1 comments/ 153538 views/ 15 favorites My Wife as a Birthday Present Ch. 01 By: Calvin427 The semester was nearly over and my wife Nancy and her classmates were working on small group projects instead of meeting as a class. To the disappointment of her heterosexual male classmates John, Arthur, Jerry, and Dean, she was placed in a work-group with three other women and the gay man. It was just as well. She and her project-mates managed to work without distractions and actually got something done. John called her on a Friday night (preceding the final Wednesday night class when the groups were to make their oral reports) and invited her to a birthday party for Dean the following night. He said the four guys from the class and maybe another couple of friends would meet at a bar near the university. Could she join them? It was a mostly-guy occasion and might get a little raunchy, he warned. She said she’d like to come but had a slight worry. “A friend” (meaning me, of course) could drive her the twenty miles to the bar, but how would she get back? If there were going to be a lot of drinking, would anyone be sober enough to drive? John said he didn’t plan to drink much, that in fact he hardly ever did, so he’d be able to drive her home (with the usual double meaning of the term, of course). So she said she’d be there. On Saturday I grew more and more excited as the time to take my wife to Dean’s birthday party neared. She was obviously looking forward to it, too. She took a shower and began getting dressed at around 7:30. I helped towel her off and marveled yet again at the near perfection of her body; at 5 feet 4 inches and about 110 pounds, Nancy is slender but with high, well-shaped breasts and a marvelous ass. It was the second week in December and very cold, but Nancy decided (with my prompting as I lay back on our bed watching her get ready) to put on a pair of black skin-tight ski pants she’d just bought. She wore no panties under them, of course. She began rummaging through her sweater drawer and, as I watched her wearing only those ski pants that showed off her perfect little ass, I developed a hard-on. I got up from the bed, walked up behind her, and wrapped my arms around my wife from behind. I gently caressed her small firm breasts and felt her erect nipples press against the palms of my hands. When I kissed her neck, she straightened up and, reaching behind her, ran her fingers through my hair. I moved my right hand down over her taut belly and into the front of her ski pants. Moving my hand lower, I paused to appreciate the unique texture of slightly moist pubic hair. Then I slid my hand down a little lower to her cunt and inserted my index finger gently inside her. Laughing, she removed my hand and twisted away from me. “Don’t do that now, Cal. I don’t want you making me wet down there. I’ll have to wear panties if you do.” I returned to the bed and lay back down. Noticing my erection under my sweat pants, Nancy stopped fiddling around with sweaters and joined me on the bed. “I guess I’d better take care of that before we go,” she said. At that, she pulled my pants down and freed my cock. Then she knelt on the floor by the bed and, holding my hard-on in her left hand, began kissing and licking my balls. I reached out with my right hand and cupped her ass. Soon she was doing what she knows I dearly love: jacking me off as she sucked my balls. She kept this up relentlessly for about five minutes until I said I was about to cum. When she saw that I was right on the verge, she took my cock into her mouth and finished me off with a brief but wonderful blow job. I shot semen way up into her throat and she swallowed every drop. She rested her head against my belly, gathering her breath. Then she smiled at me and said, “I know you like seeing me with other guys, but aren’t you glad that’s something I only do with you? I mean that and fucking?” “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to fuck guys like Arthur and Nick, guys with really big cocks?” I asked. “Of course I’m not sure. Sometimes I think about having those giant penises inside me.” She was silent for a moment, as though remembering something. Then she continued. “I had one or two big-cocked guys before I met you, you know. But I can’t even remember now what they felt like. I know one guy I fucked in high school was way too big. It hurt when he fucked me.” She’d told me about him before. He was a football player and they’d fucked at his parents’ house after a game. She said his cock must have been about nine inches long and he’d rammed it right inside her without any foreplay. Nancy resumed getting ready for the birthday party. “What do you think of this one?” she asked. She held up a tan sweater with buttons up the front. “It’ll be fine so long as you don’t button it too high,” I said. “You know how much guys love looking down your top.” She put it on and turned around to face me. The top three buttons were undone. “I hope it’s warm inside the bar. I’d hate to have my nipples getting too hard and showing through the sweater too