Three Wives Ch. 03

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Every man fantasizes about being with an older woman who has a healthy libido and is extremely creative in bed. These women really do exist; women who live and breath sex. Spending time with Natalie gave me a terrific perspective on life. Quite frankly, it amazed me that even at this point in my life a woman could be a sexual mentor to me, a living tutorial on total pleasure in bed.

Our thing – Natalie and me – all started on a trip out west, to Phoenix.

These days my work gets me out on the road a bit. But even though I’m a tenured professor I’m no big shot; I fly coach like the rest of the poor slobs. And somehow I ALWAYS end up sitting next to some old battleaxe, either that or some horrible troll who grunts and farts and snores like a pig. When I got on the plane this time, I couldn’t believe my luck when I found my seat and looked down at the vision of loveliness I would be spending the next three hours next too.

A good-looking woman in her late forties, with black hair cut a little more than shoulder length, jet-black hair so shiny it seemed to be slick with oil. Her face was simply beautiful; flashing brown black almond shaped eyes, and lips full and pouty and painted a bright red that seemed to float against her alabaster-white porcelain complexion – it was if her lips were an entity unto themselves.

She was dressed in a businesswoman’s gray wool suit, tailored to hug her curves. She had the professional look down to a t, right down to the ubiquitous strand of pearls. Her skin was so white that at first it seemed she was wearing a collarless white dress shirt beneath the suit coat.

I stowed my bag in the overhead bin, then indicated my seat by the window. She smiled, but didn’t budge an inch as I leaned over before sitting down, as if purposefully allowing a prerequisite glimpse down the front of her gray suit jacket. I could not help but feast my eyes on her generous cleavage; two round, plump white birds nestled into the white lace cups of her brassiere.

When I was finally able to tear my eyes away from this marvelous sight and look up she was regarding me with a confident, steady eye. Her face betrayed no sense of indignation at my gape-mouthed staring. I managed to make it past her to my seat without drooling and when I’d settled in we exchanged smiles. She extended her hand. “My name is Natalie.”

“I’m Sean.”

And then the small talk proceeded – where are you going? what do you do? – the usual crap you say to strangers on a plane. But Natalie seemed genuinely friendly, and our conversation continued. We talked about our respective spouses; she had a ring on her finger and a diamond the size of a hens egg. Natalie seemed interested in my work, the fact that I was a psych professor seemed to pique her curiosity.

Natalie’s chic appearance was enhanced by the way she carried herself; there was a certain sense sexual self-confidence about her that intrigued me. Throughout the whole flight as we conversed I fantasized about her naked, on her back, thrashing about in the throes of passion; a total sexual animal.

Then it happened.

I was wearing an open collared shirt, no tie, and Natalie caught a glimpse of the tattoo on my chest. I was blabbing away about some stupid shit when she said, “Excuse me.” I didn’t mind her interrupting me because her fingertips were at the opening of my shirt. “What is this?” she asked, gently tugging to see more. “May I see? What kind of a tattoo is this?”

It’s a big tattoo and it tends to draw an inordinate amount of attention even when it’s partially exposed. An Oriental piece, my tattoo portrays a battle between a giant octopus and a semi-naked geisha girl. I got it out in Asia, but that’s another story. The octopus and the geisha are rolling in the surf and the waves are pulling her totally transparent kimono away from her body. The girl is fully exposed except where the octopus’s tentacles reach around; the look on her face is one of total ecstasy. Like, she’s not struggling too hard to get away from the creature, right? Needless to say, this work has drawn a fair share of comments from the opposite sex over the years.

“Go ahead,” I told her, “you can have a look.”

Natalie undid a couple of buttons, held my shirt partially open with a couple of fingers, and then she became totally drawn in. She finally had my shirt unbuttoned down to my waist and pulled wide open, her hands were on my chest and she was plain open-mouthed gawking. “OH . . . MY . . . GAWD!!!”

This is the usual effect.

When she’d had a good look I chuckled and buttoned up. Then I glanced down at the rounded tops of Natalie’s magnificent pair and with a suggestively raised eyebrow and a nod of my chin I said, “Now that I’ve shown you mine, what about you showing me yours?”

