Don't Ask, Don't Tell Ch. 01

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Steve's wife tells her friends how good a fuck he is.
7.4k words
4.21
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/26/2022
Created 06/09/2008
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I can tell there will be trouble when it first starts. Here is my second wife, huddled in the den with her older girlfriends on a rainy Friday night, sipping wine and chatting. And as with most chats, it turns to one thing: sex, or rather the lack of it thereof.

Now, this is my wife Cheryl's first marriage, and there are some things she doesn't know that I should've already hipped her to. There are things you talk about with your girlfriends and things you don't.

But before I get too far, let me describe my winsome wife. Cheryl, 35, is 5'4", four inches shorter than me. She has smooth, caramel skin than makes me want to taste every inch of her often. Her C-cup melons, with their thick, peg-like chocolate nipples, get the lion's share of attention from my soft lips, especially since she loves to thrust them in my face when she's riding me. She's got a bit of a tummy, but her sweet, wide, 38" hips with accompanying juicy thighs more than makes up for it. The way her big ass quivers when I fuck her from behind has me gritting my teeth and trying to do trigonometry in my head, all in an attempt to hold off cumming until her frothy pussy squeezes my cock rhythmically in orgasm. But Cheryl's most potent weapons are her almond-shaped, hazel eyes that hypnotize me at any given moment, and her plush, pink lips. Hell, kissing my wife as we do for hours on end is almost better than sex. Almost.

Her friend, Marie, 38, is almost a pixie. With her red hair, green eyes, and 5-foot-even stature, she can't be more than 98 pounds soaking wet. Her chest is pretty much non-existent, but her nipples seem to be always hard and poking through anything she wears. Her cute, heart-shaped ass is the most prominent thing on her body—not that I notice these things, mind you.

Andi, her girlfriend from down the street, is the tallest, standing 5'11". She has long, lean legs, showing some muscle definition, very slender hips, and a flat tummy. You'd almost think she was a boy, except for the fat, D-cup tits thrusting high and proud on her chest. At 40 years of age, you'd think they'd have a hint of sag to them, but no. It leads me to question if they're really hers or not, but damn, they fucking look good anyway. With her sandy-blond, shoulder-length hair, and her dazzling blue eyes, she's the quintessential MILF of the group.

Cheryl's third friend, Trixie, 39, is the bona fide BBW. She's 5'5" and must weigh near the 200's. But strangely enough, she's a sexy package, sporting a pair of huge, mahogany DD's? F's? (I'd love to take a peek at that bra size.) Her waist is relatively small before flaring out to an outlandishly-wide ass. Trixie looks like an exaggerated hourglass, but she carries and dresses it well. And she knows how to flaunt it, using her big, brown eyes, cute button nose, and winning smile to flirt heavily. I don't know how her husband, Theo, puts up with it.

So anyway, it's a Friday night, right, raining cats and dogs outside in mid-April, and I'm planted in front of our big-screen plasma TV in the living room watching some action flick on our fiberoptic connection. And the women are laughing, drinking, and talking. Then their voices get low. I know they're chatting about something they don't want me to hear. Suddenly, Andi says in that brassy voice of hers, "I don't see what's the big deal about sex, anyway."

There is a moment in which there is absolute silence. That, right then, is when I should've jumped up, grabbed Cheryl, pulled her into the kitchen out of earshot, and told her the Golden Rule. But hey, a guy hears an attractive woman (not that I notice these things, anyway) utter that magic word—SEX—and strange things happen. I got rooted to my plush Barcalounger. My dark dong surged to half-hardness in my relaxed-fit jeans. I swallowed a lump in my throat as my thumb gently pressed the down-volume button on my ever-present remote.

I guess they were waiting to see if I responded in some way. Once satisfied that I was too wrapped up in my movie to have given them another thought, they continued.

"Well, it's true," Andi says, this time a little quieter. "Sex is no big deal to me. Al comes to bed, slobbers all over my boobs for a few minutes, then sticks it in. It's just starting to feel good when he pops, rolls over and goes to sleep."

Al's my golfing buddy. Big, strapping guy, over six feet, was a defensive lineman in college. He's balding now and has a paunch, but still has a lot of that college muscle left over underneath. He always gives me the impression he'd rather watch ESPN SportsCenter than get it on hot and heavy under the sheets. Still, I hate hearing about it this way. My dick starts to soften a little.

Marie is the shy type, so I'm surprised when she pipes up. "Is he, you know, big down there?"

