It was typical of Jennifer. I hadn’t given her anything; well, at least not for years. It was my birthday, or actually for my birthday which was still a month away. She’d taken me out: she always takes me out sometime close my birthday. On the actual day, I’m out with John unless we decide to switch to another night. After ten years of marriage, we aren’t always particular about the exact night if we have other things on.

But here she was, taking me back to her apartment after hinting about a gift. The evening had been nice: the Duck L’Orange had been wonderful, the Chocolate Mousse was perfect: I was very glad she hadn’t make a fuss with cake and singing or anything like that; and, well, I admit I don’t really know wine, but the Chianti was wonderful too.

And now she said I had to stop at her apartment. She unlocked the door and we went up the stairs. Her apartment wasn’t large: the living room was pretty small, but she had it nicely decorated. She made me sit and stepped out. “I’ll be right back,” she said, smiling.

I sat there, not wondering about it too much. She usually gives me a little present for Christmas: an ornament or something. She came out with a nicely wrapped package: the thought store wrapped jumped into my mind, but I suppressed it. I wondered if it were candy, but when she handed it to me it was obvious that it wasn’t.

She grinned at me as I unwrapped it.

It was a nightgown. And not a large one.

“What do you think?” she asked. It was black. And thin: transparent, really. And short. There would be nothing left to the imagination.

“I love it,” I said. I’m afraid I didn’t sound too convincing because I was so surprised. I’d certainly never worn anything like it.

“Think John’ll like it?” she asked. “I’ll bet you’ll have some fun.”

John. I made myself a smile. I think I did pretty well even though I was feeling a little funny about all this on the inside.

Yes it made sense: wear something like this for John. It’s just that I’d never done anything like that before: what would he think of me turning up in this thing one night? It’s just that after being used to each other for so long, you get comfortable, or you get uncomfortable at off-the-wall things like this.

I wasn’t sure I could explain all that to Jennifer, who obviously felt she’d figured out how to do me a real favor. She looked so thrilled as I held it up. “You’ll love it: I know,” she said.

I felt like she was reading my thoughts: she could see that I wasn’t sure about this. “I do,” I said, conjuring up some enthusiasm.

She was still smiling, but I detected some concern behind her facade. It struck me that Jennifer and I, who could talk for hours about anything, were getting nervous with each other. “Try it on,” she said.

Try it on?

“Try it on,” she repeated, “You’ll see.”

“Uh, I like it. Really.”

“Oh, do it just for me: please? I know you’re going to love this. Please? For me?”

I sat there with my mouth open. How was I going to get out of this? After my mind raced for about two seconds I realized the best course was to humor her. “OK,” I said, suddenly a little hoarse, and stood up. She didn’t offer any advice as to where to change, so I took it into her bedroom.

I looked around the room. She does have a nice touch: she likes everything just so. I looked again at the little thing I’d just agreed to model. I wouldn’t have any secrets from Jennifer!

It crossed my mind that maybe she was interested in seeing me in it. Jennifer? Had she somehow detected my secret bisexual proclivities? Not that I’d ever been interested in Jennifer; sure she’s attractive, but she’s been my best friend for too many years. She couldn’t possibly entertain thoughts like that about me: she was just too traditional and man-oriented.

I looked at my body in the mirror before I slipped the thing on. I should hit the gym more: not that I don’t go, but, well, I’m not getting any younger. I put it on.

It did look pretty good: covering up a few problem areas. I’d never seen myself looking like this. I found myself thinking that I might actually go through with it: wear this thing for John. Maybe Jennifer was on to something after all.

I walked out. The living room was dark except for a bunch on candles on each side of the room.

“Jennifer?” I asked, suddenly thrown off my guard.

She walked in from the area of the front door–only it wasn’t her! I stared at the woman, my mouth hanging open.

“Hello,” she said. I placed her: it was Gina! I almost died.

“Gina! What… ?” I was at a loss for words. How could Gina be here? Gina was an aerobics instructor at the gym. And she was something else.