much.” She said this as though she meant it, but she was joking, of course. She’s a committed exhibitionist if there ever was one. “It looks good,” I said, “but maybe a little too tight. One of your looser sweaters shows more tit when you lean forward.” So she took off the light tan sweater and put on a purplish sweater that was maybe two sizes larger. The material was pretty thin and it had a deep V-neck. Placing both hands on the bed, she bent forward and asked me how much I could see. “Well,” I answered, “I can see part of your left breast and all of your right one. I can see that delicious nipple that Arthur was sucking on three weeks ago. You know, the one that Nick played with during the video shoot until it was almost half an inch long.” She stood up and laughed. “You’ve had my tits in your mouth for several years now. You don’t begrudge the others a little nibble now and then, do you?” More teasing talk. She knew I loved watching other guys not only seeing parts of my wife they weren’t supposed to see but touching her, sucking her, fingering her. (As she had just pointed out, so far she had refused to fuck anyone else or give actual blow jobs – a little cock nibbling was OK with her, but she refused to take a strange cock in her mouth). In fact (as those who’ve read my other reports know), my strong interest in seeing her with other guys had led me to drill a peephole between the hallway closet and the living room. Through it I can watch my wife in action with various guys in the living room. And I’d be sure to be watching her, discreetly of course, at the bar later that night whether or not anyone came home with her. Ours is the perfect marriage of exhibitionist and voyeur. When Nancy pulled on a pair of warm boots and went into the bathroom to do her make-up, I got up and threw on a pair of baggy pants and a sweater. None of her classmates knew what her supposedly estranged husband (that’s me) looked like, but I figured it was a good idea to dress as inconspicuously as possible to blend in with the other bar patrons. I dropped Nancy at the bar, a pizza-and-beer place called Curley’s, at around 9:45. The party was supposed to start at 9:00 o’clock but we thought we’d give the guys a head start. I watched Nancy, wearing her long winter coat, enter the place before parking the car a half a block away and walking carefully (to keep from slipping on patches of ice on the sidewalk) back to the bar. It was fairly crowded and noisy inside. Dean’s wasn’t the only gathering in Curley’s. Families, those who’d come for pizza, had left some time ago and now it was more or less a bar for adults. I noticed a few women, none as good-looking as Nancy. As I suspected would be the case, my wife was the only woman in the birthday-party group. She had draped her heavy coat over a nearby railing and was sitting facing me -- I’d found a seat at the bar between two other lone patrons -- next to short and muscular Dean. Dean had his right arm draped over her shoulders. Receding-hairline Jerry and tall Arthur were seated at the right side of the table with their bodies sideways to me. Handsome-enough-to-be-a-model John wasn’t there (which surprised me since he’d promised to give Nancy a ride home), but three other guys I’d never seen before were. Two had their backs to me and the third, a bookish-looking red-headed kid who looked too young to be drinking anything stronger than Coca-Cola, was sitting on the other side of Nancy. I noticed that the kid kept his eyes riveted on the V-neck of her sweater. He’d probably already gotten a glimpse of Nancy’s breasts and was trying to get another, maybe a better, look at them. At the very least, he’d seen enough to figure out that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Three pitchers of beer and numerous mugs were on the table. In the first twenty minutes that I was there, those at Dean’s table drained the three pitchers and had three more delivered to their table. I noticed that Nancy only sipped from her mug while the others drank a lot quickly. Even the relatively reserved Arthur was putting it away pretty fast. Over the next hour or so the guys got louder and drunker. Dean had taken his right arm from my wife’s shoulders and now rested it on her legs. The red-headed kid sitting to her right had pulled his chair closer to her. She had to ask him once to move his chair so she could get out to go the rest room. As she stood up from the table with her back to Dean, she leaned forward (to get her balance, it seemed) and gave the kid a good look down her V-neck. Even from where I was sitting I could see most of her right breast as the top of the sweater fell open. But the kid had her breasts just inches from his face and obviously got a good look at least one of her nipples. Naturally, as she walked to the rest room, all the guys at her table (and many others in the room) had their eyes fixed on her ass. The ski pants clung to the perfect little swelling of her ass cheeks like tights. When she returned to the table a few minutes later (shooting me a sly smile on her way there), she