Andi chuckles. "He's okay, I guess," she replies. "I still like the feel of it, if only he'd go a little longer." She sighs.

"I wish Johnny had one his size, then," Marie says. "Johnny's is huge."

Another pause. "HOW huge?" Trixie asks. I can almost hear the calculating in her head.

"I measured him once when we first started...um...you know...he's, like, 9 ½ inches," Marie says. "And it hurts so much when he shoves it in. When he takes his time and makes sure I'm good and we—umm, ready, it can be really good. But most of the time he just drives it home, and I feel like he's ripping me apart. Maybe I could get used to it if we did it more often, but..."

I winced involuntarily, thinking about a wee frame like Marie's taking on a monster prick like Johnny's. Johnny's a dark-haired, rail-thin car mechanic with his own garage over on Maple Street. Sometimes I hang out with him while he's working on my ride. He brags about having a big one all the time, and I guess he's right. But lots of big-dicked men think that's all they need to please a woman, and use it like a battering ram instead. They forget about using their fingers, lips, tongue and teeth to get a woman primed before working their big muscles inside.

"Well, at least y'all men can get it up," says Trixie with a huff. "Theo talks a big game, but when it's showtime, he's limp as a noodle."

"There's a little blue pill that can fix that right up, you know," replies Andi.

"I know that, you know that, errybody and their fuckin' MOTHER knows that," Trixie answers, agitated. "But Theo don't want no doctor tellin' him he's got that erectile dysfunction crap. Won't even think of goin'." She takes a long sip of wine, draining the glass. "But I bet he can get it up fo' his fuckin' big ass secretary, though. Fuckin' office slut..."

I didn't know much about Theo. We're cordial acquaintances at best. He's an investment banker downtown, and we ride the same commuter train. His girth matches Trixie's, although he's taller by a few inches, and it's conceivable that his weight, plus his high-stress job, makes it tough for him to rise to the occasion.

It's quiet for a minute and I still have time to retrieve my naïve wife. I start to rise to my feet, when her voice sounds out.

"Well, I love sex," Cheryl begins, "and Steve does me just right. He's not too big, not too small, and he takes his time getting me nice and dripping wet before he mounts me. And when he's in there, OOooohhh muh GOD! He moves his hips like he's trying to churn butter inside me. And I guess he does, because I cum so hard that I see stars. He's always ready to go, too, like a little Energizer Bunny. But I make sure he gets enough."

I'm sure Marie is blushing from head to toe, now. Andi coughs, and Trixie says, "Dammnnnn!"

The spell keeping my feet stuck to the hardwood flooring finally breaks. I take the few steps necessary to reach the den. The wine bottles are empty, and the women are all glassy-eyed. Cheryl's words really got to them. Time to send them home.

"Cheryl, don't you have an appointment at eight tomorrow morning?" I say. "Maybe we should get to bed now."

Trixie and Andi laugh loudly. Marie grows more red-faced. "Yeah, you heard yo' man, Cher," says Trixie. "It's time fo' bed right NOW, baby!"

It's my turn to blush as they gather up their purses and keys and make it out the front door to their cars. We wave as they pull off. Then I feel a hand cupping my left asscheek through my jeans.

"You heard Trixie," whispers Cheryl, nibbling on my earlobe. "It's time for bed, baby." She turns and switches her jiggling hips up the stairs. Well, shit, I'm hot as a firecracker myself after hearing all that.

Let me tell you a little about myself, now. I'm no Denzel, or even a Samuel L. I'm a nice-looking guy, but rarely do I get a woman doing a double-take when I'm walking in public. My build was lean and muscular when I was in the Army some twenty years ago, but now I have a spare tire around my middle. My skin tone is smooth chocolate; my eyes are light brown, and my lips are very soft. Since I started going bald eight years ago, I've kept my head shaved. I'm the kind of man who has to rely on his intelligence, wit, and charm to get a woman interested. And once she's in bed with me, I make sure she stays interested, because then I can set loose my prick on her. It's an unusual one: it's uncircumcised, the length is just shy of the traditional "AOL 8", but the shaft is very thick and it's capped with a fat, mushroom shaped head. All of my past partners say it's the head that forces them wide open, rubs against their G-spots, and allows my cock to nudge up against their cervixes, filling them to the brim. But I also use my fingers and tongue to good advantage. That's how I hooked Cheryl after our initial courtship online eight years ago.

When I reach the bedroom, Cheryl's just shimmying out of her lace panties. She saunters over to me, naked, wrapping her arms tenderly around my neck. As her lips draw close, the scent of alcohol is strong. Her kiss begins soft, but builds to an incendiary level. Her body presses up against me, molding to my contours. I like this; I call it her "melty kiss." My thickening dick starts to crowd the crotch of my jeans.

