My eyes weren’t the only ones that trailed after Amanda as she disappeared.
“Your girl is HOT!” I turned to the sound of the voice, a well-dress man approximately my age who was smiling lewdly.
I felt proud and chuckled. “Thanks. She’s my wife. And I appreciate the compliment.”
He appeared on the verge of saying more, but quickly closed his mouth as a woman who I surmised to be his significant other approached. His expression changed from lecherous to guilty to pretend nonchalance within the blink of an eye. The woman strode past him, and he fell in step with her and left without another comment or look back.
Amanda returned a few minutes later and immediately noticed my amusement.
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
“Some dude was commenting on how hot you look.”
“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow. “Was he cute?”
I couldn’t tell if her piqued interest was genuine, or feigned to instigate me. I quickly decided it was the latter, and decided to give my wife some of her own medicine.
“Yea, he was your type, for sure. Young and good-looking. Oh, and there was another guy who commented on your dress. In fact, he was so turned on by you that he asked if he could have your panties.”
“What!”
I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I was tempted to stretch it by the waistband and hold Amanda’s sexy underwear up for all to see, but instead clutched it against my chest.
Amanda’s jaw almost hit the floor. “Did someone REALLY ask you that?”
I tried to keep a straight face, but began chortling.
She exclaimed, “You’re a jerk!” and punched me in the shoulder with moderate force.
Several patrons glanced curiously at us.
“I WAS serious about the first guy, though. Maybe we should leave your panties on the table as a tip for our waiter!”
*************************************************************************************
We soon found ourselves half walking, half stumbling hand-in-hand back to the hotel. After a splitting a bottle of wine, Amanda was somewhat clumsy in her high heels, but I held onto her tightly.
I would never let her fall.
It took us longer to return to the hotel than it did to make it to the restaurant, and after entering the lobby we made a beeline for the elevator. The doors opened and we stepped inside. Amanda was about to press the button for the 25th floor, but I stopped her.
“Wait. There’s something I want to show you first.”
I withdrew a special keycard from my breast pocket, which not all hotel guests were privy to, and slid it into a slot in the wall panel. A faint “ping” emitted, and I punched the button for the top floor.
Amanda asked, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
The elevator quickly ascended to the 40th. When the doors opened again, we stepped outside.
We found ourselves alone on the open rooftop. The air was cool, crisp, and clear, and the stars twinkled brightly above us. As we approached the edge which was encircled by a tall railing, we gazed at the view, which included the ocean on one end, mountains in the far distance already shrouded in darkness, and the romantic skyline of Center City nestled in between. It was well beyond dusk, and the heart of the city was lit up by enormous skyscrapers that reached high to the heavens, as well as by the vehicles that crawled through the city streets like ants.
Amanda smiled in dreamy appreciation as she absorbed the panorama. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. Then she turned towards me. “Thank you for planning this.”
A strong wind blew. Amanda had undone her ponytail on our way back to the hotel, and now her silky hair billowed across her face.
I didn’t notice the ocean or the city lights or the mountains, all of which were worthy enough to be pictured on a postcard or in a magazine.
All I noticed was my wife.
I stared at her in complete and utter worship, and her eyes mirrored my emotions.
“Let’s go clean up,” Amanda whispered. That had always been her code for something much, much more fun.
We returned to our hotel suite.
*************************************************************************************
Amanda and I were already on each other before we shut the door. We had mastered the art of undressing each other while making out. I peeled the minidress from her body, appreciating, again, just how tightly it clung to her body. Once we finished stripping each other out of our clothes, she followed me into the bathroom and into the shower.
I pulled Amanda close as the warm water cascaded on us. There weren’t many things in life that made me happier than being wet and naked with my wife.
We took turns soaping each other down. I poured a copious amount of shampoo into my hand and lathered it into Amanda’s hair while I stood behind her. As my fingertips gently worked her scalp, my male anatomy became fully erect. I pressed it against her and slowly rotated my hips side to side, stimulating my erection as it slid back and forth on the small of her slick back.
I soon finished washing Amanda’s hair, and I eagerly proceeded to her body. Remaining behind her, I took a bar of soap and began rubbing it all over the front of her toned form. I started at her neck and shoulders, then spent an exorbitant amount of time soaping her breasts. They felt firm and slippery, causing my hard-on to ache even more.
