My wife, Daisy, was standing in our livingroom wearing nothing but a tank top. She was on the phone.
"Seven o'clock?" Daisy said, "And that's on the patio... right? Okay... great. Yes... table for three." She glanced at me, winked and smiled.
Daisy was standing with legs parted and her ass thrust back - lower back arched hard.
Mark, my friend and our houseguest, was on his knees kinda beneath and slightly behind my wife - his face buried deep in Daisy's buttcrack. Eyes closed Mark made sloppy, slobbery sounds - sucking on Daisy butthole. Mark was infatuated with my wife's butthole. Mark was only wearing a t-shirt and black socks. I don't know where he'd left his shorts. He was stroking his hard-on furiously.
I looked at my watch and said, "Seven doesn't leave much time, sweetheart."
Daisy rang-off, handed her phone to me, and reached back to spread her buttcheeks wider. Mark made a groan of lip-smacking ecstasy. Daisy laughed bawdily, smiling with delight. Her eyes blazed with mischief.
"We'll leave as soon as he's done," She said.
"Cumming or making you cum?" I said - poking my fingers down my wife's cleavage and pulling the front of her tank top down, lifting her tits out from the boob hammock. I rubbed my thumbs back and forth across her stiff nipples.
Daisy said, "Making me cum. I don't care if he cums or not."
My wife, Daisy, and I had a good long soak in our hot tub. We were nice and relaxed, warm and pruny. It was late, the neighborhood quiet. We were both naked. Our skin steamed in the cool night air. I was drying-off. Daisy was lifting the cover to the tub back into place - struggling with it a bit. She was bent over, her big white ass bare and vulnerable.
Seized by sudden whimsy, I coiled my damp towel into a rat tail and flicked it at my wife's backside. It connected with a whip-crack explosion that sounded like a rifle shot in the quiet of the night - surprising both of us. Daisy yelped, grabbed her butt with both hands, and spun round in a hopping manner - bouncing her big tits. Her eyes were watering and she bit her lip.
I felt awful. I hadn't meant to hurt her. I was just goofing around. I rushed forward and embraced her - apologizing.
She whimpered into my neck, "That hurt," She said - still holding her butt.
I apologized again. I stepped back to look at her, "You okay?"
She sniffled, but turned round and, placing her hands on the hot tub cover, looked back at me over her shoulder and said, "Do the other one."
Friday afternoon. I returned home from work and found my wife sitting out on the deck in the shade of the umbrella. All she was wearing was a tank top and sunglasses. She had her sunglasses on top of her head, holding her hair back. She had her legs folded over to one side, knees together, kinda sitting on one hip and looking at her phone. She looked-up as I slid the patio door open.
“Heya Whoopsie,” She said. She put her phone down and smiled at me. Put her hand down to cup her naked buttcheek.
“Hey Daisy...” I walked over, noticed her bong on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table as I leaned down to kiss her. She tasted like dope smoke. “How’s it going?”
She made a vague noise and picked-up her phone again and began pecking at it with her thumbs.
I crouched down and kissed her naked buttcheek. She didn’t look at me or stop typing, so I spread her buttcheeks - intending to bury my face between her cheeks, and saw she had a plug in her asshole.
“Robert’s on his way,” She said, matter of factly - still not looking at me, “He’s staying the weekend... be here in about an hour.”
I sat back on my heels, my hand holding her hip. My heart was beating hard and my pulse throbbed in my ears.
She glanced at me, “What?”
I counted to five and said, “You want me to leave?”
She sighed and put her phone down and looked at me, “No... I’d like you to stay... but only if you want to stay.”
I felt warm and short of breath. My ears felt red hot.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Whoopsie,” She said, “Robert understands.”
I grunted noncommittally.
She sat-up and put her feet on the floor either side of my knees, took my face in her hands and kissed me on the mouth. She looked at me, “Please stay. I want you to.” I made a point to not look at her hairy crotch as I caressed her thighs. She hugged me. “I want you to stay... to join us. I want you to join however you can.”
I held one of her breasts - brushed my thumb across her nipple through the thin fabric of the tank top, going back and forth until I felt it begin to stiffen, “Can I...”
