. Increased in size, the drop now desperately clung to my tip. When our eyes met, her devious grin emerged. It had no chance of escape, she cleaned my tip with one slow swipe by her tongue Before I could focused on something above the table, she was back giving my head and balls the rest of the workout she had planned.

The familiar creak from their wood stairs caught my ear. The floor plan and table seating provided me a limited view as long as I stretched my neck a bit for my head to touch my shoulder. Announcing not the ‘Rodent’, but beautiful Ana, in a tasteful short summer skirt and sleeveless top, with her naked foot on the bottom step. Her toned legs allowed her to glide from my view without further noise, leaving me only a glimpse of her long brown hair and beautiful ass, both swaying and disappearing into the family room.

Her ass, which I dreamt about frequently since the first day we met, teased me as she walked away from me. A now empty wine bottle in her hand, encouraged a suggestive thought that she fantasized it was an endowed dick, and me, that it was mine. With the glasses now filled again, the short intermission was over.

I had been invited over for dinner and family events before, often actually. Rarely taking second in my priorities, I would escort the gift when their door opened, while invited family were often absent. However, beyond that and there was a dinner at the table, not much was normal this time. Little did I know on the way over, the night was going to be the freaking craziest in my life, or that it would reoccur so frequently that I didn’t bother to count. And, although more nervous than I had ever been, before I finally fell asleep, I would experience enjoyment I could have only imagined. A private event, relatives and other friends were not invited.

Not a normal conversation as we shared in the past, a monologue of how it got to this point, if anything. Little laughter there was ended before the first glass was emptied, and mine went pretty damn fast thanks to the unexpected topic being discussed. Typically, our laughter could be heard all night and in every corner of the house. I, mostly drinking by this point to help deal with what I had heard so far, only nibbled at the plate before me so I would not become completely wasted. I had never puked in their house from uncontrolled drinking before, and tonight wasn’t going to be the first, no matter what else happened. The food was outstanding as always and I prepared for this meal, but my mind overrode the signals to feed my mostly empty stomach. Normally, if my plate wasn’t at least half cleared by now, it was because I am holding out for desert.

With glass topped off, Hugo was back to drinking, eating, and listening. Apparently, he would only add commentary if necessary, and provide verbal confirmation that he agreed with his wife when I looked at him in surprise at what I heard. Though I was part of the topic being discussed, all three of us were, thus far I found myself with less to say than Hugo. Not a loss of words, or questions, it just didn’t feel right to interrupt unless absolutely necessary. Martina resumed what she apparently had plan to say.

She began to think she would have to give up on me if I didn’t catch on after three more hints. She started to take it personal that I either missed or ignored her signals. But she and Hugo talked about it. Confirming they both still preferred that I would be the substitute when Martina got tired going solo with her toys, she then plotted this tell-&-show-me over the dinner she cooked for us. While I took that in, she smiled at me for a few seconds. Then, she asked again if I would be willing to be her sex partner, effective immediately. Her smile returned immediately with no sign of force. Her eyes betrayed her desire for an acceptance of her offer.

I guess it is human nature for silly things to pop in one’s mind at the strangest of times. At least I hope I am not the only one in the entire human race suffering from that ailment. I had just been asked the most important question that I can recall, and did I think about the question or just answer it. FREAKING NO! My mind began a review of history like I was cramming for a college midterm. The situation just revealed to me, and I’m trying to analyze events between now and their wedding for any signs that I obviously missed. I know when I first became sexually attracted to her. But, where were the signs the feelings were reciprocated? In the last month or two, where were the signs of her offer? I concluded I wouldn’t make a good Private Dick. Then again, maybe I would have, since I knew my glass was empty again.

Crap! A really strong pull on my sack of blue balls immediately snapped me back to the present. The feeling reminding me of waking during a wet dream before getting the chance to finish it with the proper ejac. Martina has done a great job since day one of we’re fucking like bunnies, making sure my boys are always some shade of blue as often and as long as feasible. Honestly, I’m not tired of it yet, and don’t see that happening anytime soon either, but it is difficult to keep up. If there’s a limit to the amount of energy she possesses, nothing we’ve done so far has come close to her being spent. Martina looking into my eyes, with a frown transitioning to a big smile, apparently thought she’d kill two birds with a single shot, in hope of a new record for the long pull.