I hate to say this, but she was, well, the woman of my fantasies: she’d done all kinds of things to me in my mind while I’d been in bed with John. I couldn’t understand how she could be there. She smiled. She was dressed in street-clothes which was part of the reason I had trouble placing her. “You’re looking very fit tonight,” she said. Her smile had a little edge to it: I wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t fathom it. No one knew about my fantasies.

“Your friend: she insisted I come. She said you definitely act a little strange whenever you two talk about me,” she said. She’d approached me and somehow I’d failed to back away.

“Where is she?”

She laughed. “Oh, she’s willing to give us some time.” Her fingers were on the nightgown, and she slipped them under the shoulders.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you.” She continued to smile. I felt her lifting up the nightgown. Here was Gina, undressing me. It hit me like a ton of bricks: this wasn’t merely an embarrassing moment–it was also a thousand fantasies coming true.

I soon stood there naked. She put the nightgown around behind my neck, then slipped it gently back and forth so it caressed the back of my neck. “Unbutton my blouse,” she said.

I stood there, probably in too much shock to react. “Do it,” she said. I found my fingers on the buttons. “You want me: we know you do,” she said. The blouse was parting, revealing her bra. It was black. “Take off the blouse,” she said when it was completely unbuttoned. After I did, she pulled the nightgown from around my neck and turned her back to me.

I looked at the hooks of her bra. She didn’t say anything or look back at me. She obviously just expected me to undo it. She wasn’t disappointed.

She slipped it off and I found her facing me again, the bra around the back of my neck where the nightgown had been. I glanced down and saw that her jeans were unbuttoned and a little bit unzipped, though they were still on. Her breasts were beautiful. She pulled me close until my face was inches from hers. “Kneel,” she said and smiled. She let go of the bra on one side and pulled it away and flung it off. I stood there, once again mesmerized.

“Kneel,” she repeated. “You’re going to finish undressing me.”

I was so nervous I don’t know how I did it: my fingers trying to get her zipper down. Soon I found myself looking up at her nude form as she looked down at me. She took my hand and drew me up, then pulled me back into Jennifer’s bedroom.

She turned off the lights, but left the door open, the candlelight shining through the door. I found myself in bed with her. Her hands roamed up and down my stomach, close to my breasts, then close to my sex. I lay there, still feeling stunned.

“Aren’t you going to touch me?” she said.

But I’d had another thought: John. Here I was, in bed with someone else! It had happened so quickly. Too much wine? Too much surprise? How had I let this happen? Then her lips were on mine. And I was lost.

Our bodies pressed together: I felt her breasts against the skin of my chest. Her fingers: the things she did, her fingers between my legs. My arms wrapped tightly around her, my hands on her back. It was as sweet as I’d always imagined it would be. I came twice. I was going to come again: all from her fingers. She kissed me again, then kissed my face, my ear. I felt I should be doing something for her, but all I could do is cling to her. “You like this,” she whispered in my ear.

I was too far gone to be able to verbalize an answer. “You love this,” she whispered. Her fingers didn’t stop. “This drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” she said. Repeating, she said: “doesn’t it?” and I could tell she was demanding an answer.

“Yes,” I managed to say, through my breathing.

“Women drive you crazy, right?”

“Yes!” I think she knew how to torture people by keeping them close.

“You love it with women!”

“Yes!”

“But you also like your husband’s cock.”

I had a fleeting thought that I was surprised to hear her say that, but I couldn’t hold it together. “Yes!” I said.

“You want me and his cock, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes!” I think I was saying yes to anything she came out with. If she’d said something ridiculous, I’d have just gone along with it. Her fingers wouldn’t let me come, but wouldn’t let me back out. I felt like I was screaming my answers.

I felt something. Pressing in me: I realized someone was pressing inside me. Someone was behind me! A cock was inside me! Gina’s lips were suddenly on mine and her fingers never stopped.

Then she’d drawn her head away just a little and she pushed my cheek with one hand, making me turn my head. The man in me was John.

author: Cyan Stories

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 8th, 2009 at 11:25 am and is filed under Erotic Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.