had, or pretended to have, some difficulty getting past the young guy’s chair back to her chair. She had to lean way forward again, this time towards Dean, and for a few seconds her delectable ass was right in the kid’s face. Dean, with the spontaneity that comes from being drunk, did something then that endeared him greatly to the table. He reached up and pulled the front of Nancy’s sweater down several inches to expose her breasts fully to the guys sitting to his left. She was slow to react but eventually reached up with her left hand (she was still leaning forward on the table supporting her weight on her right arm) and struggled with Dean for a few seconds for control of her V-neckline. It was a good-natured tussle, my wife laughing while pretending to be annoyed, and at one point she fell backwards slightly against the kid. Instinctively, he reached up to catch her and got handfuls of my wife’s ass for his reward. If there was any question in his mind about whether or not she was wearing panties, this wonderful tactile experience must have answered it. My wife settled in again between Dean (who was laughing uproariously) and the kid (who had a very serious expression on his face). Just then, I noticed John walking toward their table. I hadn’t seen him enter the bar. In fact, I had given up on him and had resigned myself to figuring out some way to drive Nancy home since none of the guys she was with were halfway sober. John got an empty mug from the bar and sat down at the table between the kid and one of the other guys I didn’t know. He pour some beer from one of the pitchers into his mug and I found myself worrying about whether or not he would be good to his word not to drink much. He said something to Nancy and, standing up, she leaned across the table, embraced him, and gave him a big kiss. He stood up, too, and his body got in the way of my seeing down her V-neck as it fell open, but I knew the two unknown guys sitting to his right must have been able to. Nancy then straightened up abruptly and, turning to Dean, shouted “Damn it, Dean!” and began swatting him playfully on the head. Obviously, he had patted her ass or maybe even goosed her while she was bending forward. Her outburst had caused everyone in the bar to look over at Dean’s table, but all they saw was my wife briefly abusing a man then sitting down next to him as everyone had a good laugh. The jollity continued for another half hour or so before John, who had only drunk the one glass of beer, said something about it being time to take Nancy home. I could just make out remarks about it being too early for her to go and what a lucky bastard John was. Then I think someone said maybe they could all go with John. Unclear-headed discussion ensued, the gist of which was that John’s car was too small for everyone but that maybe Dean could ride along. By now, everyone was standing up and I wondered if the others intended to follow John’s car in other vehicles. I hoped not. It was a twenty- mile drive over patchy ice and the cops had been on the lookout for drunk drivers. I got up from the bar then (I’d had only one alcoholic beer and several O’Doul’s), left the bar, and went back to the car. I double-parked across the street from Curley’s (idling the engine, waiting for it to warm up so I could turn on the heater) and watched for my wife and her friends to emerge. About ten minutes later, after several other customers had exited, the front door opened and Arthur, Jerry, and the guys I didn’t know roiled out on to the pavement. They milled around a few seconds then Jerry held the door open as Dean stumbled through the door carrying Nancy, wearing her heavy coat, in his arms as though she were his new bride. Behind them came John and the young man. Dean set Nancy down and, standing behind her, bear-hugged her. John took off to get his car in the parking lot next to the bar and Arthur, Jerry, and the others stood around with Dean, Nancy, and the kid for a few minutes before walking up the street presumably to their vehicles. The kid, coatless, stood next to Dean hunched up against the cold. Evidently, the three of them were waiting for John to bring the car around. John’s car pulled up in front of the bar a few minutes later and the kid got in the front seat with John while Dean and my wife climbed into the back seat. (I wondered who was this kid, anyway. Well, I knew I’d find out later.) I wasted no time then. I got on the interstate and drove as fast as safety would allow back to our house. I parked the car around the corner and let myself in through the patio door. After pissing out all the O’Doul’s I’d drunk, I turned up the gas heat a little and checked out the refrigerator. There was most of a twelve-pack of beer left, enough to entertain her guests for a little while – as though my wife weren’t entertainment enough. Then I took off all my clothes except a T-shirt and checked the hall closet for supplies: a pissing jar, a water bottle, a roll of paper towels. I was ready to watch and listen to whatever might happen in the living room -- and