by David Cain

“Know what I like?” asked Nancy.

“No,” I said sheepishly.

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to show you,” Nancy said. I watched the short brunette walk away from me, her thin cream skirt swaying with each step.

Nancy had been showing me all day. Just after Andrea and I arrived, I had been sitting on the couch with Nancy’s husband, Will, watching the game when Nancy bent over to reach a packet of photos, lifting her thin cream skirt just enough to persuade me that this timid sweet friend of ours had come out to play. Her skirt was indecently short and no panties were in sight. I think the most provocative thing I had ever seen Nancy wear, before that day, was a black one-piece swimming suit. On occasion, I have glimpsed the brown shadow of her nipples through a mask of cotton and lace. Nancy’s pretty even when she’s acting prudish, and I’ve tried a few times to loosen Will’s tongue after a few beers.

“If she’s in the mood,” the slightly intoxicated Will had said, “when Nancy feels in charge, she’s unstoppable. If she’s on to other things, she’ll just frown.”

Nancy sat down nearby. I tried to control my burning desire to stare between her lean thighs. I glimpsed a dark curl in the shadows when Nancy suddenly spread her legs and showed me the pink lips of her pussy. I drank a deep stare and then looked to see if Andrea had seen. She watched the television, mesmerized by some instant replay. I turned back, but Nancy had hidden herself again. I studied her lustily, my senses aroused to discover Nancy’s erotic worth. I liked her body, there was no question about my attraction for her firm, high ass and virgin white breasts. I wanted to push my dick into her mouth, let her cocky little smile wrap around my rod. I wanted to grab her mousey hair and show her how to fuck.

“Here,” said Andrea, handing me a beer. I took the bottle and drank. My wife sat down beside me. Nancy leaned over an ottoman, her skirted bottom lifted up. I gasped at the thought of Nancy exposing herself to me again. I lay my hand on Andrea’s thigh and stroked the tanned flesh as I watched Nancy’s skirt slowly rise. Andrea slipped deftly down along the cushion and pushed her damp pussy against my fingers. I felt the wet velvet of Andrea’s cunt as Nancy’s lips glistened feet away.

Will excused himself.

“Know what I like?” asked Nancy, reaching back to rub her bare pussy and looking at me.

“No,” I said, fingering Andrea.

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to show you.” Nancy winked as she dashed away.

I slipped down onto the floor, to lick my wife’s pussy. Andrea teased my black curls as I tongued her wet spot.

“No panties?” I asked.

“I didn’t think you would notice.”

“I noticed.”

“Everyone always notices. I don’t know why.”

“A woman without panties is living treasure.”

“Anyway, let’s go see,” said Andrea.

“Go see?” I asked, following her up the stairs.

“What Nancy likes. She said she’d show you.”

We stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom. Nancy knelt naked on the bed, Will’s enormous prick in her mouth. Andrea started to rub her pussy. Nancy waggled her upturned bottom, so firm and white, so moistly lascivious in the furrow.

“Fuck me, Steve,” Nancy said, pulling the large staff from her lips. “This is what I like.”

I looked at Andrea. She stared at Will’s cock.

“You do the bitch,” she said. “I’ll take the dick.” Andrea quickly pulled off her blouse as she moved to distract and eventually oust Nancy as first tongue on her husband’s cock. I took my place in the back court. Nancy’s wild when she’s in the mood.

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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