The Morning After: Slut Wife VIII

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The Morning After

“Good morning. How do you feel?”

Andy opened his eyes, head buried in a crumpled pillow with his arm tucked beneath, still naked from the evening before. I was lying beside him in the guest bedroom. Dan had been up for at least two hours. I could hear him rummaging in the kitchen.

“Where Am I?” My husband propped himself up on his forearms, looking for a clock. It was ten past ten in the morning. We rarely slept so late and only when Samantha was staying with her grandparents.

“We’re at Dan’s house… the guest bedroom. He and I had to drag you in here last night. You were totally snockered on the pool deck. How much did you drink? Do you remember anything?”

I was digging for info, feeling the gnawing incisors of guilt chewing on my conscience and the ache that sobriety brings after sinning all Friday night… not to mention the previous weekend.

“I think I fell asleep on the lounge chair outside.” Andy sifted his fingers through his hair, furrowing his brows in concentration. “I woke up, and it was dark. I was dizzy and alone. Damn, I’ve got one hell of a headache.”

“Let me go to the kitchen and get some Motrin or Tylenol. I’ll ask Dan what he has. I didn’t think to bring any medicine when we packed.”

“Did we eat supper last night?” My hubby was searching his presumably empty memory for any crumbs of recollection. I was hoping the cupboard was empty as I left his balls when Dan and I put him to bed.

“You passed out before Dan had a chance to grill the shish kabobs. We both decided to let you sleep since we couldn’t rouse you up, so we saved everything for today’s lunch. Dan put the meat and veggies in Italian marinade, said it would be even better today. The two of us ate junk food… Kettle Chips and onion dip with some nachos on the side. You hungry?”

“Yeah. I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus.” Andy slid off the bed and instinctively headed for the bathroom. “What did you and Dan do all night?”

I felt that familiar fist in my belly once again, something like a self-induced punch to the gut just short of Seppuku. “I told you. We ate junk food while keeping your drunk ass from falling in the pool and drowning.”

Andy closed the door. I got up and slipped on a night shirt. I was naked other than my panties and had put in a tampon during the early morning hours before easing into bed beside my husband. The last thing I wanted was to bloody Dan’s sheets after chumming for sharks in his pool.

I opened the bedroom door and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Dan was wearing shorts and a t shirt, retrieving strips of bacon from the oven. There were warm cinnamon rolls on the counter, drizzled with white, gooey icing and smelling like Heaven. He smiled at me when I grabbed one, just helping myself.

“Sleep well?” Dan handed me a plate. The icing was dripping between my fingers.

“Like a brick.” I chewed as he passed me a cup of coffee. Dan has always been surprised that I take my coffee straight.

“Hot and black, the way you like your men, right?” Dan gave me a smirk. He enjoyed teasing me about sex with black guys. When I was pregnant with Sam, he had shown me a video on his phone; a series of black men banging a white girl’s tight snatch into oblivion.

Their dicks were the size of boa constrictors, and the heading was titled Black Bred Bitches. I must have opened my eyes entirely too wide because he couldn’t stop laughing at me – another innocent conversation that deteriorated into a blatant sexual discussion while sitting at the kitchen table. It cranked up my hormonal fantasies into overdrive.

“That’s right white boy. You’re just a warm-up.” I gave my cinnamon roll a long, lurid lick and then slurped off a glob of that thick, creamy topping. It was Dan’s turn to gawk. “So, can I take one of these rolls to my hugely hung husband in the back bedroom?”

“Go ahead,” Dan chuckled. I was giggling as he opened the oven. “Pick up some bacon while you’re at it and carry a plate back there. You guys getting a shower?”

“Yeah, you want to watch?” I smiled over my shoulder as I headed down the hall.

“I’ll leave it to the two of you for now. Don’t forget, we’re grilling shish kabobs for lunch if you can keep Andy awake.”

“Oh shit, that reminds me.” I stopped in my tracks. “You got any Motrin or Tylenol? I know this might surprise you, but my husband has a killer headache.”

Dan rolled his eyes and rifled through a cabinet, flipping me a bottle of medicine. Somehow, I managed to catch it while still holding the plate in my other hand.

“Impressed?” I had to gloat. I’m sure Dan forgot I was carrying food. My dexterity surprised even myself.

“You’re amazing, Meg. In every way.”

