11 comments/ 25222 views/ 12 favorites The Artist's Wife By: luke90210 When I was a junior in college I did an internship with a software company, and after I graduated in 2003 they offered me a job as a programmer. I pieced together my new life in Chicago over Craig's List: apartment, furniture, car, etc. In my free time I'm a pretty versatile musician—I had been in some bands in college, but I never let myself get too committed out of fear that I'd neglect school. Now that school was done, I was ready to do it right. Piano is my best instrument, but I wanted to get into a serious rock band. So I advertised myself as a bassist (also on Craig's List) and got about a half dozen calls within the first week. In all honesty, I'm really gifted when it comes to music. I know theory, can read music, and can jam in just about any style on multiple instruments, so it was never a question of who was going to pick me. I auditioned with four of the bands who had contacted me, and ended up joining one call Schwa. They hadn't played out yet, but they had about a set and a half of really great songs. They had been rehearsing together for about nine months when they lost their original bass player, who moved to New York to get married. I had great musical chemistry with the guys in the band. The only thing that concerned me was that they had all been friends since grade school, including the prodigal bass player, and I didn't want to be the odd man out. I didn't want to spend hours listening to them reminisce about people I didn't know and shit they had done together that I hadn't been a part of. But it became clear pretty quickly that they wanted to avoid that too, so my solid musical relationship with them turned easily into solid friendships as well. Brett was the drummer. He loved playing in crazy time signatures with a double bass pedal—he was a drum jock, in short, and a damn good one. He was also a digital illustrator for a gaming company, so we had computers in common off the bat. Jake was the guitar player, and a librarian by day. He was one of those quiet dudes who had built a shelf from 2x4s across an entire wall of his apartment to house his collection of rare vinyl. He gravitated toward jazz, and toward virtuoso guitarists like Joe Satriani and Jeff Beck, but he was also perfectly happy playing the kind of alternative/hardcore mash rock we turned out. Dave was the front man and rhythm guitarist. He had a personality that just drew you in. He was handsome, smart, funny, and lived off a trust fund, but he was such a cool guy that nobody hated him for his good fortune. His dad was the vice president of rape and pillage for some big Wall Street bank, so he was set for life. He had the time and money to pursue various esoteric hobbies, the main one being filmmaking. He was really into obscure, Eastern European shit, and had made some shorts of his own that had played at festivals in New York, Amsterdam, and Prague. When it came down to it, Dave considered himself more of a filmmaker than a musician. He would bring me and Jake to see this completely incomprehensible art house stuff, and then could talk for an hour afterwards about the genius of this cut and that angle. I didn't get much of it, but again, people loved to listen to Dave talking about his passions. He could easily have been an actor or comedian, and was fantastic on stage. Schwa was a great musical unit with solid songs and good technical ability, but I have no doubt that a huge part of the modest success we would go on to enjoy was due to Dave's charm. We were all single when I joined the band, and once we started generating some buzz none of us had any problem getting laid. Young men plus big city plus and rock and roll translated quickly into a lot of whoring around. We would have these conversations in which we would recount our prodigious exploits, which was of course a lot of fun. But now, years later, I realize that what we were also doing was checking in with one another to make sure that none of us was thinking about getting serious with any particular girl and diverting attention away from what really mattered, which was the band. We were all having a great time, and like all great things when you're young, you fool yourself into thinking it will last forever. About a year and a half after I joined Schwa, Dave met Anna. She was a couple years older than him. She had her MFA and was an instructor at the Art Institute school. There was no mystery as to the attraction. Besides her considerable intellectual and artistic charms, she was also a knockout as far as I was concerned: reddish-brown wavy hair, big green eyes, full lips, and pale, almost translucent skin. I say "as far as I'm concerned" because she was also curvy—too curvy for Brett's taste. Brett was into tall blonde waifs—a "type" that has always baffled me. We would have those disrespectful conversations guys have about their buddies' girlfriends, and Brett always referred to Anna as chubby. I didn't consider her chubby. But whether she was or not was beside the point, because she was just sexy as hell. Before the veil of privacy descended when they officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, the stories Dave would tell about fucking her would make my mouth water. Anna was adventurous. Once they were walking around downtown before a seminar she had to teach and she took him into the cathedral during the noon mass (they had both been raised Catholic) and gave him a handjob in one of the pews, with just her windbreaker covering it up. She would also buy him porn and watch it with him, just to make sure there wasn't anything she was missing in terms of state-of-the-art depravity. She was short, no more than 5'2", and had wide hips but great legs. But the piece de resistance was her big, gorgeous, natural tits. They tormented me. Three months after Dave and Anna started dating, we all ended up at a party one night after a show. I was pretty drunk, standing in a corner reading a text from a girl named Michelle I had met at the bar. She had texted to ask for the address of the party. I was replying when Anna walked over and started teasing me about her. Michelle was dumb and hot: high leather