"So," Cheryl says, her eyes hooded, "how much of that did you hear?"

I kiss her left cheek before trailing more down her slender neck to her sensitive collarbone. "Hear what?" I reply huskily. Damn, she feels so good in my arms.

She moans as my lips suckle that special spot, the one that I know raises goose bumps on her shoulders. "You know," she breathes, "what the girls and I were talking about."

My left hand moves from the small of her back and smooths over her right asscheek. I squeeze and pull her tighter against me as my right hand roams up her torso to cup her tit, her chocolate nipple already stiffening in my palm.

"Yeah, I heard it all," I answer, my lips once again covering hers, gently sucking on her sweet bottom lip. "But honey, maybe you shouldn't have told them about our sex life."

She pulls back a little to lift my t-shirt up and off me. Then she leans forward to softly bite my left nipple as her hands begin to unbuckle my belt. "Why not?" she asks. "I thought you'd puff out your chest a little hearing about how good you treat me."

"I'll admit, that was nice," I say as she finishes unsnapping and unzipping my jeans and yanks them down with my underwear. My rock-hard boner bounces up and just about smacks her on the chin in its rush to point skyward. Now in a crouch at face-level to it, Cheryl rubs her face on the underside of my fat chocolate shaft, letting it roll from one cheek, over the ridge of her nose, to the other cheek, getting all of my musky scent on her. Damn, she spoils me with this shit.

"MMmmmMmmm," she moans, taking a moment to pull back the foreskin and deliver a sucking kiss at the spot where the shaft meets my bloated, dark-red head, watching me involuntarily twitch. "Baby, you know I want to just eat you up, get you all down my throat, but I'm SOOOO horny right now, so..." She stands up, takes me by my shoulders and pushes me toward the bed. My jeans are still gathered around my ankles, so I end up stumbling toward the bed, twisting so that I land on my back, my feet still in contact with the floor. Cheryl then swiftly straddles my torso while grasping my throbbing cock and aiming it at her warm, slick slit. Fuck, she's already so wet!

I manage to snap my hips up. My mushroom cap almost parts her outer lips, but she rises up quickly, denying me blissful penetration. "You beast," she says, grinning widely. She catches my wrists and pins them over my head. "This is MY show tonight." And with that, she begins an inexorably-slow corkscrewing of her hips. My cockhead disappears inside her; we both gasp as she continues her journey, taking three minutes to finally seat herself completely on my cock. She rocks back and forth some, making sure I'm sealed to her cervix nice and tight.

I have no complaints. Like she said before, I'm just the right size. Every inch of my dick is covered with hot, frothy pussy, with nothing left out. You can't beat that. But I'm not helpless in this position. I flex my kegels, making my cock jump several times inside her. She coos as she feels the pulses ripple through her clasping sugarwalls.

Then she lifts up until only the very tip of my head is within her. Her thick cream cools around my exposed shaft. Rotating her ass, she dips and rises, letting my tip play around her tight, muscular opening. She sinks on me again, grinding our pelvises together as I hit bottom. I grunt as I'm jammed up against her back wall once more.

"OOohhhhHHH, h-honey, oooOOoHHH, Steve," she moans as she begins to post on me, harder and faster. "I—love—your—FUCKING—DICK!" she says, punctuating each word with a plunge onto my throbbing prick.

"But, uuNNggHH, will you respect me in the m-morning?" I groan as I snap my hips up on her downstroke, making her shudder as we collide over and over.

"Shut up, you," Cheryl gasps. "Here, play with these for awhile." She leans forward until her caramel tits are mashed all over my face, making it difficult to breath. I snare a nipple in my mouth and suck firmly, my tongue flicking the tip. Her pussy lubricates even more at this, her frothy cream bubbling out around my fuckstick to coat my heavy balls.

That's when I hear her pussy give out a little squelch, a little pop of her juices around my cock. It's an indication that my wife is getting close to cumming. I yank my wrists free from her grip, place my hands firmly around her waist, and begin bucking up in earnest, driving my dick deep into her quivering box. She sits bolt upright, her hands on my soft belly, shifting all her weight down on my pelvis, absorbing every thrust.