She let go the hug and, arms on my shoulders, looked at me. She tousled my hair and smiled affectionately, “Sure... if it’ll make you feel better,” And she peeled her tank top up over her head, leaning back with her knees spread wide.
I put my face into her crotch and breathed-in her musky funk. I nuzzled my nose and cheeks against her pubic hair and flicked my tongue across the nubbin of her clitoris. She shivered briefly and sighed. I looked-up at her. She put one arm back over her head and grabbed the cushion behind her. She smiled down at me, and with her other hand, pulled gently on the nipple I’d caressed.
“Take your time,” She said, “Take all the time you need.”
I awoke when she shifted. It was early - the bedroom bluish-black in the dawn. My wife, Daisy, dug her elbow into the pillow at the side of my head and huffed and puffed as she started to wriggle out from under the bed covers. She heaved herself up into a sitting position - shaking the entire bed, pushing against my shoulder, and scrunched her legs up to her chest to shove the covers down. Then she rolled over, away from me, to climb heavily over Robert who had slept on the other side of her.
Robert grumbled grumpily, "The fuck?" But he didn't open his eyes.
Daisy stumbled to the bathroom - her naked bottom wobbling in the dim morning light. I heard her start to pee and then she farted wet and flappily - hollow sounding because of the toilet bowl. She flushed and then blundered back in towards the bed - her big breasts swinging pendulously as she leaned over Robert.
"Scoot over," My wife said - nudging Robert, "Move. Your. Ass."
Robert grumbled in complaint, but rolled towards the middle of the bed, shifting his bulk closer towards me. He put his head on my pillow and breathed into my ear - his prick pressing against my thigh. Beneath the covers I put my hand on his naked hip to pull him closer. He threw his knee over my leg and hugged my torso.
Daisy got into bed - settling herself down, getting comfortable. She pressed her back against Robert's and faced the bathroom.
"We need a bigger bed," I said.
Daisy and Robert said, "No shit..." at the same time. Then we all three laughed.
Monday is trash day. The trash man comes early, often before dawn. He is noisy and aggressive as he empties the bins. The trash man makes no effort to soften his business, so I usually go on and get up.
My wife, Daisy, and I have had a long and contentious relationship with the trash man. It's been the same guy for as long as we've lived here. He is a grump and the more we strived to get into his good graces, the more he seemed to dislike us. It's been thoroughly disheartening because we think we're pretty likable.
Here in California, the whole waste management is a big deal - sorting trash from recycling and compostables, etc. It's an involved process that starts with the consumer. My wife's far more environmentally conscious than I am, so she strives to adhere to the complicated and often subtle standards of what goes in which bin, etc. And so she has become far more frustrated than I when the trash man decides, for some reason, to NOT empty one of our bins on some random Monday.
One summer years ago we went THREE weeks without the trash man emptying our recycling bin. He took the trash and the compost, but for some reason he refused to take our recyclables. My wife was irate. She called the waste management folks after he'd gone off and left us with a full bin the first time and been told there was something in the bin which wasn't recyclable. So Daisy went out there and sorted through it all - item by item. She found something way down at the bottom which, sure enough, shouldn't have been in there... but how the trash man knew that that one item was in there WAY at the bottom of the bin is beyond me.
But he refused to empty our recycling bin TWICE MORE after the first time and after my wife had sorted through it. So my wife was legit furious. She went on crusade. She made phone calls, filed complaints, wrote nasty emails. It was tense around our house for that month and not only because the recyclables were piling up in our garage and starting to stink.
On the third Monday of that summer month several years ago, my wife was up well before dawn and watching for the trash man. When he climbed down outta his truck and opened the lid of our recycling bin to evidently scrutinize the contents, my wife charged outta the front door like she'd been fired from a cannon. She rolled-up on him and unloaded a pent-up, invective-filled tirade that had me wincing from my safe vantage point on the front porch.
The trash man was dumbstruck. Overawed. He actually flinched and took several steps backwards and put his hands-up placatingly.