I grinned like a schoolgirl who just nailed her piano piece at recital, then made my way back to the bathroom. Andy was already in the shower soaping himself. I opened the curtain and summoned him towards me, holding up a roll for him to take a bite. “Good?” escort bursa He nodded. I popped a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“I forgot to bring drinks,” I admitted. I had left my coffee in the kitchen… fortunately, I suppose, lest I never could have made that amazing catch. There were paper cups by the sink, so I filled one with water while handing two capsules to Andy. “This should help your head, baby.” He sucked them both down and washed out his hair.

“You getting in?” he asked. It was a claw tub shower with a circular curtain, ornately unique but not a lot of room for frolicking. I pulled off my shirt and dropped my panties on the floor, stepping over the porcelain edge. Andy greeted me with a bottle of generic body wash. It smelled nice in a unisex sort of way.

“So,” he began, clearly feeling more like himself. “What did you say the two of you did last night?”

I squeezed soap in my hair, scanning the tub for conditioner. I didn’t see any. “Are you asking to play, baby?” I wrapped my sudsy hand around Andy’s flaccid member and wondered if he was in one of his ‘moods’ or just dissatisfied with my first answer to his interrogation.

Andy’s mood for role play frequently involved hand jobs with stories about my imaginary liaisons, though sometimes the liaisons were less imaginary than he thought. It wasn’t real role play, at least not as elaborate as Dan’s Cherry-Pop Cop interpretation of virginal deflowering from the previous night. That was an act worthy of an Oscar as far as I was concerned.

Regardless of what Andy might have wanted to hear, his dick responded nicely to some soapy, slick stroking, providing much-needed reassurance to my over-worried mind.

That’s not to say my husband’s persistent questioning wasn’t fracking my brain into a tremor and bubbling a confession dangerously close to the surface. At the time, I was not very good at keeping secrets. I’ve gotten better with added experience.

As much as I had fallen for Dan, I knew it was strictly physical. I hadn’t lost my feelings for Andy, and I didn’t want to hurt him. I had only lost my mind… my entirety of common sense and decency. I was lost in a lustful haze and too weak to fight it, selfishly succumbing to a forbidden attraction.

Friday night was proof. I had every intention of keeping my distance for the weekend, but Dan probably had plans of his own. Although Andy and I had visited his friend many times, he had never previously suggested we stay overnight. Our houses were barely a mile apart.

It had been a week since Dan fucked me twice at my house in one day, the first and only time we had screwed. It should have been a blip on my bad idea radar, erased and forgotten once the weekend was over.

But it wasn’t some inebriated mistake easily brushed under the proverbial rug. It was the culmination of sexual tension a long-time brewing, simmering in our loins since the afternoon we kissed in the foyer… the day Dan came back to me.

“Did you jerk me off last night?”

“I’m sorry?” My mind was drifting back to Dan in the shower. “You mean in bed?”

“No, by the pool.”

Uh oh.

“Well, maybe. Yeah, I might have done that. It must have been extremely memorable if you can’t actually remember me doing that.”

“Was Dan there watching?”

Oh shit.

“Not that I know of. I mean, I didn’t see him while I was working on you.” A white lie. Probably worse. Who can really gauge the magnitude of these things?

“I thought he might have been there,” Andy continued. “Did you pull off my swim trunks?”

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t want you to spurt all over them.”

“So, you’re saying I was naked by the pool asleep in a lounger while you and Dan were standing around eating chips?”

“I think I covered you with a towel.” Bold faced lie. I left Andy nude beneath the stars and the moon. I was totally wading in shit, digging my grave.

“You think you did?”

“Well, yeah. You couldn’t have covered yourself. You passed out cold after I made you come.”

“And the two of you carried me naked into the house?”

I swallowed heavily. Andy was losing his erection. My hand job wasn’t dissuading his concerns, and I was weary from weaving around his pointed questions, not to mention terrified at what he might ask next.

“Yeah, we carried you to bed naked, Andy.”

“Oh my God, Meg! That’s so embarrassing! I’ve told you already how I feel about that, and now you deliberately set me up to have it happen again?”

“Hey, maybe before you drink yourself shit-faced you might consider the consequences! How bout that?!! Would you rather me leave you outside for the buzzards? Would you rather I let you stumble in the pool and drown? You couldn’t even walk with assistance, Andy. I couldn’t wake you up. What would you have me do? Dan said to leave you out there, and I said ‘no’. I made him carry you inside.”

“You told Dan to carry me to the bedroom naked?”