For a split second Natalie’s eyes bounced back and forth to the lavatories to the front of the plane. I laughed, giving her a break, like I was only kidding, right? But I knew, ümraniye escort from the way she blushed right up to the hairline, that I had totally read her mind. And she knew it, too.

* * *

The story would have ended there. I’m a pervert, I’ll be the first to admit it, but I don’t go out of my way to stalk married women. I mean, I’m a notorious flirt, sure, and I like to indulge in the occasional risqué repartee. I welcomed Natalie’s company on what would have been another dull and dreary flight, but at the time I had no way of knowing that our little tête-à-tête would lead to any thing, and certainly no serious intentions.

The flight ended uneventfully. We disembarked, picked up our luggage and headed our separate ways. As she made her way toward the taxi stand Natalie gave me a little wave over her shoulder, and I smiled wistfully at the thought of what might have been as I watched her walk away, watched her asscheeks going up and down beneath her miniskirt like two piglets in a sack.

I checked into my hotel, cleaned up, and ordered dinner from room service because I really can’t stand eating in a restaurant by myself. Then I sat around in my shorts and a t-shirt, had a beer and watched TV. Then I dozed off, and it was already way past eleven o’clock by the time I heard the knock on my door.

I went to the door and peered out the little peephole; I NEVER open a hotel door for anyone, especially this late at night. At first I thought my precautions were warranted because I didn’t see anybody, but then I heard a little voice. “Excuse me! Excuse me! I’m so sorry to disturb you! Can you help me please? I’m locked out of my room!”

It was a woman’s voice.

I was both puzzled and suspicious. I put the little security chain in place and cracked open the door. “If you’re locked out why don’t you go down to the front desk?”

“Because I’m naked!”

This got my attention. I leaned as far as I could with the chain still in place and noticed a woman’s hand waving from a little alcove in the hallway, about ten feet from my door. I recognized the rings on her fingers: it was Natalie.

“Please can I have a towel or something? It’s freezing out here!”

“Uh, yeah, wait right there.” I kicked a shoe in the door to keep it open, fetched the shirt I’d worn that day off the floor and tossed it to her. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much,” Natalie said, doing up buttons as she came around the corner. Sure enough, it didn’t strain the imagination to see she was bare-ass naked underneath my shirt. “I’m so sorry. Can you call the front desk now?”

“Uh, sure,” I said, trying hard to keep my tongue from lolling straight down my chin like a hound dog on a hot day. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I was in my room, and I thought I’d get some ice. And so I popped out the door, and the door clicked behind me, and believe it or not it wasn’t until that moment that I realized I wasn’t wearing a thing!”

Poor little Natalie, not quite the self-confident woman of the world I’d met earlier that day on the airplane; all wide eyes and totally embarrassed, but still quite beautiful. Stunningly so, in fact.

“Do go on…” I uttered, wanting to hear more.

“Well, I like to be naked,” Natalie said, “I like being nude as often as possible. I believe nudity is healthy, actually. After the flight, the first thing I did when I got to my room was take off all my clothes. To relax, you know.”

“Uh, sure. Yeah.” For some reason I wasn’t really Mister Conversationalist at this very moment.

“And I truly forgot I was naked when I went out into the hallway to go to the ice machine.”

“Okay,” I said, moving toward the telephone. “You realize you owe me for this, don’t you?”

“Oh, I know, I know, I know! Thank you so much Sean, I’m so glad you’re staying here, I’m so glad it’s you who answered the door and not a total stranger!”

I chuckled at this as I picked up the phone and called down, the night clerk said he’d be right up. I hung up the receiver and looked up at Natalie, awaiting her comment. A slight smile played about the corners of her mouth, and in those eyes was the smoldering heat of a volcano. It was the look that a man gives a woman as he unbuttons her blouse and leans forward to kiss his lover’s breasts. Despite the coolness of the air-conditioned room I was almost flushed and perspiring.

Natalie was beautiful, she was intelligent, she had a charismatic smile and a naughty look in her eye; saying yes would have been oh so easy, but the fact that she had a ring on her finger was slowing me down. Contrary to whatever impressions you may have, I don’t stalk other men’s wives, and I don’t go out of my way to be unfaithful to mine.

So instead of anything happening, Natalie and I simply hung out by my door until he showed up and let her in. Natalie gave me that same little wave and smile over her shoulder she’d given me at the airport: ‘Toodles!’