Funny thing was that my wife was still wearing what she'd worn to bed... which was a threadbare tank top and nude-colored underwear. She was barefoot and without a bra, her hair still mussed from sleep and wadded up in a tangled bun piled lopsidedly on her head. As she ranted and raved, her sagging 40year old breasts, unsupported by a bra, wobbled and swung pendulously - the nipples stiff and hard in the early morning chill. And with the nude-colored underwear and how the hem of the tank top barely covered her butt she looked as though she were naked from the waist down.
I'm not sure what the trash man thought. Here's this furious, half-naked middle-aged woman screaming at him, etc... but he scurried up into the cab of his garbage truck and emptied our recycling bin while my wife stood there in the drive, hands on her hips, glaring at him.
We've had less trouble with the trash man since. He's now oddly solicitous.
Years ago. Summertime. The weekend. My wife, Daisy, and I decided, last minute, to go see a movie matinee – one of those big blockbuster superhero movies at the megaplex.
We were running late. The parking lot at the theater was packed. I had to park way at the far end of the lot which Daisy wasn’t happy about, but that’s where all the open spaces were.
We were hustling towards the theater entrance, or I was... Daisy was sorta ambling. She was wearing one of those ankle-long maxi dresses, flip-flops, and sunglasses. She was stoned and had said she wanted popcorn, Twizzlers and a Diet Coke.
So I was thinking about the line at concessions and getting impatient. “Come on,” I urged. “We’re gonna miss the beginning.”
Daisy huffed in annoyance but she did pick up her pace a bit.
We were halfway there when Daisy abruptly veered right, stepping between two parked cars. She hauled the hem of her dress up to her waist and squatted. She wasn’t wearing underwear.
Thinking she was about to take a piss I said, “What the fuck? You couldn’t wait until we were inside?”
But Daisy reached under herself and pulled a butt plug from her asshole – a big metal one.
I’d had no idea she’d been walking around with a butt plug in her asshole.
She stood up, let her skirts fall back around her ankles and dropped the plug into her big purse. She hustled past me towards the entrance, leaving me behind, sorta stunned.
She said, “Come on! Don’t just stand there... we’re gonna miss the beginning.”
Mark's marriage fell apart shortly after my wife, Daisy, and I bought our first house. Mark was over at our house a lot as his divorce was panning-out. He practically lived with us for the better part of a year.
Mark's wife had been a real cunt. Daisy and I had never liked her. Not surprisingly their divorce got ugly quickly and real expensive. So Daisy and I had a good bit of sympathy for Mark.
One Friday night in the Fall we were all sitting in the hot tub. Mark had had a rough week. His wife's lawyer had really been sticking it to him and he was in a funk, understandably. We were drinking too much and smoking dope, and we were all naked - but it didn't seem to be cheering Mark up much.
He was telling us these "we never" stories about his wife and their marriage... "We never did this... We never did that... She wouldn't do this... She wouldn't do that..." and it was some depressing shit. I couldn't imagine being with a woman who refused to suck dick. Like... not even for a special occasion! A birthday, an anniversary or holiday or something.
"She was especially uptight about her ass!" Mark said, "Her asshole was totally OFF LIMITS!"
So Daisy asked him, "You never had anal sex?"
"No," Mark said, gloomily.
"But you want to?" Daisy said.
"Sure!" Mark said, "But it's not like chicks are lining-up for me these days. I can't get a DATE, let alone find a girl who'll let me fuck her in the ass."
By this point in Mark's maudlin monologue my wife was pretty outraged. She shot me this look and I understood Mark's night was about to improve dramatically. My heart started beating harder and I felt my peter start to tingle.
After a while we got out of the hot tub and went inside. My wife followed Mark into the family room. I went into the kitchen and got a beer from the fridge, but I lingered there - watching.
Mark, his towel wrapped around his waist, dropped heavily onto our sofa. Daisy stood stark naked in front of him and unselfconsciously dried her hair.
My wife is a lot of woman. She's from the Midwest. Corn country. Ancestors from Scandinavia or Denmark, one of those places in the North West of Europe where Vikings came from. She's big, leaning towards fat, but in a powerful way - not an obese way. She's six feet tall and nearly two hundred pounds. She looks like a farmer's wife who could throw hay bales up to the loft, or an athlete who could throw the shot put or hammer, or how I imagine a shield-maiden would have looked. She's got big tits, a broad ass and thick thighs... and when she's standing stark naked in front of you it's a lot to take in.