“You would have preferred bursa otele gelen escort the roof? Yeah, I told him to pick your drunk ass up and carry you to bed. What of it? I know… I know. You’re embarrassed about him seeing your dick. Get over it, Andy. Guys look at each other all the time. They shower together in college for Christ’s sake. Didn’t you see other guys naked in college? Didn’t they see you?”

“Yeah. That’s why I don’t care to be seen.”

“Well, you got seen in the barn last weekend!” I paused. This was getting brutal and there was a nerve throbbing somewhere. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? As I said, maybe you need to back off the alcohol a little. You don’t need to drink yourself into a stupor.”

“Maybe you don’t need to undress me at my friend’s house, and maybe Buzzards don’t fly around at night.”

“Oh my God, Andy. Buzzards wake up in the morning. The first thing they’ll probably do is eat your dick.”

Andy stared at me, unamused.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled off your shorts. That was inconsiderate of me. It was stupid.” I looked into Andy’s eyes. It had been a while since I had stared into those crystal blue orbs.

I felt worse than he knew, worse than he could have ever known. Andy was shuddering at the peak of the iceberg. God forbid he should discover the titanic mountain beneath. This shit with Dan would have to stop. All of it.

“I kind of like how you look when I take off your shorts, Andy. It’s such a temptation.” I dropped to my knees in the tub and put his cock in my mouth. I sucked it all in… so easy compared to his friend’s mammoth manhood. I licked it and stroked it. So delicate. So sensitive. So completely manageable. No gagging. No coughing. I looked up into his face. He was getting hard again.

“Let’s get out of here and go to the bedroom, Meg. I want to fuck you.”

I reached down and showed him my string, the little white fiber protruding from my slit. “I started my cycle yesterday, babe.”

In a moment’s notice there was a flash of expressions, the first being agitation… perhaps disappointment. But then the second, unexpected. Relief.

Andy’s face relaxed as did his entire body – relaxed from a tension that I hadn’t recognized, a tension I hadn’t noticed. It was there the whole time. Why didn’t I see it?

“You started your cycle yesterday?” He repeated.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. It kind of screwed up the weekend, didn’t it?” Andy was the kind who could never imagine having menstrual sex. It had never even crossed my mind to ask.

“Maybe. I’m okay with it, though.” My hubby touched my cheek gently. “I guess I was worried.”

“About what? You thought I was pregnant?”

“No, not that,” he laughed. “I just thought something was up, that’s all.”

“What sort of something?”

“I don’t know. Something with Dan, maybe?”

“Me and Dan?”

“Yeah.”

There was a tap on the door. “You guys used up all the hot water yet?”

I rolled my eyes while Andy blushed. I could never get over his shyness. It was kind of cute. “Go back to the kitchen, Dan, unless you want to video this! We’ve got plenty of hot water, thank you very much.”

“Okay, I’m putting lunch on the grill, Meg, so hurry up and get Andy off. I’m tired of you people delaying meals around here.”

“I’ve got my meal right here, Dan. Go get yourself a cracker.”

Andy was speechless. He reached over and turned off the water. He was still hard, still throbbing in my hand. As embarrassed as he appeared, I still had his attention. He reached for a towel, and I grabbed his hand.

“I’m not done here cowboy.”

“Do what?”

“You heard me, Andy. I’m not finished. Neither are you.”

Andy reached for the soap. “You want to jerk me off?”

“No, Andy. I want to suck you off. I want you to cum in my mouth. I want you to shoot down my throat. I want to lick cum off the end of your dick.”

“Are you serious?” he whispered. I’d never even offered anything like that before. I had never tasted my husband’s cum. How crazy is that?

“Serious as a heart attack, baby. Serious as a shish kabob straight up your ass.”

“What? Are you fucking nuts?”

I laughed and gave his cock a long, wet slurp. “Okay, how about a tongue up your ass instead?”

“Did Dan put Kahlua in your coffee this morning? You must have had something when you went to the kitchen.”

“Do you think I have to be drunk to eat your cum, Andy?”

“You’ve never done it before.”

“Turn around,” I told my husband. “Wrap your hands around that shower pole and lean over.”

“For what?”

“Just do it, Andy.” He did. “Spread your legs, cowboy. I want to see everything you’ve got.” I put my hand on his back to push him down further.

“What are you doing?” He looked back at me with concerned curiosity. I started kissing his butt cheeks and fondling his sac.

