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Candles? Check. Butter, milk and pearl onions for tomorrow’s dinner? Check. Lube and condoms? Check. Everything is set for Valentine’s Day with my husband. The only thing left is to meet Giselle. With grocery bags in hand, I picked up my pace to the coffee shop.
Giselle is a girl I found on the internet. In her early twenties, her bikini body pictures were insane and after exchanging text messages, she agreed to meet with me. I arrived to the coffee shop before her and bought a hot chocolate, watching the door between sips, until she appeared. She had a nice face, long honey brown hair. Her body was tight in boyfriend jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. I waved at her, very relieved that she looked so clean and sane, and not hard and sullen. She ordered a coffee and joined me.
“Thanks for meeting me. I want to get my husband something special for Valentine’s Day. I saw your picture and thought you’d be perfect.”
She leaned forward with foxy brown eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
I awoke excited on Valentine’s Day and took the afternoon off from work to prep for our special night. I called James as I ran water in the tub for a bath.
“Don’t stop for a beer with the guys. Come straight home. I have a surprise for you,” I purred.
My husband knows I like to play at being a 1940’s or 50’s American suburbia housewife. I’m not sure if it’s a fetish, but wearing pointy tit bullet bras, tea dresses, stockings and high heels turns me on. Maybe it’s because I have a ball busting job bossing men around all day, but when I’m at home, I like wearing high heels while cooking and listening to my great grandfather’s 1940’s big band records on the record player while catering to my husband’s whims. James always indulges me. He especially likes when I turn into a bobby soxer, wearing a tight cashmere sweater over a poodle skirt, bobby socks and saddle shoes with my hair pulled back into a high pony tail. I smack my gum as he flips up the skirt and layers of crinoline to ravage me from behind. I love it!
James promised to be home after work and true to his word, he was home around six thirty.
Tonight I was the epitome of a fifties glamour wife, the kind you find in old Lana Turner and Sandra Dee movies. James opened the front door to find me standing near the front door, in high black heels and a red fifties A-line dress cinched in at the waist. Lionel Hampton was playing sweet tones on the record player. My sweetie had a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
I smiled and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, handing me the flowers.
I kissed him before walking into the kitchen to fill a vase with water. He hung up his coat and joined me in the family room where my fire in the fireplace made the whole room bahis firmaları cozy and warm against the chilly night.
“I made you dinner,” I said.
“What did you make?” he asked, taking a seat on the couch.
“Pot Roast, mashed potatoes, peas with pearl onions and dinner rolls.”
My gourmet foodie husband, who eats gruyere grilled cheese sandwiches on rosemary bread, chuckled at my old time all American meal.
“And for dessert,” I said, pulling up my dress past the top of my stockings to reveal my freshly waxed pussy framed under a garter belt, “Pie.”
His pursed his lips as he does when he really wants something before I lowered my dress.
“But first, relax. Martini?”
He loosened up his shirt and kicked off his shoes while watching me add ice to the pre-measured martini already in the shaker. I shook the icy shaker with a deliberate sexy bounce, poured his drink into a martini glass, added two skewered olives and walked it to him. He accepted it then slapped my ass before taking a sip.
“Perfect,” he said.
“Thank you. And thank you for the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you.”
“You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“But I did.”
“What did you get me?”
“A blow job and anal.”
He looked up at me until his eyes shifted away to spot the bottle of lube and condoms in a bowl on the coffee table. A devilish smile eased onto his face.
He said, “Awww, baby, you’re the best.”
He unzipped his pants and settled back against the cushions, putting his hands behind his head, as he leaned back and spread his knees. My husband, the sex monster.
“Now?” I asked.
“Before my dinner, woman.”
“Wait right here,” I said, turning to leave the room.
A few seconds later, I returned with Giselle dressed in white bra, panties and high black patent heels. James sat up. For the first time ever, he truly looked surprised.
I said, “This is Giselle.”
Eyes wide and slack mouth, his eyes roamed up and down her luscious body.
“Turn around. My husband’s an ass man.”
She turned. Her panties clad ass was feet away from his face.
I moved to kneel between his knees.
“You are a lucky man,” I said as I knelt between his knees.
I unbuckled his belt and unlatched his pants to pull out his cock. Staring into his disbelieving eyes. I gave him the mischievous smirk he fell in love with before my mouth slid over his semi-hard dick. It hardened with each caress of my velvety tongue. His hand reached out where to squeeze her ass. When he was good and hard, I opened a condom and holding it my lips, slid the condom down with my mouth all the way down ’til I gagged. With the condom on, I eased my mouth off, stroking his dick with a firm grip as I looked into his kaçak iddaa still shocked face.
I said, “I have to check on dinner. Giselle, will you be a dear and blow my husband?”
