0 comments/ 25012 views/ 0 favorites Treed Ch. 02 By: Cal Y. Pygia Once my wife, Jenny, had caught a glimpse of our nudist neighbor, twenty-year-old Tammy Butler, sunning herself in her backyard, Jenny was as hooked on her beauty as I was, although my wife's enchantment with our neighbor's charms wasn't evident to me at first. In fact, I thought, initially, that Jenny pretty much abhorred, despised, detested, hated, and otherwise loathed poor Tammy, especially after Jenny had found the tripod-mounted camera I'd left pointed out of the window in the tree house I'd built for our son Johnny--the window that overlooked Tammy's backyard. During the night, while I'd been asleep, Jenny had taken the keys to the padlock that secured the trapdoor of the platform through which one had to ascend before he or she could climb into the tree house itself, and she'd entered the secret fortress. Immediately upon awakening and discovering the missing key, I'd scrambled up into the broad oak and into the tree house, where Jenny awaited me, seated in the armchair I'd hoisted into place several weeks ago. She'd nodded toward the camera. "Care to explain that?" she'd demanded, her tone icier than ice, and I'd known that our marriage was over. Except that, as it turned out, it wasn't over. Instead, I'd confessed to her that she hadn't exactly been the passionate sexpot she'd been during the early years of our marriage. Sex, when she bothered to indulge my fleshly appetites for it at all, was, at best, merely perfunctory. She was mechanical, not ardent. She just went through the motions--or, more accurately, she was pretty much motionless, like a mannequin or one of the inflatable sex dolls that adult book stores sell, airless and lifeless and folded inside cheap boxes. I'd told her, that morning, that I needed the Jen I'd married, the vibrant, sensuous, intense, passionate, intimate, arousing, and lustful Jen who could make the world stop and my head and heart explode, along with my cock, when she took my prick down her throat, up her ass, or deep inside her cunt. Instead, the playful young woman who'd once happily (and convincingly) played the strumpet, the virgin, the college cheerleader, and a score of other sexy roles had become a reluctant and vapid mannequin. I'd expected to sleep on the couch forever after telling Jenny how it had become between us. Maybe, despite Johnny, she'd divorce my ass, I'd feared, but Jenny had surprised me by actually understanding my grievance, accepting my criticism, and doing something about it. After seeking assurance that Tammy couldn't see us unless we went to the window of the tree house that overlooked her backyard, Jenny had taken off her clothes, getting naked, right then and there, in our son's tree house, and I'd fucked her, deep and hard, in her beautiful bubble butt. "Fuck me, Jimmy!" she'd invited--or commanded--and I had. Afterward, as I lay on the floor, recovering, Jenny had gone to the window, still naked, my sperm shining, like lustrous pearls, on her back, her ass, and her thighs, and, looking down, from her vantage point, had called to me, over her shoulder, "She's there, all right. Oh! She sees me! She's smiling--and waving. Now, she's gesturing to me to join her." Incredibly, Jen had returned our neighbor's wave. To me, as she continued to ogle Tammy, Jen had said, "She's quite beautiful. I can see what you see in her." "Saw in her," I corrected my wife, assuring Jenny that I loved only her and agreeing that I'd get rid of the camera and stop coming to the tree house to admire our nudist neighbor. I even suggested that Jen keep the keys to the padlock, and our marriage has been great, sexually and otherwise, ever since that day. In fact, it's gotten better and better. Let me explain why. * * * This morning, I awoke to find the bed empty beside me. I called my wife's name, but there was no answer. I checked the bathroom, the kitchen, the laundry room, even the garage. Her car was parked beside my own. Johnny was spending the night with my parents, so I knew she hadn't gone for a walk with him. Frowning, I went outside, into the backyard. I didn't see her among the geraniums or the petunias or the marigolds. I checked a storage shed, thinking maybe she'd gone to fetch a wheelbarrow or some gardening tools. She hadn't. Then, I thought of the tree house. Looking up, I saw that, indeed, the trapdoor in the platform that provides access to the fortress above hung open. Obviously, my wife had climbed inside my former sanctuary. Why? Surely not to spy, as I had, upon our nudist neighbor. Jen wasn't interested in other women. She could appreciate their beauty, of course, but only from an objective, detached, usually critical, point of view. She'd have no interest in ogling another woman, clothed or naked. Then why had she ascended the oak? I asked myself. Why was she in Johnny's tree house? My birthday was coming up in a couple of weeks. Had she hidden my gift up there? Curious, I