Obviously, she took it as an insult I lost my focus. Rightly so, of course. A point given up again, that I would need to get back with interest. Lucky her desire was strong, else my fun time probably would have ended here, one way or another. I already knew it wasn’t wise, even if the truth, to tell her that I was affectionately thinking of her while I drifted.

I was very appreciative of all her efforts under, as well as out of reach of that table, and not just for today. Of all the times to be reminded, I understood that as soon as possible, I should get her expensive, new jewelry, made of quality metal with real precious stones if they had them. One more for her collection of plugs. I enjoy looking at her ass, playing with it, and fucking it as much as possible. An apology as well as appreciation, I would contribute once again to her cherished collection. Far from taking the space her shoes did, it was already an impressive collection of sex toys by the day she shared that secrecy with me. But, what did I know. Until now, I had never seen one in person, let alone use one to tease and penetrate the ass of a gorgeous woman. In agreement, she and her husband still took care of growing the former, while I, acquired the responsibility of increasing secrets she held. At least she used more than once whatever I gifted to her, I certainly made sure of it as there was always a way to work it into our fun she had planned.

Not sure if Hugo knew what just happened to my poor balls. He stood up and disturbed the nearly motionless shadows observing everything this night thus far. Simultaneously, Martina relaxed her efforts on my balls, though not fully releasing her grip. He could not see through the table, but maybe it showed on my face and thought it was a good point for an interruption and begin his exit. Perhaps, part of their own master plan, Martina to perform that maneuver on me at some point, signaling she was ready for his exit. Regardless, he knew there was more nasty fun planned, and presence of the man of the house was no longer required by the woman of the house or their guest.

Hugo raised his glass in our direction and then downed the small puddle that was on the bottom. As our talented slut under the table returned to gently handling my balls, lightly playing with them before I completely lost my boner, Hugo instructed us to carry on, wished more happiness and fun for us before we all were through, and bid us good night. Adding as he turned away, he was going to stuff what he could in the dishwasher and toss the rest into the sink, get the machine started and hoped the noise as it worked would not interfere, then go say good night to his only daughter, and finally hit the hay.

He stopped and turned his head, saying while forming a smile, HE wasn’t going to wipe clean the table in case WE were going to use it. Part of their plan, a prediction, a hint to me, or subtle declaration of shared responsibilities, he never confessed. Forgetting myself and much more, all of a sudden, I felt like I should do some thing in return for a truly satisfying dinner. In a natural reflex, as I use to always do when invited over for dinner, I found myself asking out loud if I could help clear the table.

Shit! I screamed, but silently after all, Hugo was a mere 12 ft away in the kitchen. My foolish pride surfaced while experiencing an infliction of more pain in the same area mere seconds apart. Well, at least I knew the cause. I would not have to go to a doctor, except, perhaps for treatment of busted balls, not to identify a contagious condition. The bitch under the table just gave my original best friends a bear hug with a hell of a twist and tug, all at the same damn time! WOW! I freaking didn’t need the reminder of the thin line between pleasure and pain. Apparently, Martina wanted no unnecessary break in the action and felt her husband can take care of the cleanup by himself. My frustration increased. I was almost willing to cum now, missing out on the fun to come, and get it over with so any future punishment, though light, would be avoided.

My mind managed to command my eyes towards my crotch to give Martina a small WTF look, so I don’t know if Hugo was looking in our direction.

Hugo, clearly and loudly said, “Bob, don’t be silly, that’s what the dishwasher is there for. To do the wife’s job so she can relax. Don’t ya know, now there’s even robo-vacume cleaners for the floors.”

I naturally lost focus again, temporarily forgetting what Martina had just done. It was funny, what can I say. I let out a soft laugh.

Distracted, slow registering that he said it not just for my benefit, unable to claim innocence for my discretion, and before the existing compounded pain subsided sufficiently, it freakin’ happened again! Not sure the sound was faster than the nerve.



Whispers slipping beyond my lips enough that the bitch under the table let me know that she heard me. My balls received a decent slap with the bitch’s free hand. There was insufficient enjoyment from her demonstration of that skill. My luck! Wife takes it out on me for what her husband said, and that I found a little humor in what he said. The husband clearly more guilty than the audience. Another strike in the ‘life’s not fair’ column. I was beginning to wonder if pain was all I would feel between my legs for the rest of the night, and likely for the next couple days even with ice applied.

