My wife and I have this couple we see a lot from church. I actually helped the guy out when he was looking for work. Got him a job. Good guy. His wife, Marcy is polite, warm, a little too warm. She’s got a great body. Slender but with an ass that’s completely unfair. Even in the most modest slacks, you can see the shape of it, like her clothes are trying and failing to behave.
She’s always happy to see us. Hugs that last a little longer than they should. Eye contact that lingers a beat too long. Her husband doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he’s just decided to ignore it.
One night we were at a group dinner… some event, I don’t even remember what, and I overheard Marcy say to my wife, “You know I have the hugest crush on Mark.” Said it like she was talking about liking red wine or having a favorite show. My wife laughed and said, “I knooow you do. So does every wife here.” I smiled and acted like I didn’t hear it. But I did. And I remembered.
A week later we all go out to dinner. Afterward, they’re driving us back to our place.. Somehow, it ends up with her husband and my wife in the front seats, and me and Marcy in the back. I don’t know if it was planned or just happened. But the second the doors shut, I knew it was something.
We hadn’t even pulled out of the lot when she slid over next to me. Close. Warm. Her thigh against mine. She leaned in, her voice low and unsteady, breath hitting my neck.
“Do you know how much I love you?”
I laughed it off, but her hand was already under my arm, slipping toward my leg. She shifted her hips, leaned in closer.
“I see how you look at my ass,” she whispered. “I like it. I think about it when I walk in front of you. When I bend over in the church kitchen.”
Her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh. Then my balls. I froze. My heart was hammering. She was staring at me like we were the only two people on earth.
In the front, our spouses were chatting like nothing was happening. He had to see this in the mirror. There was no way not to.
Marcy climbed halfway into my lap. Her breath was in my mouth. Her lips brushing mine. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist. My hands fell to her legs without even thinking. Smooth skin. Warm. She started to grind her hips over me, the cotton of her panties slick already. She grabbed my hand, pushed it between her legs, right into the soaked fabric. I could feel everything through it, heat, softness, the swell of her clit, the hair under the thin material.
She undid my fly. My cock popped out, hard as I’ve ever been. She didn’t stroke it. Just pressed her thumb into the underside and looked into my eyes.
“Take the long way home, Darryl,” she said.
And Darryl, from the front seat, said, “Yeah, maybe we’ll take a little drive.”
She knelt between my legs. No teasing. No warmup. She took my cock all the way into her mouth, fast. Her throat caught it and she gagged, quietly. Then again. Wet. Hot. Her head bobbed slowly while the front seat filled with polite conversation and classic rock.
I was frozen. Rock hard, mouth dry, heart pounding. But she was relentless. One hand on my balls, the other steadying herself against the seat. The suction was steady, wet, and somehow silent enough that I almost convinced myself no one could hear.
Then she pulled off, gasping a little. She turned, pulled her panties down from under her skirt. I saw her bare ass rise, barely a foot from the back of the driver’s headrest. She climbed back into my lap, straddling, hot and dripping. She slid her pussy against me slowly, letting my cock run through her folds. I could feel the mess. She kissed me then, wet, hungry. Her tongue filled my mouth. Her hips shifted, and suddenly I was inside her.
She gasped. Eyes wide, locked on mine. Her pussy gripped me like a fist. She rolled her hips, slow and deep, grinding down into my lap with quiet, shaking breaths.
They kept talking. We were silent (I thought, anyway). Just the sounds of her breath in my ear, her thighs clenching around me, the soft wet slap of our bodies.
She didn’t say anything about her husband. Or my wife. She didn’t act like it was a secret. She just moved, up and down, steady, like this was what her body had been waiting for. I held her ass in both hands, fingers digging into the soft curve, trying not to lose it.
When the car turned off the freeway, she started to fuck harder. Faster. Her breath caught. Her thighs started shaking.
“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered. “I’ve needed this for so long.”
She dropped her head to my shoulder. I felt her tighten. Then she came. Hard. Hips grinding, breath catching. And that was it for me. I grunted once, tried to hold her in place, and then I was pulsing inside her, wave after wave.
She didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, holding me inside her. Her hair clung to her face. She gave a soft laugh, a kiss, and then slid off, fixing her skirt.
She rejoined the conversation like nothing happened.
We pulled up to our house. Everyone said goodnight. My wife reached for my hand as we walked to the door, laced her fingers through mine, and didn’t say a word.
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