And Mark was openly staring at her.
Daisy said, "Would you like to have sex, Mark?"
"W-what?" Mark said - suddenly astonished.
"Would you like to have sex with me?" Daisy said - tossing her towel aside and putting her hands on her hips, "Anal sex. I'm asking you."
Mark looked back at me. His face was so red it was almost purple, "Is she serious?"
I smiled, took a sip of my beer, and said, "Sounds like it to me."
Mark turned back to Daisy, "Sex?"
"Anal sex," Daisy said, "Your dick in my ass."
Mark got flustered. He started blathering nonsense, looking around furtively, half-hearted protests and comments about our friendship, the impropriety, etc. But he wasn't getting-up and walking-out. He wasn't turning away. He wasn't saying, 'No.'
Daisy just looked at him for a long moment. Then she moved forward, bent over, took his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth. It shut him up. Then they really began to kiss - tongues and lips working hungrily. Mark reached-out and took hold of Daisy's dangling tit, pulling gently on her stiffening nipple.
I moved from the kitchen to the dining room where I was closer and could see better. I began to pull on my hardening peter.
Daisy stopped kissing Mark and said, "You want to fuck me in the ass, Mark?"
I was waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store, when the guy right behind me said, "Hello."
I said, "Hello."
"How's it going?" He asked.
"Pretty good," I said, "You?"
"Good, man... it's good."
I smiled, nodded and turned forward.
"How's your wife?"
I turned back and looked at him a little more carefully, "She's... uh... good," I said - he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. I was racking my brain: What was his name? How did I know him? Where had I met him?
He smiled conspiratorially, "You don't remember me, do you?"
"No... I apologize," I said, "Please... remind me of your name."
He told me his name and the party where we had met. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I suddenly felt short of breath, my ears felt red hot and I could hear the blood roaring through my head. I remembered... not him, but the party where we had met. The orgy. The guys lining-up to fuck my wife, Daisy, while she went down on the hostess. Sucking my friend's dick while his wife rubbed her clit watching me.
"Jesus..." I gasped.
He smiled, "It's all good, man. That was a Helluva party."
"Yes," I said, "Yes, it was..."
"You tell Daisy I said, 'Hi' Okay?"
It was then I got distracted. The cashier had finished with the person in front of me. The line advanced. It was my turn. I began to unload my basket.
I entered the bedroom carrying two cups of coffee. I was moving carefully so as not to spill. It was a lovely Sunday morning in Fall and I'd slept well.
Daisy, my wife, was up - which surprised me. She was naked, moving busily about the bed stripping the mattress of its sheets.
"You're up early," I said.
She looked at me, "Robert's wife texted."
"Oh, shit..." I said.
It was then that Robert, our friend and my wife's long-time lover, emerged from the bathroom. He was also naked. He was looking at his phone, but didn't seem particularly stressed, so I felt relieved.
Robert said, "She's on her way home. Left early. Her mother pissed her off... again. Sour cunt can't keep from antagonizing her."
"How long will it take her to get home?" Daisy asked.
Robert said, "Three hours - give or take."
"So you got time," Daisy said.
"A bit..."
"Coffee..." I said - holding one of the mugs out to him.
Robert smiled, moved over to me and took the mug from my hand, "Dude! Thanks."
I set Daisy's mug down on the dresser top, moved over and kissed her, "Good morning," I said - patting her naked butt.
Daisy said, "I smell bacon. You making breakfast?"
"I am..." I turned to Robert, "You got time to eat before you leave?"
Robert glanced at his phone - grimaced, "I'm gonna have to eat it and beat it."
"Fair enough..." I said - turning to Daisy.
"We were gonna take a shower," My wife said, "You finish making breakfast?"
My wife, Daisy, and I were walking down Castro Street in San Francisco. There was a restaurant my wife wanted to check-out. It was a bright and sunny Fall day. I paused momentarily to take-in the impressive window display of one store - fancy men's underwear erupting from the end of a really-really large dildo. I was about to point it out to my wife, when an effeminate little man approached her...