called her name. There was no answer. Shrugging, I decided to climb the oak and poke my head through the trapdoor. I'd call her name again, to let her know I was there, so she could hide my present before my arrival and make up some excuse as to why she'd visited the aerie. "Jenny?" I called. No answer. "Jen?" She still made no reply, and, concerned that she might be in trouble--maybe she'd fallen and knocked herself out--I scrambled the last few feet up the rungs nailed into the trunk of the great, spreading oak, and entered the tree house. The place was as we had left it, weeks ago, when I'd agreed never to set foot in Johnny's treetop abode again, swearing off any further interest in Tammy's exhibitionism. The armchair was vacant, as was the small settee opposite it. The round, braided throw rug was in place, flat on the timbers of the floor between the two pieces of furniture, and the lamps were off, their shades straight. The paintings on the walls and the photographs of us and our son stood undisturbed in their frames atop the bookcase filled with Johnny's comics and books. The doily draped across his storage chest was also undisturbed. The only thing that was different about the place, I noticed with a shock, was that my tripod-mounted camera was back in place, standing before the window, and pointed in the direction of our nudist neighbor's backyard. I noticed, too, with another shock, that the binoculars I'd once used to get up close to, if not personal with, Tammy occupied the windowsill. I hadn't brought either item back into the tree house, and neither had Johnny, who wasn't allowed to enter the tree house and wouldn't be for at least another five years, when he'd turned twelve, which left just one other person--the one who held the keys to the place. Jenny. She had set up the tripod-mounted camera. She had set the binoculars on the windowsill. But why? A faint breeze played at the curtains opened at the window that overlooked Tammy's backyard, and I went, instinctively, without thinking, to the casement. Setting the camera aside, I stood before the window and looked down, over the fence that separated our backyard from our neighbor's lawn. I saw Jenny standing over Tammy, who, sunning herself--in the nude, as always. The younger woman lay upon her tummy, on a beach towel, staring up, her wide blue eyes on my wife's face as Jen spoke to her. My wife's posture seemed neither confrontational nor cordial. It was neutral, I'd say, neither threatening nor gentle, and Tammy didn't seem afraid. Perhaps they were merely chatting, I thought. My eyes damn near bulged from their sockets at what I saw next, and I nearly fell over backward, my knees buckling. My wife, still standing over my neighbor, reached behind her own back, unfastened her halter top, and let spring forth her firm, high, round breasts, bearing her boobs to our neighbor. Letting the top drop, fluttering, to the green lawn beside our neighbor's beach towel, Jen then kicked off her heels and slid the denim mini-skirt she wore down, over her hips and past her thighs. She stepped out of the garment and let it drop, too, beside her discarded top. She was now as topless and bottomless as our neighbor. Completely nude, my wife knelt on the towel beside our neighbor. My cock stiffened in my trousers, and I absently rubbed my swelling, stiffening member through the tight, thin fabric as I watched my wife caress and massage another woman's naked flesh. Tammy put her head down, resting the side of her face upon the stacked backs of her hands, her elbows bent to form a pillow. Jen's right hand, spread flat, revolved in fluid circles, rubbing the buoyant mounds of Tammy's bare backside; paused to knead the silken flesh or to clutch and squeeze the firm, but pliant cheeks; stopped momentarily to trail the edge of a sculpted thumb- or fingernail along the deep cleavage of Tammy's golden-brown bottom. Although, from my distant perch, I couldn't hear either woman, I imagined Tammy's soft, contented sighs and aroused moans. I wondered whether a trickle of her natural lubricant meandered from her hairless cunt, tickling, down one of her firm, bare inner thighs. I wondered, too, whether my wife's breath had quickened, like her heart, and whether the bud of her clitoris had blossomed to hardness as she stroked and rubbed and fondled the beautiful body of our nudist neighbor. My cock, I found, was rock hard, and I jerked my zipper down, fished inside my slacks and underpants, and freed my stiff, thick cock, upon the glans of which, I saw, a bead of clear Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, had formed, a drop of dew, as it were, upon a purple rosebud newly bloomed. Seizing the firm stalk of my manhood in my fist, I pumped the taut flesh back and forth, up and down, upon the straining member as I watched my wife massage our neighbor and wished, with all my heart and soul, that I were with them. My wife shifted on the beach towel, scooting closer to Tammy. Her thumb shoved between the younger woman's silken buttocks. My cock a rock, I imagined the ball of Jen's thumb against Tammy's tight anal orifice, jabbing slightly, but forcefully, at the portal to our nudist neighbor's innermost depths. My prick strained in my pumping fist, and my balls, high inside the contracted pouch of my scrotum, ached. A moan escaped my lips. I frowned, concentrating upon the incredible show that the lovely women--one of them my own wife!