4 comments/ 58565 views/ 18 favorites My Wife's Sunday Bikeride By: rikkitampa2014 I awoke to the groggy, hungover vision of my wife Dolores standing over me. What is she wearing! She was dressed in black Spandex. A Spandex bra with an oval in the front that bared three inches of cleavage; and Spandex biking shorts that extended from her waist to her upper thighs and, frankly, left nothing to the imagination. Including her labia. (Can you say camel toe?) "What time is it?" I asked, rubbing my bleary eyes. "6:30." "Jesus!" It was a Saturday. Check that, a Sunday morning. "I need you to mount the bike-rack on my car and put my bike on it." "Why?" "What do you care?" "Where are you going at this hour?" "Meeting a friend. Hurry up. I'm running late." And with that, Dolores turned heel and left the room. What a big beautiful Spandex ass! I found myself in the guest bedroom-the room I was usually relegated to these days. The covers had been pulled up so Dolores-thankfully-hadn't realized I was wearing panties-a pilfered pair of HER panties. Although she probably suspected as much. I tried to keep balance as I picked my pants up on the floor and then pulled on yesterday's shirt. I hurried downstairs. Her Camry was backed up to the garage door, and she stood in the drive with her hands on her hips. "Where's your helmet?" I asked, with genuine concern. "Just put the bike on the car." "Who are you meeting?" "None of your business. Just hurry, will you?" "I'm hurrying!" I secured the bike rack to the trunk of her car then loaded the bike onto it, securing it with bungee cords. She got in the car, impatiently. "You got your helmet?" Dolores drove away. Into the sunrise. I had a hard-on in my pants. Had she noticed? I went back upstairs, pulled a fresh pair of microfiber panties from her drawer and masturbated in them, furiously. My cum dripped to the bathroom tile. It was all over my hand. I felt guilty, useless, as I cleaned up the mess, and rinsed her panties out. What kind of husband was I? Who was she going on a bikeride with at six o'clock on a Sunday morning? For months now-a year maybe-Dolores had been threatening to go outside our marriage for sex, if my performance in bed didn't improve. Was that what this was all about? Was she meeting another guy? A doctor, maybe? She'd spoken glowingly more than a few times about a doctor friend of hers who was an avid biker. Was she meeting him this morning for a ride, followed by another kind of ride? I went back to bed-master bedroom, MY bedroom-and played with my limp cock. Next thing I knew 10 a.m. had arrived. I got up and looked through the blinds at our driveway. It was empty. Dolores was still gone. This is serious business, I realized. I showered, went downstairs and threw her panties-the ones I'd defiled-into the dryer. I could hear her now, upon accidental discovery: "Pervert!" I started to make coffee but decided on a beer instead. The reality hit me: MY WIFE IS OUT ON A BIKERIDE WITH SOMEONE I DON'T KNOW AND SHE'S BEEN GONE FOR NEARLY FOUR HOURS! Are they still riding right now, I wondered. Are they fucking? It's really happening, I thought. She's being true to her word. And I'm the Dickless Wonder, as she likes to call me these days. The Dickhead. The Cuckold. The... Three beers and 30 minutes later my cell rang. I jumped at it. Dolores. Come and get me! Help! I'm in- But it was our daughter Adele's phone. "Hey sweetie," I said, only slightly deflated. "Is mom there?" "No." "Where is she?" "I don't know. She left early this morning. Said she was meeting someone." "That doctor friend of hers?" "Hunh?" "Slut! Fuck her. Hey, you want to come over for brunch, watch a movie?" "Sure!" Adele was 23, soon to turn 24. She'd lived at home all through college, then through a year-long internship. But her mom and her weren't getting along so she'd finally cut the cord and moved out-into a stylish former library, or church-I forget-that had been converted into apartments. It was in a "bad" neighborhood but Adele's biggest complaint, as a horny hetero woman in her twenties, was that all the other residents were gay. I arrived bearing flowers, from a Korean market. Adele had to buzz me in but her apartment door was open. After all, what did you have to fear from a building full of gay guys? Adele was in the kitchen. She was wearing one of her mother's old flowery kimonos-they had the same thick-but-sexy body-and who knows what else underneath. Maybe nothing. Her feet were bare. "For