"Daisy!?!" He exclaimed in apparent disbelief.
My wife yelled-out, "BILLY!" And embraced him.
There was a gushing tumble of words from both - "OMG! How long has it been? Really!?! That long? You look great! Where are you living now? What are you doing here? Gosh, can you believe it's been that long?" Etc-etc-etc.
Billy was a little guy - five foot eight, and surely not more than a buck and a half. He was fit as fuck too, and because he was checking me out I sucked in my gut. He was wearing checkerboard Van's slip-ons, cutoff denim shorts and a t-shirt and ballcap.
Eventually, I was introduced. He surprised me with a vice-like handshake - I'd expected a limp-wristed grip.
Phone numbers and emails were exchanged. Social media aliases revealed. Promises were made to get together soon... and we each went our separate ways.
After a block I asked, "How do you know Billy?"
"We used to fuck," Daisy said, "Long time ago."
"Really?" I said - surprised, "He doesn't seem like your type."
My wife looked at me, "Why? Because he's gay?"
"No," I said - carefully, "Because he's so..."
"What?"
"Slight," I said, "He's a little dude, sweetheart."
"Yeah, well..." She hesitated, "I'm not surprised he turned-out to be gay."
"Why?"
"Because he wouldn't go down on me and he loved getting pegged," Daisy said.
“Just... wait a sec,” He said - breathing shakily, his hands on her thighs, “Don’t move... please.”
“You gonna cum?” My wife asked.
He closed his eyes and nodded, exhaling slowly.
“Oh goodness,” My wife said, “Um... it’s okay if you do... I don’t mind.”
He looked at her, “I don’t want to... yet.”
My wife sat on him calmly - her knees in his armpits. She shushed him and patted his chest, “Just... try to relax.”
He breathed slowly - in through his nose and out through his mouth.
My wife looked down at him, “It’s really your first time?”
“Yeah,” He said, “Never made it this far. My wife... my ex-wife couldn’t... or wouldn’t...”
My wife smiled sympathetically - understanding.
“You okay?” He asked.
“I’m fine,” She said, “We’ll just... sit here for a bit. Talk.”
“T-talk?” He said, “About what?”
She shrugged, “Your dick in my ass?”
“Don’t!” He gasped, “Ah fuck,” He convulsed, “I’m cumming.”
My wife smirked and leaned back, she squeezed her butt-cheeks hard and began to rotate her hips in slow, tight, rhythmic circles - watching him writhe beneath her.
“Jee-ZUS!” He cried. He closed his eyes, put his head back on the pillow and groaned, gripping her thighs - thrusting upwards hard, repeatedly, “Ah-ah-AH! Fuh-king... Jesus!” He gasped.
My wife winced then, and shifted slightly - put one hand on his knee, the other she used to rub her clitoris, exhaling slowly through pursed lips.
He grunted and shook, looking at her - his eyes wide, “FUCK! YOU! Ah... my... GOD!”
My wife squeezed her eyes tight and she sighed - jutteringly, as she trembled with a gentle orgasm.
He stopped squirming after a bit and lay there looking at her, wide-eyed and panting.
When she stopped trembling Daisy opened her eyes and looked down at him, “You okay?”
I was helping my wife strip the bed - it was time to change the sheets... and as I tugged the fitted sheet off the mattress a purple lacy thong popped outta the crack between the mattress and the footboard.
I picked it up and looked at it. There was a bit white shmutz in the crotch. I held it up with two hands. They were tiny - way too small to be my wife's. I can't remember the last time my wife wore a thong, but it was at least two decades ago.
"Whose are these?" I said.
My wife turned, said, "Oh!" Then she laughed, "Well... they're not mine."
I tossed them at her, "Whose are they then?"
Daisy said, "They're either Nicki's or Phoebi's." She sniffed the thong, "They're Phoebi's, I think."
"You have a sleepover while I was away?" I asked.
My wife shrugged coyly, "Girl's entitled to her secrets."
My wife, Daisy, and I were downstairs in our rec room with our houseguest, Robert. We were all naked and lounging on our plush L-shaped sofa sectional. I was wrestling with our WiFi - trying to sync the television to the internet so we could stream vids from PornHub.