She turned and knelt beside me, her long hair hanging over her tits. Her naked shoulders brushed my arms as she joined me between my husband’s legs. She licked his balls as James held his dick in his hand.
I stood and whispered in his ear, “Now don’t cum too soon. I paid for anal.”
I’m not as fond of anal as James. Anal is his treat or my punishment. Tonight, my sweetie gets a treat of another’s pretty ass.
I kissed his cheek as Giselle went to work, taking his now hard dick into her hand and with a sly glance up to him, going down on him with her willing mouth slurping away as she worked the shaft with her hand. I stood transfixed by the sight of this girl going down on my husband. The sight of her head bobbing down on him made me cream between my naked thighs. His eyes darted from me to her before they rested upon her and he began to fully enjoy the sensation of her busy mouth. His hands went into her hair and his gaze remained on the internet girl between his knees. The smell of browning bread roused me from the sight of them. My garters stretched over my bare butt and a rustle of air hit my moist and naked crotch as I moved into the kitchen with a full view of the den.
I put on a pair of oven mitts and pulled the browned rolls from the oven, setting down the cookie sheet as I shut the oven door. I picked up my drink I’d been working on before James came home and watched the sex show from the kitchen.
James was trying hard to enjoy this for as long as he could. He flung his head back to avoid looking at her and then look down at her until he couldn’t take it any longer.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to stop and ordered her to stand. She did, unsnapping her bra and letting it fell to the ground. He reached out and fingered at her satin covered pussy as he stared up at her nice pink tipped tits. He pawed at them, pulling on her nipples, before both his hands went to pull down her panties where it joined her bra on the floor. She stepped out of them. He muttered something into her ear. She accommodated, getting down on all fours onto the couch. He stood, kicking off his fallen pants and stripping off his shorts, and grabbed the lube. He gazed at her ass for a second, rubbing her cheek with his hand, before squirting some lube into her asshole while rubbing his hard and swollen dick with his free hand. He placed his dick head between her cheeks and began to push. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth transfixed in a silent O as he drove into her, inching further into her with each thrust. She fell against the couch with him on top. His hands kaçak bahis pinned her shoulders to the sofa as he fucked her. It turned me on, watching his muscles in his tight ass flex and the look of determination on his face as he fucked her pretty ass.
The timer buzzed. I turned to take the pot roast from the oven and set it down, my pussy now wet. I wanted to kiss my husband and touch her hair. As soon as I put the roast on the stove top, I walked back into the room, to the two of them mounted on the couch. He slowed his fuck as I walked up to him and nuzzled against his cheek.
I said, “You are so hot.”
He kissed me like he never had before, full passion open mouth. He clutched her hair, pulling her head back as he started pumping in her. I bent to brush her hair with an oven mitt and kissed her cheek before returning to the kitchen. James cursed, as he plunged his dick in and out of her asshole until his balls, once slapping against her ass, tightened up and he climaxed loudly with a groan. Her fingers gripped couch pillows. His fingers were still deeply wound in her hair as he shuddered inside her. His arm collapsed and he fell on top of her before withdrawing, sitting up, and off her. I took a sip of my drink to cool down before walking into den and collected her lingerie before helping her up. She wobbled on her heels. James was still working hard on slowing his breath, eyes half shut and still holding his privates.
I said to her, “Giselle, if you’ll come with me.”
James watched us leave until his head flopped back in total satisfaction.
A minute later, I returned to James with his favorite set of sweatpants and a warm wet wash cloth. He removed the condom and threw it in the trash can I scooted nearby and I cleaned his sticky dick with the warm moist hand towel. He shuddered and sighed with a grin.
I said, “I hope you don’t mind I dipped into the vacation fund for that.”
“No. Hell no,” he said jumping into his sweatpants before plopping back onto the couch. “Do I get to see you with her later?”
“Maybe for your birthday,” I said, before tossing the cloth aside and plopping down beside him.
We sat cuddled on the couch, watching the fire until Giselle emerged, ready to go. I got up to go to her, grabbing a box of Godiva chocolates off the counter on the way to her.
I handed her the box and cheerfully said, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
That and the four hundred dollars I gave her earlier, earned us her seductive smile and she left. I picked up the drink shaker to freshen James’ drink. He pulled me down onto the couch beside him, kissed my cheek and hugged me close. I luxuriated in my husband’s smell of faded cologne, man and sex.
“Man,” he muttered. “I wish every day was Valentine’s Day.”
His hand flopped down upon my dress. He playfully inched it under the skirt, up my stocking covered thigh to unsnap a garter for fun. His fingers lingered on my skin.
“Can’t wait for dessert,” he said. “I look forward to your pie.”
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