me?" she asked, of the flowers. "Far out!" I put my hands on her silky waist and we kissed-on the lips-twice. We hugged. "Oh daddy," she said. Or rather, purred. "You're so good to me." I admit it: I had another erection, albeit a temporary one. Brunch consisted of a terrible veggie omelet and Bloody Marys made with store-bought mix. Ugh! We ate in her "livingroom." Actually the apartment was a large one-room studio with the bed-the "bedroom" over by the windows-separated by a faux Japanese screen, with cranes on it. Whatever works. "This sucks!" Adele said with disgust, of her omelet. "No it doesn't. It's-" "It SUCKS!" She slurped down some more Bloody Mary. "Want to watch a movie?" "Sure!" Anything rather than have to choke down the rest of this tasteless omelet. We migrated to our usual positions on the leather couch I'd helped move into this place: my back against the Pier One cushions at the end, Adele leaning her against me. I kissed the nape of her neck-but let it go after that. "Want me to make popcorn?" she asked, as the movie came to life. "No." I wanted to continue holding my chunky daughter, close. "You sure? You're probably hungry." "I'm fine. Just like this." "Mom's a bitch." "No she's not." "Out all day with another guy?" "We don't know that." "I do." "Hush, darling. The movie's starting..." "I can feel you. You're getting hard already, daddy..." "No I'm not! Watch the movie. "This movie...sucks! I can tell already! From the credits!" "Darling...maybe it'll get better." "Screw it! Let's go to bed..." I finished licking my daughter's sweet-and-salty vagina and climbed up between her thick legs, behind the Japanese screen, behind the drawn blinds, and penetrated her. "Oh daddy," she said. I was pretty sure-though not certain-I'd given her an orgasm with my tongue. As is my wont-just ask her mother-I came quickly inside her. She asked, after a pause: "Did you cum?" "Sorry, baby." "That's OK," she said, and acrobatically opened the bedside drawer and pulled out our old friend, the vibrator. It was thicker than me, and veiny, and I imagined my daughter, solo at night, surrounded by uninterested gays in the other apartments, pleasuring herself with it. Besides, she already had a buttplug up her ass. Which made her vagina seem tighter as I introduced the dildo, and turned it on full vibrate. By my count she had three orgasms. At least, between her high-pitched cries and her fingers and toes wiggling in midair, it appeared that way. As I worked the dildo inside her I leaned over and sucked her beautiful, unblemished C-cup tits. Kissed them. Sucked her nipples-one then the other-then licked them. It was just like sucking her mother's tits, back in the day. The butt-plug had been her idea. She'd bought it online. Now, as she waved me off from dildoing her anymore-she'd had enough-I lifted her legs and extracted the buttplug as well. "Oh!" she said. "I'd forgotten that was even in there." I extracted it-pop!-and put it in my mouth. I sucked it. Adele had risen up on her elbows. "What are you doing, dad?" She looked horrified. Mystified at least. "I want to taste every inch of you," I said. "You're delicious!" "Gross!" "No it's not!" "Da-DEE!" she protested. "Really!" "In that case...," she said, reluctantly, after a pause. Adele rotated onto her hands and knees and offered up her beautiful ass. She reached her hands behind and spread her pale cheeks for me. Through the closed blinds, to my left, I could glimpse people walking down the sidewalk. Could they see in? Did they know we were father and daughter? I plunged my tongue into my daughter's dilated asshole. I snaked it inside. I wished it was six inches long. Eight inches! I wished I could run my tongue all the way up to her throat. I wanted to taste her shit! I wanted my tongue tip to bump against it. I wanted to lick it! I withdrew, breathless. Spun her chunky body onto its back and mounted her. Well, in a limp manner of speaking. I plunged my tongue deep in her mouth. We kissed, passionately. "Taste it," I said. "Taste what?" "Taste your own cum. Shit I mean!" "I taste it, daddy." "It's...delicious!" "No it's not! It's disgusting!" Underneath, through it all, Adele was stroking me. I came again, silently. A very pathetic, tiny, limp-dick load. "Oh daddy!" she said, trying to be nice, and smearing my meager cum over her belly. (It was my third orgasm today!) But I was done for now. Filled with guilt! Even more guilt! Adele's breath reeked of shit, and