maybe get off on it. I wondered about the odd threesome that would be stopping by: John, the handsome married guy who’d already been pretty intimate with my wife (fingerfucking her to orgasm); Dean, also married, who’d never seen her completely naked though he’d gotten plenty of looks at her breasts down blouses and sweaters; a somewhat nerdy-looking kid, somehow attached to Dean, who’d been ogling my wife’s body all evening. Sitting on the living room couch in the dark, thinking about the relatively innocent fooling around at Curley’s and waiting for them to show up, I was beginning to get excited. It had been hours since Nancy had sucked me off and my cock was getting hard again thinking about what might take place right where I was sitting within the next hour. My Wife as a Birthday Present Ch. 02 At a few minutes past midnight I heard John's car pull up in front of the house. I didn't bother looking out the front window but walked directly to the hallway closet to get ready to watch Nancy entertain her male friends. She came through the door first and switched on the lights in the living room (two floor lamps on either end of the couch). Then followed Dean, John, and the young man who seemed to be with Dean. As soon as they were indoors, Dean's cell-phone went off and he walked into the kitchen to answer it. The boy, who must have been sneaking beer at the bar, plopped down on the couch and somewhat blearily watched Nancy take off her heavy coat and lay it across the back of an armchair. He kept watching as she bent forward to remove her boots and was rewarded, I think (her back was to me), by yet another view down her loose sweater top. John headed down the hall to use the toilet. I could hear Dean in the kitchen talking to someone on his phone but couldn't quite make out what he was saying. A minute or so later Nancy joined him there and I heard her say, "Oh, really? That's too bad." Then Dean and she walked back into the living room. Dean had a serious expression on his face as though he'd received bad news. I watched Nancy turn to face the hallway and say, "Dean just talked to his wife. Sounds like there's some kind of mess at home and he has to get back right away." She was speaking to John, who had finished in the bathroom and was standing too far to my left for me to see him. "Can't you stay a little while?" asked John, walking into my field of vision. "Remember what Nancy said at Curley's about your birthday present, letting you see what you missed by not being at the horny video session. Isn't that a good reason to stick around?" John, Dean, and Nancy were standing within a few feet of my peephole so I could hear everything they said clearly. This little complication with Dean's wife appeared to be a setback to our plan (well, Nancy's plan), whatever it was. Did she really mean to reenact for Dean all the things she did with Nick and John – the cunnilingus, the fingering to orgasm? And what about the kid sitting on the couch looking goofy? Was he old enough to be involved in any of this? "Are you kidding?" said Dean. "I'd love to stay awhile. But, damn it! One of the kids is sick and, well, she's using it as an excuse to play the martyr." He was really perplexed and frustrated now. "And I've got to figure out something to do with Pete." (This was obviously the name of the nerdy kid.) "I can't bring him home like that. I thought we could give him a while to sober up. I mean, he's just eighteen and my wife'll never stop letting me have it for getting my innocent little nephew drunk." "Hey, I'm not innocent. Fuck." This came from Pete on the couch. Saying "fuck" was meant to prove his point, I guess. "I know that," said Dean, "but you know Marianne thinks you are." Marianne must have been his longsuffering wife's name. Dean moved over to Nancy and hugged her. "Maybe we could stay for about thirty minutes," he said to John over her shoulder. "Would you mind driving us home then? I'd really appreciate it." "Maybe there's time for Nancy to give you an abbreviated version of what you missed," said John. Nancy laughed and said, "Sure. But are you sure it's all right in front of Pete?" "Hey, I'm not fucking innocent," said Pete, trying again to sound a lot harder than he was. Dean still hugged Nancy. He ran his hands up and down her back, slyly caressing her ass each time his hands got down there. "It would do him good," he said. "At that prep school he's been going to they never get to even look at a girl. Much less a doll like you. He's led a disadvantaged life for a rich kid." John said to Nancy, "You still have that cute little skirt and top you wore in the video, don't you? That schoolgirl outfit? I know Dean would like to see you in that. So would I. And, well, you did promise." "OK. I'll go put it on now, but I'm not wearing that silly wig with the pig-tails." She broke loose from Dean's grasp and headed to the kitchen. I heard her open the refrigerator door. "There's some beer in here you guys can have while you're waiting." She reemerged from the kitchen with a can of beer in her hand, walked