boots, fishnet thigh-highs, skirt that barely covered her ass, the whole nine. In short, she was no candidate for girlfriend. I don't even remember exactly what Anna was saying, but at one point I had that mortifying realization that I was staring directly at her cleavage. It was August in Chicago, and she was wearing a short skirt, a tight blue tank top, and those high wedge sandals that still failed to make her look much taller. When I finally looked up into her eyes, she arched an eyebrow and gave me a playful little slap across the cheek. Guys on the street must have stared at Anna's cleavage a thousand times a day, but you don't want your buddy's girlfriend to think of you as a letch—or not purely as a letch anyway. That night I fucked Michelle like a depraved Roman emperor, thinking the whole time about how I would rather be fucking Anna. I was a little bit in love with her, there was no use denying it. But she was Dave's girl and I harbored no illusions. I contented myself with fantasizing about her. Ninety-five percent of the time I jerked off, I thought about Anna. My top fantasy involved me lying down with my head in her lap, sucking her tits while she slowly jerked me off. I dreamed of how those beautiful tits would feel against my tongue and my cock. I found a couple of clips on porn sites where the chicks looked sort of like her and watched them over and over. It looks kind of obsessive now that I see it in black and white, but after a while my obsession it calmed down to nothing more than a typical case of unrequited lust. Six months after they met, Dave and Anna went for a long weekend to Vegas and came back married. I remember the gasp of horror in our practice space the night Dave told us. Every rock band is haunted by the ghost of Yoko Ono, and Brett and Jake clearly thought that the death knell had sounded for Schwa. To me, it was just one more piece of proof that I would never have Anna, which was never really in doubt in the first place. So I sucked it up and was the first to congratulate Dave. Then Brett and Jake unconvincingly followed my lead. Dave just laughed at all of us and promised it wasn't going to change anything with the band. And strangely enough he was right. The three of us kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. Practice went on as usual, shows were booked more and more frequently, and our first CD was recorded, mixed, and mastered according to schedule, which is something that almost never happens regardless of the marital status of the band members. Really the only thing that changed was that we were no longer treated to stories of Dave's sexual exploits, which had been by far the most entertaining. They each had their own lives, and neither tried to rein in the other. It was just one more thing for me to be secretly jealous of. About a year after they had been married, we booked a big show at the Metro to coincide with Dave's 25th birthday. It was a Saturday, and the morning of the show I had gone into work for a couple of hours to finish up some code. Around 11 my phone rang. "Hello doll," Anna said, which is what she had called me ever since she had caught me staring at her chest. It was kind of cool and kind of heart-wrenching at the same time. Of the three of us in the band who were not Dave, I was closest to her. We probably could have become real friends had it not been for the fact that I tried to keep some distance. The closer we got, the greater the chance I would fuck something up either intentionally or unintentionally. "What's up baby?" "I got Dave that vintage tube amp and cabinet you suggested for his birthday." "That's awesome. He's going to love it. You're the best wife ever" "Of course I am. And I want him to use it tonight at the show. Can you and the guys come by at 6 tonight and pick it up in the van? It's hidden in the garage, and that's the only time I can get him out of the condo for long enough." Getting Brett and Jake together in the van three hours before we had to load in was going to be a serious challenge, and I told her so. "Come on, it's for Dave!" she said. "I know you can work it out with him, darling." So of course, I did. When I knocked on the door at six, I was ill-prepared for what greeted me. Anna was wearing a thin black cotton nightie, made of what looked like t-shirt material that hugged her figure perfectly. It was very simple and went down just below her knees, with spaghetti straps and none of that frilly bullshit that I hate. The only jewelry she had on were her wedding and engagement rings and a somewhat prominent cross necklace, which was kind of weird because she wasn't a practicing Catholic (as the pew handjob might have suggested). She wasn't wearing a bra, and I know that I failed miserably to honor my pledge to never gawk at her tits again. "Just on time!" she said excitedly. "Are you about to turn in?" I joked, following her into the apartment. "No," she said casually, "but my rock star husband likes me in this, and it's his birthdayl. You like?" she smiled, spinning around like a model. "I like," I said, giving up hope that my hard-on would go unnoticed. She peered behind me with a worried look. "Where are the boys?" "Down in the alley, trying to maneuver into a parking spot near the garage. Your alley sucks for loading gear, you know that?" "Tell them to park and come up quick," she said. "You have your phone?" "Yeah, I have it. What's the deal? Aren't we supposed to load the amp?" "Slight change of plans. Go on, call them." Brett bitched when I told him to find a legal parking spot and come up, especially since I couldn't tell him why. When I hung up I walked through the dining room on the way to the living room and saw a box with a big bow on it sitting on the table. "What's that? Dave gets two big presents?" I said. Anna had gone down their long hallway and into the living room. When I walked in, she was standing back and looking at the couch like it was an installation she had to grade. "Uh-huh," she mumbled absently. She was so fucking hot. Her boobs hung exquisitely in the hammock of her nightie. They were the most perfect tits I had ever seen. "Sit down on the couch a second, will you?" she said. "No, all the way to