“Whatever happened to those Stripper Heels I bought you?” Robert asked.
My wife said, “They’re upstairs - back of my closet. Why?”
“You don’t wear them ever?”
“Kinda impractical, sweetheart.”
Robert made a disappointed noise.
“What? You don’t like my dirty Birks?” My wife lifted her leg to wiggle her Birkenstock’d foot. Her sandals are indeed filthy and beat to Hell - kinda gross, honestly.
Robert winced, “It’d just be a nice change of pace to see you in heels, you know?”
Daisy sighed and turned to me, “Whoopsie... would you go upstairs and fish my Stripper Heels outta the back of my closet?”
I huffed impatiently, “He asked you. You go get them.”
Daisy stood-up, “Fine. Then YOU can stay down here and start blowing Robert.”
It was early in the morning - still dark. "Robert" and I were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. He looked rough... tired, bleary-eyed, his hair a mess. His shirt was wrinkled and his collar was twisted. He had to get back though, so I'd gotten-up to make him coffee and see him off.
Robert is my wife's lover. They've been fucking on and off for about thirty years - since college. He'd come down to hang-out for the night while his wife was away visiting her mother with their kid, but Robert needed to get home before his wife did.
"Sleep?" I asked.
Robert sipped his coffee - said, "Some... not enough."
"She snores," I said.
Robert said, "Boy, she sure does."
"It's not usually so bad," I said, "Almost always when she drinks."
"Those were good margaritas though," Robert said - he leaned back and stretched his arms wide.
"How long will it take you to get back?" I asked.
"Couple hours," He said, relaxing - resting his elbows on the table, "Less probably - this early in the morning."
"You'll text?"
Robert nodded, "I'll let you all know when I'm back."
It was then that my wife, Daisy, came down. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes puffy, face marked by a fold in the pillowcase. All she was wearing was my undershirt - worn inside-out. Her pubic hair was visible beneath the hem of her shirt and her big breasts jiggled pendulously as she stumbled into the kitchen. Her thighs and ass wobbling appealingly. Her nipples stood hard beneath the thin fabric of her t-shirt. She was barefoot.
"Good morning," I said.
She smiled in my direction and moved over to the coffee maker. Robert and I watched as she reached into the cupboard to retrieve a mug - it lifted the hem of her t-shirt even more to expose her naked butt... the cellulite visible in the dim morning light.
She poured herself coffee, then moved over to the fridge to retrieve cream. When her coffee was the color she liked she joined us at the kitchen table. She sat down and, holding the mug in both hands, took a careful sip.
Robert said, "Morning."
She smiled at him, but didn't say anything.
After several minutes of silence and when my wife had had enough coffee to appear coherent I said, "He's gonna leave soon."
Daisy set her mug down, "You'll text when you're back."
Robert nodded, "I will. Promise."
Daisy said, "You take a shower?"
Robert shook his head, "I will when I get home."
Daisy put her hand on Robert's forearm and looked at him, "Take a shower. When you get home, wash your clothes... then take another shower."
Robert looked at her skeptically.
Daisy said, "She'll smell us on you."
Robert looked at me, "Seriously?"
"You want to risk your wife finding out?" I asked, "Better do as she says."
Robert stood-up and leaned over to give my wife a big kiss on the mouth. They made-out noisily for a long moment, Robert reaching down to take hold of Daisy's breast - fondling its mass, pulling on the nipple gently. He pulled away and looked down at her - still holding her breast, "You're always looking out for me... thanks."
Daisy smiled bashfully, "Go on... go shower."
Robert went upstairs. After a moment we heard the water going.
I looked at my wife.
Daisy drank her coffee and looked back at me.
"You sleep?"
"Not much," She said, "Bed was crowded."
I stood-up. Picking-up Robert's empty coffee mug and taking it over to the sink, I said, "We should get a bigger bed," I said.
"You keep saying that," Daisy said, "But we haven't yet."
"You were snoring into Robert's ear most of the night."
"I'm okay," I said - stuffing my jealous feelings about Robert, "You're sore?"
"You two weren't very gentle," Daisy said, "My ass hurts and my cervix feels bruised."
"You didn't say anything," I said, "Were we too rough?"