over to the sound system and switched on an FM jazz station (setting the volume low), and headed up the hall to our bedroom. Dean and John went into the kitchen and returned with beers for themselves and one for Pete. "Make this your last one, Pete. I've contributed to the delinquency of a minor enough for one night. And we're going to have to figure out something to do with you tonight. Maybe I can distract Marianne while you sneak into the guest room." John sat in a modified lotus position on the carpet in front of the coffee table and Dean sat on the opposite end (on the left end, from my vantage point) of the couch from Pete. I took my eye away from the peephole and sat down on the floor of the closet to wait for Nancy's return to the living room. No use tiring out my eyes watching three guys drinking beer. A few minutes later I heard Nancy's voice back in the living room. I returned to the peephole and noticed that, good to her word, she was wearing the same flared skirt and white button-down blouse that she'd worn at the video shoot. Even without the little-girl wig, she looked about Pete's age. Standing next to John, still sitting on the carpet, Nancy put a hand on his shoulder for balance, lifted her right foot, and set it down on the coffee table. Then, striking a clichéd movie-actress pose with her right hand behind her head, she asked, "How do you like this outfit?" Dean smiled and said he liked it a lot and the kid, sitting at the other end of the couch, just stared at her crotch. I couldn't be sure from my vantage point, but the way Nancy was standing was probably letting the two of them see whether or not she was wearing panties. "From what I heard," said Dean, "the video shoot was a making-out scene with this foreign guy. Are you going to show us some of that?" "Sure, I guess so," said Nancy. "After all, erotic modeling is what I do, right? And it doesn't always have to be for money. Who's going to be Nick's stand-in, though?" "Dean's the birthday boy," said John. Dean started to protest that he was only here as an audience, but when Nancy quickly walked over to him and plopped herself down sideways on his lap (an action that gave Pete a nice view up her skirt) he gave in to the idea of being a participant. She placed her left arm around his neck and gave him a friendly peck on the forehead. "You're going to have to tell me what to do," she said to John. "I got pretty involved in that video session but can't remember exactly what happened when." "Well, the first thing Nick did was to play with your tits through your blouse," said John, obviously loving, for the time being at least, the role of director. "So that's your first task, Dean. Get to it." "Damn," Dean said laughingly (but also a little self-consciously, I thought). "Do I have to?" Tentatively, he brought his right hand up to Nancy's breasts and began manipulating first one, then the other. As he did, Nancy brought her face up to his cheek and kissed him. I think she was whispering something encouraging to him. Dean's nephew still sat at Nancy's feet taking it all in: my wife's legs and crotch, his uncle's right hand massaging her breasts, her lips against the side of his face. My cock had become quite stiff watching all this, and I had no doubt that young Pete's would soon be hard, too, if it wasn't already. An eighteen-year-old is always on the verge of getting an erection, anyway. John picked up the coffee table and set it to the side. He was obviously clearing an area in front of the couch for further fun with my wife. Dean, meanwhile, had insinuated his hand inside Nancy's blouse (somehow a button had come undone) and was vigorously manipulating her left breast. She continued kissing his cheek and began making a sort of cooing noise. After a minute or so of this, John asked Dean how he liked the feel of Nancy's breasts. "They feel great. In fact, they're perfect," said Dean. "I've been looking at these sweet tits all semester, but I never thought I'd get to handle them like this." "I hope you don't think they're not too small," said Nancy. "They feel great. They're perfect little handfuls," said Dean. "Way better than the those big floppies of Marianne's." John got back into director mode. "We're short on time. Let's get rid of the blouse now. Is that OK, Nancy?" "Sure," said Nancy. "Can somebody give me a little help?" Dean removed his hand from Nancy's blouse and spoke to his young nephew: "Don't be a slacker, Pete. The lady needs help getting her blouse off. Do I have to do everything?" (He said this in a pretty good Oliver Hardy voice.) Pete hesitated for a second, then (after Nancy swiveled around on Dean's lap to make way for him) crawled across the couch next to his nephew. Nancy was now sitting facing John and me and, looking over John's shoulder, I could see that she was wearing a pair of her ordinary white cotton panties. Leaning forward on his knees and using both hands, Pete clumsily but eventually undid the button just above Nancy's breasts. Then, moving his hands down past the button that Dean had somehow already