I went back into pendik escort my room, shaking my head and wondering for the millionth time in my life how women would ever make it in this world without men.

Then the phone rang.

“Hello, Sean?” It was Natalie.

“You locked out again?”

“No, not exactly. I was just wondering… …why don’t you come down to my room and I’ll give you your shirt back?”

Whoa! I thought, No way! I was about to get lucky with a looker like Natalie! “I’ll be right over,” I said.

* * *

Natalie’s door was cracked open. I entered; the room was darkened, the only light coming from the bathroom and the little kitchenette alcove.

Then I saw Natalie. My jaw must have hit the floor and stayed there for a full thirty seconds.

She was nude, of course, and she was absolutely beautiful; more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined.

Natalie simply looked at me with a pleasant smile as my eyes took in her delicate neck, her bare shoulders and terrific pair of knockers that just wouldn’t quit; they were so big and round that they almost seemed float above her impossibly narrow waist. I estimated her at 36D at the very least, her fabulous tits were capped by a pair of wide, pink nipples.

She came up to me, stood very close to me; I couldn’t keep my eyes from traveling down. She had a flat belly and a pleasantly slim waist that flared to a generous set of hips. The tiniest patch of dark hair adorned her mons, cropped close and neatly trimmed into an abbreviated patch, her pussy was shaved completely bald from the clit on down. A pair of firm, shapely thighs completed the whole package.

She looked down, smiled, looked back up at me. The time for words and small talk had come and gone. “Let’s do it,” she whispered.

I took her in my arms and we kissed, long and slow. She parted her lips and our tongues played a gentle game of tag.

I traced my fingers down her back, moved my hands around her slim waist, then traveled further south to cup and hold the cheeks of her round ass. As one would expect with a mature, adult woman, Natalie had some meat on her there, but by no means would anyone describe her ass as fat.

Then Natalie went to her knees, pressing her face against my cock through my shorts. She put her hands to the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down to my ankles. My boner pointed straight up at the ceiling. Eyes closed and smiling, Natalie moved her head back and forth, left and right, rubbing her face all over the hot underside of my cock.

She teased me like this for a moment, then stood back up and strutted across the room to the bed, purposely giving me a perfect view of her bare ass. Natalie lay down on the bed, one knee up, and started massaging her full, round breasts, pinching her nipples to a delightful stiffness.

Needless to say my dick was getting harder by the second. I stepped out of my shorts, pulled my t-shirt over my head and joined Natalie on the bed. Our lips joined, our tongues did battle, and as we kissed her fingertips played with my rod and tickled my balls. I touched her round breasts, pinched her stiffened nipples, then moved my hand down and touched her hot clam. We were both so ready.

Then I was on top of her and my rock hard cockhead was poking right on her hot, wet pussy lips.

“Do you have something to wear?” she whispered.

“No.” Getting some strange isn’t something I usually plan on during my travels.

“Hand me my bag.” I reached over to the chest of drawers.

Natalie fumbled around in it and produced a little foil packet; she apparently carried condoms around with her when she was on the road. I was too close to a good thing to ask any questions, I didn’t even dare raise an eyebrow. I was obviously in bed some kind of female player.

Natalie expertly tore the little packet open with her teeth. She withdrew the rubber and reached down; the sensation of her dainty hands rolling the thing over my cock was a trip in itself.

And then I was in her. Even with the condom on her pussy felt gloriously hot and tight; I swear I could feel her hot wetness right through the rubber. Natalie wrapped her lovely long legs around me and started coming the second I plugged in, incredibly enough. Good thing, too, because I was coming up right behind her.

I sank my fingers deep into her ass, buried my face in the pillows next to her head and roared like a lion as I came in buckets. There was no way the condom could contain it all; the wet sticky stuff was splashing out, I could feel it on my thighs. Natalie cried out, “Ah! Ah! Ah!” then let loose with one long, loud “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E!”

Natalie’s a screamer, apparently.

When the long orgasmic moment was finally over I lifted my face from the pillow. Still connected, we looked one another in the eye and then we kissed, long and slow; everything was beautiful.

* bostancı escort * *

The phone was ringing. I looked around, tried to remember where I was. It was morning and I by myself. I was just about to lift the receiver when I remembered we’d drifted off in each other’s arms after making love, in Natalie’s room. Natalie was obviously in the bathroom and I stopped myself from answering it just in the nick of time.