--were putting on in Tammy's backyard. I wondered whether they suspected that I was watching them. Probably, they did, I thought--or hoped--and the idea that they were aware of my presence fanned the lust that spread through my loins and my groin like wildfire. Although the distance between me and the women on the lawn beyond the fence separating Tammy's backyard from mine and Jen's prevented me from seeing such fine detail as whether Tammy's thumb had entered Tammy's asshole, I assumed that it had, for Jen's closed hand was pumping back and forth, jabbing and jostling the younger woman's buttocks, as if the digit impaled the nudist's bottom. Jen seemed to be thumb-fucking our neighbor, who wriggled her beautiful buttocks as Jen continued to hump her with her balled-up hand. Remembering the binoculars on the windowsill, I snatched them up, peering through the objective barrels. The distance between us disappeared as my wife's thumb and Tammy's anus loomed into view, and, sure enough, Jen's thumb was shoved up Tammy's asshole, all the way past the second knuckle. Excited beyond words, I muttered a curse: "Damn!" As I watched Jen's thumb fucking Tammy's asshole, I continued to pump the taut flesh up and down upon the shaft of my throbbing, pulsing prick. A surging sensation spread from my balls, through my groin, my lower abdomen, and my inner thighs, and my knees threatened to buckle. Orgasm was close, ecstasy imminent. I slowed the motion of my hand and arm, breathing deeper, slower, willing myself--and my cock and balls--to hold off. I wanted to come, desperately--but not just yet. Tammy turned onto her side, and my wife's hand slid from between the younger woman's buttocks. Our neighbor turned from her side to sit upon her amazing ass, and Jen crouched over Tammy, pressing her cunt to the nudist's lovely face. I trained the binoculars upon the women, and my wife's bald pussy leaped into view, Tammy's moist, pink tongue licking between Jen's wet, glistening labia. I lost it, my thick, warm, white cum jetting from my stiff, thick cock in splattering, spattering streams, against the curtains and spurting through the open window, out into the air and down, over the grass of the lawn below. So intense was my orgasm that I would have easily believed that my ejaculate could have shot all the way across the backyard, to splash and spray the fence between our yard and Tammy's--or even beyond, showering my wife and our neighbor as they remained locked in their passionate lesbian embrace. Another geyser of my semen spewed forth, and another, and another, until my sore, aching balls were drained of my fecundating fluid, and I half-staggered backward, against the far wall, nearly falling through the trap door in the tree house's floor. As I backpedaled, I saw Jenny wave to me, a clear invitation to join her and Tammy. I tucked my sperm-smeared cock into my pants and, without bothering to zip my fly, hastened down the rungs nailed against the oak's bole. I needn't be extended a second invitation. I was ready, willing, and able to participate in any and every sex act that either Jen, Tammy, or I could devise. I sprinted across the backyard and through the side gate that would allow me access to the narrow lane that led to the side of Tammy's fenceless yard. As I ran, I smiled. My question had been answered. Both women had been aware of my presence in the tree house. They'd known I was watching them. In fact, they'd been putting on a show, just for me, probably well aware, even as they kissed and fondled and groped each other, that I was masturbating. Jenny, I was sure, had set me up, leaving the trapdoor open so I'd know just where to look for my "missing" wife. She'd even made sure the binoculars were within reach. Obviously, Jen wanted a ménage à trois. She'd probably wanted one since she'd first laid eyes on our nudist neighbor. I remembered Jen saying, the first time she'd seen Tammy, "She's quite beautiful. I can see what you see in her." Apparently, Jen hadn't been just speaking rhetorically. She'd meant what she'd said, and even though she'd made me promise to stop spying on our nudist neighbor, Jen herself apparently hadn't been able to get Tammy out of her own thoughts. No doubt about it, I told myself, as I sprinted into Tammy's backyard, returning the smiling women's welcoming waves, my wife wanted to participate with me in a ménage à trois with our neighbor. As my erect cock testified, I'd be more than happy to oblige her--and Tammy, too!