undone, he slowly undid the bottom button, the one just above the waist of her skirt. He rocked back on his knees then, but when John complained that her breasts were still covered, Pete obliged everyone by pulling the blouse wide open. Pete leaned forward to get an even better look at my wife's beautiful breasts. Her nipples, only a little darker than the light pink areolas surrounding them, were quite erect, probably from Dean's manipulation of them. Dean, looking down at her breasts, said, "Damn, they're really beautiful, Nancy!" He then reached around her and cupped a breast in each hand. He caressed them for a while but was soon pinching her nipples gently and rolling them between his fingers and thumbs. Nancy put her head back against him and, closing her eyes, began breathing a little harder. After about a minute of this, John walked over to the couch and, taking Nancy by the left arm, pulled her up from Dean's lap into a standing position. Her blouse, though completely unbuttoned, fell forward and again more or less covered her well-fondled breasts. "We can't stay much longer," he said, "so let's move on to something more erotic." Dean and Pete looked only slightly annoyed at having Nancy taken away from them. I'm sure the promise of "something more erotic" appeased them. John pulled Nancy's blouse out of her skirt waist, then removed it entirely and tossed it on the floor. She now stood facing him wearing only the short skirt and, of course, the white panties under it. I could see (we could all see) that my wife's beautiful nipples were very erect and jutting outward and upward right at him. John said, "I'm sorry, but first I've got to take a minute to do this." He leaned forward, as though unable to resist the temptation, and took Nancy's left nipple between his lips. He spent maybe twenty seconds sucking on it. As he sucked her, she placed her right hand around the back of his neck, encouraging him to keep doing it. Then, as John placed her other nipple in his mouth and began sucking it, my wife looked over toward me and smiled. She then closed her eyes with pleasure and made a slight moaning sound. Watching through my peephole, I had been getting more and more aroused. Seeing that smile, seeing my wife throwing her head slightly back and closing her eyes with pleasure, hearing that little involuntary moan – all of this did it for me. I had to cum into a paper towel I had in the closet with me for that purpose. Since Nancy had sucked me off only a few hours earlier, I didn't shoot a huge amount, but the orgasm felt wonderful nonetheless. As my spasms subsided, I watched John kiss her deeply on the mouth, pick her up in his arms, and lay her down in front of the couch where the coffee table had been. As I viewed the scene, she lay sideways with her head to my left and her feet to my right. On the couch, Dean and Pete leaned forward to take in every inch of her reclining body. John knelt on one knee, meanwhile, over her upper body. She held her naked breasts in her hands as though suddenly modest, but her little skirt had been flipped up somehow so her white panties were now fully exposed. "Oh, God," I heard her say softly, "I'm getting pretty turned on. Are you sure you guys have to leave?" "We still have a little time," said John. "In the video session, I remember you kept your skirt on but you lost your panties. We want a true reenactment for Dean, right? Is it OK if we take them off you? She said something I couldn't hear, but it obviously wasn't "no." Dean spoke up from the couch then: "Maybe that can be Pete's job. He did such a good job with the blouse, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind." He turned to his nephew and gestured with his head for Pete to get to it. Pete, slumping forward (an attempt to conceal his hard-on, I think), climbed off the couch and was soon on the carpet at Nancy's feet. At first, she lay quite still, her hands covering her breasts and her legs together. Then she raised her head up and looked at the boy as though she were uncomfortable with his involvement. I guessed what she was thinking: raunchy was one thing, child endangerment another. John got back into the role of director. "OK, Pete, go ahead and pull her panties off. Nancy, maybe you can lift your butt off the floor a little to make it easier." "Just a second," said Nancy to Dean, "How old did you say Pete is?" "He's eighteen. He looks younger than that, but he's legally an adult now." "Besides," added John, "there's not going to be any actual fucking, right?" "That's definitely right," said Nancy, arching her back and spreading her legs slightly. At that, Pete reached forward and, gripping the sides of her panties, quickly pulled them down her legs and over her feet. He sat on his haunches then, holding the panties in one hand and staring intently at Nancy's exposed cunt. "I should have told you to take them off slowly, Pete," said John. "It's a lot sexier that way. Now that you've got them off, though, how do you like what you see?" The kid was struck mute but continued to stare. Nancy legs