Natalie came out of the bathroom, naked as a jaybird. She gave me a big smile and a knowing look. It’s the husband, of course. She smiled at me and perched herself on the edge of the mattress as she picked up the receiver, and I was treated to a delightful view of Natalie’s ass as she spoke on the phone.

Then I had to get up because it was morning and I’m a man and my raging hard-on was telling me to go take a piss before it exploded. I quietly lifted the sheets and made my way to the toilet.

I cleaned up a bit, then returned to the room, naked like Natalie. I don’t like my thing hanging out in the breeze so I poked around, found my trousers and pulled them on just as Natalie was finishing her phone conversation, “Yes, hon, I’ll see you on Thursday or maybe it’ll be Friday. Uh-huh. Yes. I love you too. ‘Bye, honey.”

Natalie finally put down the phone and turned around to face me. “That was, you know, the old-ball-and-chain.”

“I’ve got to go and call mine now.”

Natalie nodded. She was still seated on the side of the bed, still fully nude. Her jet-black hair was slightly disheveled; with the bright morning sunlight reflecting off her ivory white skin, she looked like a perfect angle, an angel of the morning. Natalie leaned back on one arm, her magnificent tits poking right out to her front. “Sean, before you go. What happened last night, between us…”

“I hope you mean ‘what’s happen-ING between us’.”

“What’s happen-ING between us,” she smiled, “There’s something I want to tell you.”

I sat down on the mattress facing her, curious as to what she was about to say. Tilting her head, Natalie indicated the phone, “That was my husband, of course.” I nodded. “I love my husband, very much, as much as I hope you love your wife.” I nodded again; I DO love my wife, very much. “It’s just that, well, maybe I’m different than other women.” She indicated the mattress where we’d made love, the tousled bedclothes. “I’ve come to accept that maybe I’m more like a man in the way I view sex. Not just making love with my husband, bless his heart; I need a certain, well, excitement in my life.”

I nodded again; there wasn’t much to say at this point. Natalie put her arms out to me and I accepted her embrace. She ran her fingers through my hair and kissed me on the cheek; it was still early in the morning and neither of us had cleaned up properly from the night before. “Now go to your room and call your wife and tell her that you love her, then meet me downstairs and we’ll have breakfast together,” she smiled.

As a parting gesture I helped myself to a pair of pleasant handfuls. I squeezed her luscious tits, kissed and sucked her beautiful nipples, bringing them to a delightful hardness. “Oh, stop it!” Natalie laughed, “You’ll make me want to do it all over again!”

* * *

When I got back into my room I called my wife. “Where were you?” she asked, “I tried calling you earlier.”

“I was out, working out.” She accepted this; I do like to keep in good shape, and anyway it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“How’s Phoenix?”

“Hot already, and it’s only eight in the morning.” There; we’d been on the phone for less than thirty seconds and we were already talking about the weather.

“Miss me?”

“You know I do.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“It’s okay, honey, I know how it is for you. If you want to do it yourself, go ahead; I give you permission.” She was talking about masturbation; she doesn’t like me looking at porn when I’m with her. Giving me permission to beat off when I’m on the road is her idea of being modern and liberated in our relationship.

“Thank you, honey!” I smiled. Of course, I was taking her meaning to rationalize what was going down with Natalie.

“So what are you going to do today?” she asked.

Chase Natalie’s ass all over town, I thought. “Meet with the guy from the University,” I replied.

“Oh, that’s good.” While the conversation dwindled into the usual humdrum I grabbed the bedcover and pulled it to the floor, messed up the bedclothes so the maid would have something to do. I mean, it didn’t necessarily mean a thing if she knew I was tagging Natalie; maybe talking with the wife made me feel guilty or something.

“OK, I love you, honey,” she was saying.

“I love you, too.”

“Call me again tonight,” she said.

“You call me, these hotel phone calls get real expensive.”

“Okay, what time?”

“Hmmm. I dunno. Okay, I’ll call you and then you can call me back.”

“Okay. Love ya.”

“Love ya,” I meant it.

“Bye,” She made a kissing sound.

“Bye,” I kissed her back.

Then it was time for the shower, then go downstairs and find Natalie, to join her for breakfast.

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