"F-fucking b-bastard," she hisses, her wide ass jiggling as she takes my pounding. "I-I'm supposed to b-be in control...oh fuck oh fuck ooHHH FUCK I'M GOING TO CUUMM—"

Cheryl screams as she hits her peak, her head thrown back as the orgasm wracks her body. Her creaming quim is squeezing and rippling all over my dark dick, trying to coax the white-hot lava out of my straining balls. Normally, I'd hold off, because my wife is good for at least two or three cums in a session. But it's late, she's half-drunk and I'm tired, so I dig my fingers into her soft asscheeks and let go, firing volley after volley of my seed deep inside her. My back arches as the pleasure of my pulsing prick runs up and down my spine, making my toes curl inside my Starburys.

Cheryl pants in my ear as we both come down from our mutual explosion. The room comes into focus again, and I caress her back as we cuddle and kiss, our commingled juices seeping out of her twitching slot as my dick softens and finally slips out, curling wetly onto my balls.

"UMMmmmmm," my wife murmurs as she peppers my face with light kisses. "Just what I needed, honey, all of that girl-talk had me so fucking wound up." She sighs and lays her head on my chest. "Now what were you saying before?"

"Well," I begin as I stroke her chestnut-colored braids, "you should never tell your girlfriends that your husband can really fuck, especially if their sex lives are all messed up. They start getting curious and shit; they want to find out for themselves if it's really true or not."

Cheryl plucks absently at my right nipple. "C'mon, Steve, these are my friends, my very best friends," she emphasizes. "They would never even THINK of coming on to you." A yawn. "And even if they did, you'd never do anything with them, right?"

"Of course not, honey!" I sputter, almost too quickly. "I'm just saying...just saying you should be careful of what you tell them. Okay?"

The only reply is light snoring. The combined effect of wine and sex has knocked Cheryl out on top of me. It takes me a few minutes to maneuver her limp form onto the bed and under the comforter. I stroke her cheek for a while, watching her sleep blissfully. I give her a peck on the tip of her nose, and then I join her in slumber.

By the time my eyes open the next morning, Cheryl is gone, off to her morning appointment, no doubt. She's always been an early riser, given she's ten years younger than me.

I gaze up at the ceiling, thinking about the night before, and I have to chuckle a little. Who am I kidding? Here I am, forty-five years old, and five years short of an AARP membership. My stomach is bigger than my chest. And whenever Cheryl's girlfriends see me, I'm dressed in baggy, bummy-yet-comfortable clothes. I'm no Wesley Snipes. Why in the world would they want me? I figure I'm pretty safe from any advances.

But then again, isn't that why this is my second marriage? You see, for a married man, it isn't hard to trip and fall dick-first into some strange pussy. Your wife's friends, or your sister-in-law's friends, make themselves available if a woman is not careful. My first wife took a picture of me naked, with my cock waving at full staff. She carried it around in her purse for awhile and, one day when she was at lunch with her friends, her purse spilled out. There I was on display in all my glory, with four pair of female eyes devouring every inch of that photo.

Well, sure enough, her friends starting acting funny around me, trying to get me to notice this or that on them. I told my first wife what was going on, but she thought I was being vain and turned a deaf ear to it all.

It didn't happen right away. A couple of years went by, and suddenly my wife and I weren't so cuddly anymore. Our sex life pretty much dropped off a cliff. She had headaches or cramps most of the time. In fact, it became a running joke in our close circle of friends of how little I was getting. Strangely enough, it wasn't that funny to me.

That's when her friends turned up the heat. They'd come by when my wife was out of town, or they'd have me come over to their place to fix their computer (I'm an IT professional, you see, so everyone thinks I can fix ANY computer problem—as if). Much skin would be exposed, many opportunities would be given--and many cold showers would be taken. I beat off so much I was getting calluses on my left hand.

But still, I resisted. Until the very furious—and very voluptuous--April Jennings had a knock-down, drag-out fight with her husband one night. She rushed over to our house and consoled herself in the arms of Loralee, my first wife. Then Loralee let her spend the night. Then...well, I dipped into April's good stuff. Let's face it; at that point I hadn't had pussy in four months. Thoughts of resistance went right the fuck out the window when April came on to me. But that's another story. (Read "April Showers".)

Anyway, I've learned my lesson from those days. Cheryl and I have a vibrant sex life. Our libidos match, and our tastes, although adventurous, are limited to the two of us. I can't ever foresee a time in which we could be tempted by the advances of others.

But later that day, after we've both arrived home from work, Cheryl receives a phone call that threatens to change all of that. In fact, in less than a minute and a half, the phone drops to the floor with a loud clatter--and my usually cheery wife rushes into my arms, sobbing loudly.