were slightly parted and she had now brought her knees up. The close-up view of a real (not Internet) tight pink-lipped cunt, surrounded by a lovely swatch of wispy, light-brown cunt hair, must have been one of the highlights of his young life. Since she was still lying sideways to me, I could only imagine the precise details of what he was seeing. Dean stood up then and got down on the carpet next to his nephew. He muscled him about two feet to the side (towards me), usurping the privileged vantage point. "It's my birthday," he explained. "You don't get to have all the fun." "What did that foreign guy do next?" he continued. As he asked this, Dean placed a hand on each of Nancy's knees, separating them an inch or so further apart, and scooted on his knees closer to her. Pete, meanwhile, had moved slightly behind his uncle and, dipping his head down to get a viewing angle past Dean's muscular torso, kept his eyes riveted on my wife's pretty cunt. John leaned forward over Nancy. "I think you sat on his face then, didn't you, Nancy? I remember watching Nick eating you as he was lying on his back." Nancy had closed her eyes and, at first, I thought she wasn't going to answer John. She seemed distracted and I noticed that she had begun playing with her breasts. That's when I noticed Dean's right hand was no longer resting on her knee. "Oh, God. Yes. I think I remember that, too," she finally said. When she gave a little gasp and said, "Oh, Dean, that feels good," I gathered that he was caressing or fingering my wife's cunt and my cock was again beginning to stir. "So, Dean," said John, "how would you like to lie down and have Nancy lower herself on to your mouth?" Ignoring the question, Dean backed off from Nancy several feet and stretched out on his belly between her legs. His head must have been about two feet from her crotch. He brought his right hand forward then and resumed fingering her cunt. Lying on his belly like that he had a much better view of what he was doing than before. And so did young Pete, who was leaning forward over his uncle watching him at work on my wife. After several minutes of being fingerfucked, Nancy began breathing spasmodically, and I knew she was getting close to an orgasm. Abruptly, though, she surprised everyone by putting a stop to it. "Oh, Dean, that's so, so good. But I'd like you to stop. I don't want to cum this way. Could you use your tongue on me the way Nick did? You know, with me on top the way John mentioned. I really get off on that." She was sitting up now and I watched her gently remove Dean's slippery-wet right hand from her crotch. As he raised himself up to his knees, I noticed Dean's face was suddenly quite flushed and he seemed somehow troubled. Was he embarrassed? I knew he was aroused because there was a large bulge in his trousers. Maybe "eating pussy" wasn't something he was comfortable doing. Or maybe he was somewhat inhibited by having his nephew present. When he finally managed to speak, it was clear that he was embarrassed: "Actually, I've never done that before. I'm not sure I even know how." John came to Dean's rescue: "I remember more or less how Nick did it. Would it be OK for me to be the stand-in?" He seemed to be asking both Dean and Nancy. Nancy leaned forward to Dean (they were both on their knees, she naked except for her little skirt, he fully clothed) and kissed him deeply. "That sounds like a good idea. I'd like to do it just right for you, Dean. Why don't you just watch this time and maybe, if you like, you can do me orally next time," she said. Then she stood up and, taking handsome John by the hand, positioned him so he was lying on his back with his head in my direction. I noticed that there was quite a bulge in his trousers, too. To complete the inventory, I thought about checking out Pete's crotch area. But by then Nancy was straddling John's prone body with her skirt flipped up on her back and that perfect ass of hers aimed right at my peephole. What a view she was giving me! Dean (who seemed to have gotten over his embarrassment) and his cousin crawled over between me and the action to get a better look. Reclining on the carpet, though, they were low enough not to be in my line of vision. I was already completely hard again. And I couldn't help stroking my cock as I watched Nancy scoot back on her knees so her crotch was only several inches over John's face. Her cunt lips were slightly spread and quite wet from the fingering Dean had just given her. I noticed that some of the moisture was around her tight little asshole, too. As she brought her cunt down closer to John's mouth, he reached up with his hands and, using his thumbs, spread her wide open. This caused her to groan and I noticed for the first time that, half lying on John's body, she had a hold of his erect cock through his trousers. "Damn, that's beautiful, Nancy!" exclaimed Dean. "Please show it to us like that a little more." John did as asked. He held her cunt a few inches above his face (I think she'd given up trying to press it down on his mouth) and spent almost thirty seconds playing with it -- opening and closing her cunt and rubbing his thumbs across her partially exposed, swollen clit. From her excited clit to her alternately stretched and relaxed cunt lips to the opening and closing of her vaginal tunnel -- it was a wonderfully obscene display. And that asshole of hers, also intermittently stretched open by the pressure of John's thumbs, seemed to just beg for a cock in it. My Wife as a Birthday Present Ch. 02 Finally, John relaxed his grip on her and she lowered her cunt straight on to his mouth. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed as she made contact. John immediately buried his tongue as deep inside her as it would go and Nancy, who had arched her back and raised her upper body to about a forty-five degree angle, began repeating the phrase over and over, "Oh god oh god oh god oh god." Then John pulled his tongue out of her and, pushing her off his face slightly to allow himself more freedom of motion, proceeded to give her cunt lips and clit a thorough tongue-lashing. As he did this, he held her wide open again with this thumbs. On the FM station, some soul-singer was doing "Love for Sale," but I think I could actually hear the lapping sound John's tongue made as it teased and tasted my wife's now very wet cunt. Nancy was groaning now almost non-stop now and occasionally saying things like, "Yes, keep doing that," "That's so good," and "Oh, God!" I was stroking my cock slowly, trying not to cum before the horniest possible part of Nancy's show. And I noticed that Pete, lying on his left elbow and at an angle so his uncle couldn't see what he was doing, was working his right arm furiously. I couldn't tell exactly how Dean was reacting, but he was definitely paying attention. Then, after enduring (and encouraging with little remarks) John's relentless tongue-lashing for another two or three minutes, Nancy suddenly inhaled deeply and tensed her upper body. She remained breathless and rigid for almost five seconds before letting out a rather high-pitched squeal, unlike any sound she'd made thus far. This was followed by a series of similar squeals. She was obviously having an orgasm and it was a really powerful one that seemed to go on forever. It was prolonged, I think, by John's inserting his right index finger in her asshole and keeping it there until her spasms subsided and she let her upper body slump forward on him. Needless to say, I also came then. No one said anything for almost thirty seconds as the FM jazz announcer droned on about something. Then Nancy, still lying on John with her legs splayed, her sopping wet cunt and asshole still on full display to everyone, said, "How are we doing for time now?" She still had her right hand on John's hard cock and was rubbing it gently through his trousers. Dean laughed. "Damn, I forgot all about Marianne," he said. "The thing is, this was the best damned birthday party I ever had and I lost all track of time. It's a good thing I turned off my cell phone." Nancy crawled off John, swiveled her body around, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Then she whispered something to him I couldn't hear, frowned at him, then kissed him on the lips. Was she thanking him? Chastising him mildly for sticking a finger in her ass? (She later told me it was the latter.) Then she stood up and announced that she had to go the bathroom. She'd be back in a few minutes, she said, to tell them good-bye. As she crossed in front of me on the way to the hallway, she looked at me, smiled, and rolled her eyes up. This was her way, I knew, of signaling how good the experience had been for her. Dean helped John struggle to his feet and, noticing each other's hard-ons, they laughed. Pete stood up and turned his back to them. Because he was now facing me, what he was trying to hide from them was in my plain sight. It was a huge wet spot in the front of his khaki trousers. As the three of them got ready to go, I noticed with amusement how he tried every possible way to keep his wet spot concealed from the others. Soon Nancy was back, wearing her very short terry cloth robe. She gave all three of them, even Pete, a kiss on their way out the door. She kissed John last and longest. As they broke the kiss, I heard her say to him, "No, not tonight. I've really got to get to sleep." Then he reached under her robe, patted her naked ass, and was gone with the others. Even before we heard them pull away in John's car, Nancy was in my arms kissing me. "How about a shower together and good fuck?" she asked. So we showered. As for the fucking, I'm afraid I wasn't up to it for another six hours. When we fucked, though, Nancy couldn't stop talking about how good John had felt when he ate her cunt and stuck his finger in her asshole. She asked me how I'd liked watching him do these things to her and somehow her asking me the question, despite its being so early in the morning, put me over the edge; fucking her doggie-style, with a finger in her asshole where last night John's finger had been, I came and came and came inside her.