Daisy sighed and stretched, putting her knuckles against the sides of her neck and leaning way back, arching her back hard, "Not rough, just... relentless."
My wife was standing in the middle of the room. She was naked. She looked-up from her phone as I came in.
“I’ve been texting you,” She said.
I pulled-out my phone and looked at it. I hadn’t received anything. I held it up to show her I’d not received anything.
She huffed impatiently.
“This room is partially underground,” I said, “May not have gone through.”
She rolled her eyes and moved over and kissed me perfunctorily.
I looked around. The room stank of sex - jizz and cunt, sweat and lube. Faint odors of incense and dope. Clothes were scattered about in wadded piles. The sofa cushions were all messed-up, some tossed on the floor. The coffee table had been pushed way over to the side and there was a three foot bong on it next to a large thing of lube and an open box of condoms.
“You said pick you up at ten. It’s ten til… I’m early.”
“Well… I’m ready to go,” Daisy said.
“Did you have fun?” I asked.
She shrugged, “It was a lotta butt stuff.”
“You okay?” I asked, "I warned you last time."
“I'm okay," Daisy said dismissively, "I just need to fart or I feel like I'm gonna explode,” She said - making a face and putting her hand on her abdomen above her pubic hair, “I’m full of air.”
“And jizz,” I said.
“Not so much... but there was a lotta lube,” She said, “And I can’t find my underwear,” She said, looking at the tangle of clothes on the floor.
“You take them off in here?” I asked.
“I don’t remember,” She said.
"Maybe somebody took them," I said.
She looked at me, "Why would somebody take my underwear?"
I shrugged, "Souvenir."
"Souvenir? What the fuck... is this high school?"
I laughed.
"It's not like they're fancy or anything," Daisy said, stepping back and looking around, "They're black cotton panties from The Gap."
I looked around indifferently. I noticed that most of the clothes were men's - boxers and briefs, shorts and jeans.
"Was it just you?" I asked.
"Um... mostly. Yeah." She said, stooping to pick-up her tank top. She farted wetly and stood-up with a startled look on her face, “I gotta go to the bathroom,” And she walked-out.
A moment later a young guy with a man bun came in. He was thin and wiry, wearing a sarong.
“Oh… uh… hey,” He said, looking at me.
“Hello,” I said.
“She leave?” He asked.
“Who?”
“The old gal that was in here,” He said.
“Daisy? She went to the bathroom.”
“She coming back?”
“Yes, she’s coming back.”
“Oh good,” He said, untying the sarong and tossing it over a chair, “I haven’t had a chance to fuck her yet.”
We looked at each other. His gaze traveled from my face down to my feet and back - taking note of my t-shirt and jeans and flip-flops.
He smirked and took hold of his limp prick and began to wank it, “You just get here?”
“Few minutes ago. Yeah.”
“Well... you’re late to the party, man.” He spat into the palm of his hand and continued to wank his prick, “You don’t mind I go first? I’ve been waiting.”
I said, “Uh…”
That’s when Daisy returned, “Oh!” She said, “Hello.”
She was wearing her tank top, but hadn’t found her underwear yet. She looked from man bun to me, then back to man bun.
Man bun, still wanking his prick - but slower now, said, “Hey.”
My wife looked at me.
I said, “He wants to go first... if that’s okay. He’s been waiting for a turn.”
My wife coughed, then wretched - almost barfing. She worked hard to control of herself - stop the reflex. She yurled again and nearly lost it that time - her eyes watering, “Wha...” She blinked several times and then burped-up a wad of goo which she tried to catch in her palm, but she wasn’t fast enough. The wad dropped on the floor with a thick ‘smack.’ Then she wiped her chin with the back of her wrist, “What the fuck?” She said - looking down at the floor and then at me.
“What?” The guy said, breathing hard.
“God damn!” My wife wiped her lower lip and sat up straight, clearing her throat, blinking the tears from her eyes.
“What?” He said again.
My wife blinked and looked from him to me, put her hand on her chest, “I can’t remember the last time I swallowed a load that big.”
The guy and I chuckled.
“High school maybe,” She looked at him, “You been saving-up? Good Lord...”