I happened to catch Hugo while my head was still swirling from the pain. He was turned toward us, hands full, and was wearing the mischievous grin. I had seen it many times before. It confirmed in my mind that he had set a trap and I fell into it. Not the first time or last. The only question remaining, and I wasn’t convinced of the answer, was if his wife was in on it. Afterwards, he would not confide in me if it was part of the great plan of the wicked. Joker to his core, he said it was his lawyer’s advice. Doubt vanish, but not entirely.

I managed to stay seated, and probably could not get up that instant even if I wanted to. Martina was now back to gently holding my sack, kissed each ball, and resumed playing once again with them. The kisses only registered as a minor pleasure, she didn’t French ’em. She clearly didn’t want the fun and games to end prematurely for any reason.

After starting the washer, Hugo reappeared and tipped his imaginary hat in our direction, walked around the corner and into the family room. I barely heard him tell his lovely daughter that he and her mother loved her very much, told Ana to have fun but don’t loose too much sleep, and then expressed his wish of a good night to her. Seconds later he reappear, only to disappear going up the stairs to their master bedroom, another room in the house that had not been excluded from the action I was giving his wife, and, she to me. Either all their closets were packed full like hers in the bedroom or, she was saving them for last.

After a minute or two passed, the slut had me hard again. While keeping me in that state without cumming, she laid passionate kisses on my head and balls, and used her tongue to wipe any fluid escaping the hole. Apparently keeping to her schedule, after minutes of this fun, she emerged from under the table, still holding the head of my cock. After licking her lips, her smile reappeared. She pinched the head as she French kissed me. Finally, it was time to move on for the rest of the fun. Remaining clothes came off with ease in record time.

Over stone and wood, we slow danced. I led, caressing Martina’s firm ass and breasts. Our bare feet feeling every detail of textures that added to our arousal. Funny, neither material provided any such feeling as I recall when Hugo and I laid down both in back-breaking work over 4 days years ago.

My haze slowly dissipating as the last chorus in our minds began the fade out. I found us finally in their family room, as planned apparently, sufficiently lit by soft light. I was not cognizant of the passed time on the short journey but could determine our toes were uninjured. Knowing she meticulously cleans before I arrive, most inhibitions are non-existent. A prelude to the rest, I palmed Martina’s left cheek. My finger playfully sought and found her ring. Felt earlier only when pressed up against her breasts, her moans now became audible, occasionally just above a soft whisper. After circling the prize a second time to assure her there was no mistake, I pushed, but remained at the boundary, intentionally unsatisfying as a penetration by anyone’s judgment Relatively soon, it, and others, would be trying on her ring for size. But now, it was my turn to tease until frustration, hers.

My balls still kind enough to remind me of the time spent at the table, I continued returning the favor. Restraint is typically not my strong point, not in these situations, but I didn’t let it drop in and go exploring just yet. I willed my finger to massage her hole and push against it, but not enter. At the advice of my doctor to avoid another visit to her office for repetitive motion injury, I mixed things up. Occasionally, I would make it do a lap or two. Sometimes after pushing at her hole, varying the direction I would drag my finger outward pulling it slightly open. I even had my finger make a pass over it when I traced her crack a few times. Martina’s moans continued, now louder than earlier, but I doubt they could be heard beyond the room.

Not unlike the other times while I prepared her hole, the slut I was balancing on the tip of my finger sought satisfaction and tried to impale herself by pushing her ass out towards my hand. And, as before, the visitors stopped by; The Sod to whisper in one ear and The Pain in the other. No different an offer by either this time, it happened that I went with the advice of the latter yet again, and kept my fingers out of her hole a little longer. One of these times, I’ve got to try The Sod’s advice for everyone’s sake, and plunge several in and wiggle ’em about.

I was enjoying myself, perhaps too much. It was then that I finally heard a soft, sensual moan coming from another source. I managed to pry my eyes from Martina. I found another lovely face with eyes just as wild with desire. There before us was her daughter nude, and calmly kneeling. Between her thighs, one of our favorite toys I have yet to regret buying for her mother, a dildo suction-cupped to that level wood plank floor I laid a few yrs back.