“Whatever I want,” I whispered. Without bursa merkez escort warning, I licked up his crack – praying that he had at least rinsed it off. He had… and thankfully, he doesn’t grow much hair around his anus. I opened him up and licked him again, this time more slowly and sensually. Andy’s eyes widened as he watched me probe his tight sphincter.

“Oh, God,” he mumbled, resting his head against the cool, metal pipe. I had worried about his possible reaction. This was what I had hoped for.

“You like that tongue, baby? You like it when I rim your butt hole?”

“Where did you learn how to do this, Meg?”

I hesitated, then pushed my tongue deeper, trying to take his mind off the question. If he knew where I learned it, he probably wouldn’t enjoy it so much. “Reach back here and spread your cheeks, baby. I want to play with your dick while I’m eating your ass. I need both of my hands.”

I stroked Andy’s stem between my thumb and two fingers. They were all that I needed, in sharp contrast to Dan’s double fistful of tube steak. My husband required only the slightest encouragement… the softest touch possible at a steady, slow pace. “Did you take Viagra last night before we started drinking?”

“How did you know?” He was already breathing erratically, so hard and so ready.

“Let’s just say you were more responsive than I expected, considering you were stoned out of your mind. Did you do some weed too?”

Andy wouldn’t say. He was paralyzed with pleasure as I sucked on his scrotum, slipping my middle finger up his saliva coated chute. The sweet sounds from his throat were like a guttural symphony. I was almost surprised at his willingness to let me finger his rectum.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass, Andy. I’m gonna fuck it soooo gooood.” I pumped my finger in and out as I buffed his small penis between the pads of my digits. When I found my hubby’s prostate, I massaged it in a circular motion. His little bag of marbles tightened as if I had pulled its purse strings. “Tell me when you’re coming, babe. I want your load in my mouth.”

The suggestion was all that it took. His circumcised head turned a violaceous purple and his shaft started bobbing like a cork. “Turn around,” I ordered, quickly spinning him by the hips until his cock hovered over my smile.

I was ready in two seconds, and I briefly recalled the moment that I ruined his orgasm by the pool. This morning would be different. This morning, I would stroke him until he spewed his white ribbons across my tonsils. This morning, I would show him how it looks to shoot cum on my face. I’d give him his own personal porno, and when he finished, I’d lick the drops from his slit as his erection receded.

Andy pushed back against me as I kissed him. I was as tall as him and firmly held his face as I locked to his lips, my tongue wrestling its way between his gaping incisors and spitting his sperm down his throat. He coughed and gagged, but I pushed it all in before wiping my cheeks on his complexion.

“What’s wrong with you?” Andy stumbled backwards and almost fell out of the tub. We had both nearly air dried completely, having turned off the shower much earlier.

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused by his response.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Meg? Why did you spit that shit in my mouth?”

“You don’t like the taste of your cum, Andy? You need to get used to it.”

“Why?”

“Because I plan to feed it to you more often. It’s only fair. I suck your dick after you shove it in my pussy. I taste me. You can taste you. Tit for tat.”

“But I don’t like it,” Andy responded.

“Learn to like it.” I stepped over the porcelain edge of the tub and washed off my face in the sink. My hair was a mess. My makeup was gone. I had that unkempt look of the girl next door… the one who wore baseball caps over her ponytail and the oversized jersey of her brother’s uniform with holes in conspicuous places.

“Where did you learn how to do all that?”

Here we go, I thought. More interrogation. “Maybe I watch porn while you’re sleeping on the couch at night.”

Andy studied me by the counter. He wasn’t sure if I was serious. I grabbed a small trash bag from under the sink and pulled out my tampon in front of him. He had never seen me do that during the years we were married, and he was obviously totally grossed out.

“Get out of the tub,” I told him. “I need to clean my pussy… that is, unless you’d like to do it for me.”

Andy stepped on the bathmat gingerly where he watched me bring down the shower wand and spray myself out. I could feel the weight of his stare but pretended I was completely alone. “Can you hand me a towel, please?”

I wrapped myself up in the soft, cotton fluff and proceeded to comb out my hair – straight across my shoulders and down the middle of my back. It was a damp chestnut brown, slightly lighter than my small strip of muff. I slipped in a fresh tampon, allowing the string to drape freely between my bare labial folds.

“What else did you learn on those porn sites?” My husband had finished drying himself off. He was searching for a hair dryer.

“I learned that lots of guys like to fuck women on their period. There are sites dedicated specifically to that kind of kink.”

“Sounds pretty disgusting to me, Meg.”