I glided the soap over her tummy, the bar bumping on the ridges of her chiseled abdominal muscles.
I worked my hands even lower, rubbing the soap between her legs, cause my wife to murmur and shift on her toes.
Amanda’s backside was next, and it wasn’t long before my soapy hands were all over her ass. I couldn’t help myself and bent slightly at the knees, laying the underside of my shaft along her vertical crease. My arms encircled her body as I reached for her tits and fondled them again.
As if on cue, Amanda began to slowly undulate her bottom. I moaned and squeezed her chest hard as she gave me a sensational assjob. Normally, I would’ve gladly ejaculated all over her butt, but the timing didn’t seem right. I spoke softly in her ear, “Not yet.”
Amanda turned around and smiled, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the lips. She coolly took the bar of soap from my hand. “Fine. My turn, then.”
She began soaping my cock.
Amanda immediately ran one slippery hand up and down the full length of my erection while she cupped my scrotum and massaged it in a slow, circular motion with the other.
Amanda had gone from giving me an assjob to a handjob, both equally as glorious.
“Can you guess what comes next?” she asked me wickedly, knowing full well what I craved.
Assjob. Handjob.
Blowjob.
“Fuck, yes.”
She released her grip on me. “Let’s head to the bedroom.”
“Why not do it here? We can be as messy as we wanna be!”
“Because I have something in mind, too.” Amanda grinned slyly as she turned the tables on me once more.
I shut off the water and retrieved 2 towels. We hurriedly dried each other then rushed out of bathroom. I went directly to the bed, but Amanda veered to the wall switch to turn off the lights. The suite was suddenly engulfed in complete darkness, save for some light trickling in from the 3 huge windows, setting the mood perfectly.
I knew Amanda intended to blow me and loved her for it, but a better idea popped into my head; her happiness always came before mine.
“Put the dress back on,” I commanded.
Amanda protested, “But I want to make you happy!”
“You’ll make me happy if you put back on the dress.” I paused, then quickly added, “And the high heels, too. Definitely need the high heels!”
My wife regarded me with a bemused expression, but consented. She pulled the soft, stretchy material over her body once more. Her movements were slow and sensual, and I stood rooted in place, captivated by her sexy performance. After slipping into her heels, Amanda dutifully approached me.
I looked her up and down. In her eagerness, she had donned minidress so haphazardly that her breasts were practically spilling out, but that didn’t matter. I placed my hands on her hips then grabbed at the fabric—which was actually more difficult than I was anticipating since it hugged her skin so closely— and peeled it upward until everything below my wife’s waist was exposed.
We had just showered, but the powerful aroma of her sex wafted to my nostrils. I didn’t need to finger her cunt to know that Amanda was already wet.
I immediately dropped to my knees.
“Wait, it’s my turn to—“
I buried my face into her pussy.
She groaned a loud “Oh!” and bowed her legs, gaping her hole to allow me greater access. Her slit rubbed against my mouth and tongue as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. I pressed my face forward, alternating between penetrating her with my tongue and licking her smoothly shaven clit. I burrowed so hard that I momentarily threw Amanda off balance. To keep her from stumbling, I cupped her ass with my palms, giving both buttcheeks an affectionate squeeze.
At this point, I was sucking and slurping loudly As my wife gyrated her crotch on my face, I drilled the middle 3 fingers of my right hand into her pussy all the way to the knuckles… rotating my wrist to roll inside of her… crooking my fingers to scrape along her inner walls… and probing deeply. She whimpered as I easily found her g-spot, and begged for more
Amanda’s pussy was a wet mess. The essence of her sex initially tasted thin and salty, but was now taking on a much thicker texture and metallic taste as it always did when she was fully aroused.
Her juice tasted like nectar from above.
I lapped between her legs for a long while, content to feed, and make her moan and squirm against my face. After a while, I drove my fingers in my wife’s hole again, and they slid in so easily that I added my pinky. I watched in fascination her vagina engulfed four fifths of my hand, and arrived at the obscene conclusion that I could easily fist Amanda’s cunt right now if she’d allow me to.
Amanda suddenly tore herself away from me, much to my dismay. My lips and chin were glazed as she stumbled back toward the windows, and I was still extremely hungry.
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