so did mine. I needed mouthwash. Dolores might be home... She was. She'd beat me, her Camry backed up to the garage. But I Sherlocked, based on the fact that she was still wearing her provocative black Spandex as she sorted through old mail on the kitchen counter, she'd hadn't been home long. It was nearly three. She turned the tables on me. "Where were YOU?" she asked accusatorily. "ME-ee?" I protested. Dolores folded her arms. I knew what that meant. "Adele invited me over for brunch," I confessed. "Then we watched a movie together." Dolores advanced toward me, shaking a wicked finger. "You keep your dick out of my daughter!" I had backed up a step. "She's my daughter too! Besides, I don't...I've never..." "Liar! Both of you! You're both sick fucks..." "Oh, nice," I said. "Your own beautiful daughter..." "Deny it all you want," Dolores snarled, "but I know what goes on behind my back with you two." "Behind MY back? I mean yours...Where did you go today? You've been gone for like..." Dolores composed herself and smoothed down her belly fold in the black Spandex. She smiled and said: "I spent the day with a wonderful, successful man who knows how to treat a woman properly and give her pleasure in bed. Something I haven't experienced in over ten years with you." "Come on...," I protested. "And get used to it," she continued, "cause this is going to become a regular thing. We go for a nice bikeride, have breakfast then he fucks my brains out." "Here?" "Not here!" Dolores replied, with a frown. "YOU were here. Or at least we thought you were. No, we went to a motel this time. Upstate." "Is he married?" "Happily. On the surface. A frigid WASP. Two blonde kids. But he's Italian, like me. He needs more than just-" "You need the house?" I asked. "Hunh?" "On Sundays maybe. So the two of you can...?" "You volunteering?" "It's just that..." "You pathetic fuck! So you can run off and fuck my daughter?" "Our daughter! No. I'm trying to be, you know, nice, Dolores. So you don't have to go and get..." "While you're in my daughter's bed?" "No. That's total bullshit. You're imagining things." "Daddy's little girl," her mother sneered, again. "I'm just saying..." "You're OK with me bringing him here while you're out...doing whatever?" "I'm just trying to..." "You're even more pathetic than I thought. The Dickless Wonder." Dolores's arms had crossed again. "Anyway, here's the deal. You sleep in the guest bedroom from now on. I don't need your pathetic attempts at satisfying me sexually anymore. Or your hands pawing me. Understand?" I was thinking. "Understand!" "Yes, dear," I finally replied. "You sleep in the guest bedroom. Number two, when I get back from one of my rendezvous, you jump when I speak and you run me a hot bath. And you provide warm towels for when I'm done but you don't-ever-touch my body anymore." My head was bowed, submissively. "Yes ma'am." And you hand-wash-not machine-hand-wash my cum-stained panties in the sink. With Woolite. Got it?" "Yes, dear." Her breast swelled, like Mussolini's. "And then you make me a nice dinner," she concluded, with a wave. "What?" she demanded, of my silence. "Yes, dear," I replied latently, before turning to climb the stairs. "Your breath stinks! What have you been up to?" "Why do you put with her?" my daughter-OUR daughter-Adele, had asked of me one day. "She treats you like shit. Like a slave! Why don't you tell her to go fuck off?" I shrugged. Had no answer, really. Finally said: "I love her, you know, like I love you." "But I'm not anything like her." "No. You're..." And with that I grabbed either side of my daughter's pretty face and kissed her on the lips. We kissed passionately, endlessly. I felt like I was in highschool again, parked in a convertible on an overlook. Adele was in college then. 19, 20 years old? I squeezed her mother's tits. I kneaded them. "Let's go to bed," she said, finally breaking off the kiss. "Really?" "Yes! I'm dying for it!" "Really? You've thought about this before?" I asked. She led me by the hand into the master bedroom, daughter and dad. Her mother was, I don't know, out trying to close a real estate deal or something. Good luck! It was mid-afternoon. A weekday. We jumped naked into bed and my daughter wrapped her thick legs around me. I penetrated her. My cock was bare. At that point I didn't care. I fucked her. Shot my pent-up load in her. I was hopelessly premature. "Oh, daddy...," she moaned, being kind. It was the first of many times...