the left." When I had sat where she wanted me to sit, she went over to the blinds and opened them a little wider to let in some more light. "There," she said, "I think that's perfect." "For what?" The doorbell rang and she ran down the long hallway to answer it, her tits bouncing maddeningly away from me. "What the fuck Anna?" I heard Brett say peevishly as she let him in. "Just settle down and go join your bass player on the couch. Brett, you sit in the middle. Jake, you on the end." They must have just stood there looking at her, because I heard her say, "Guys, please? This is for Dave." When they walked in Jake held out his hands in the universal gesture for "what the fuck, dude?" to which I just shrugged. They sat down as they had been ordered. When we were all comfortable, Brett said, "Some kind of surprise party or something? Should we smoke a bowl?" Just then I heard a key in the lock. "Hey baby," We heard Dave say, "they hadn't heard of the wine you wrote down. Are you sure—whoa! I love you in that! And that." "I know you do," Anna said softly. There was the unmistakable sound of groping, which made my guts squirm a little. It went on for about twenty seconds before I heard them both giggling. "And what's this?" Dave said, "Is this my big present?" "That's part of it. Open it." There was the sounding of tearing gift wrap. "Whoa! A Chinon with a mic... and a projector? Where the hell did you find this?" "You like it?" "Are you serious? It's amazing. Come over here." "Not right now. You have to get the rest of your present. No, wait, bring that." When she led him into the living room, Dave was carrying a vintage super 8 camera and looking confused. "Dudes," he said, "what's up?" Then he looked at Anna. "So... You got me a band for my birthday?" he joked. "That's great, but I already have one." It was the first time I had ever seen Anna look nervous. She was shaking a little, but she stood back and put her hands together like she was about to deliver a prepared speech—which she was. "OK, start filming me," she said. Dave looked even more confused. "Baby, just do it." So Dave stood back, picked up the camera, and started filming. "Being artists yourselves," she began, breathing shallowly while the camera whirred at her, "you all understand the value of improvisation, which is why I brought you here without explaining why." Her voice caught a little, and she cleared her throat. "I know we all agree that Dave is one of the greatest guys who ever walked the earth—I know he's greatest the husband—and that's why I decided to give him something truly special for his birthday. You all know about Dave's love of film. As an art connoisseur, I can tell you that he has an incredible eye for finding the transcendent in the mundane. But the camera didn't seem like enough of a present for such a talented artist, so I asked myself, Why not give him a challenge too? Can he also find the beautiful in the perverse?" With that, Anna walked over to their lounge chair and grabbed a pillow off the seat. She threw it on the floor in front of Jake and kneeled down on it quickly. Then she undid his belt and started unzipping his jeans. All of our jaws dropped, including Dave's. He took his finger off the trigger and the camera whirred to a stop. Anna pulled a towel and a bottle of lubricant out from under the couch, but before she opened it, she turned toward Dave. "Baby, I know what you fantasize about. Trust me—you're going to want to get this on film." Words almost failed him. "But you said no way, that it was fine as a fantasy, but..." "I know I did. I had to in order to give you this moment. Now, we have lights and camera. The only thing missing is the action, right?" Dave smiled a mile wide and ran to the kitchen. He dragged a chair back across the floor and put it right next to the couch and sat down. He put the camera up to his face, covered his eye with the lense, and said, "OK then. Action." Anna finished unzipping Jake's jeans and reached inside the fly of his boxers. She pulled out his half-hard cock, then maneuvered to expose his balls. She squirted lube into her left hand and rubbed both hands together. Her tits wiggled a little as she did, and the cross dangled back in forth in her valley. With just two fingers she started rubbing Jake's nuts. For the first time I looked away from Anna at Jake. His eyes were closed and he had leaned his head back over the top of the couch. I was tempted to reach over Brett and slap him. You asshole, I thought, Anna has your nuts in her beautiful little hands, and you don't want to watch? To each his own, I figured. As Jake's cock got harder, Anna worked her way up. She went from massaging his balls with the tips of her fingers, to holding his sack in her right hand while rubbing her left thumb up and down the bottom of his shaft. Her nervousness faded; she was obviously in her element now, even if it was with a brand new dick in her hands. After a minute or two she uncupped his balls, put both her hands around Jake's cock, and just started pumping. It was like she had gone from the slow intro of a ballad into the raging attack, and Jake gasped, though he still didn't open his eyes. Dave stood up and wedged himself between Anna and Brett's legs. I wasn't sure what he was doing at first, but then I realized he was getting a close up shot of Anna's ring finger. "The golden wedding band," he said, "symbol of eternal fidelity, glistening with Ultraglide as my wife jerks off my friend Jake." He brought the shot up from Anna's hands and focused on her beautiful face. She smiled and batted her eyelashes. "Happy birthday baby. I love you." Dave stood back to get a wide shot, and Anna got back to work. She had been kneeling Japanese style, and now she got up on her knees. She cupped Jake's balls again in one hand and started pumping faster and faster with the other. When he started groaning, Anna said, "Jake. Jaa-key..." Jake had put both hands behind his head and looked kind of like he was napping in the sun. His eyes opened as if he were waking from a deep sleep and he looked at her through half-closed lids. All of us but Jake laughed. "Try to keep those hands where they are as long as you can, okay?" she said sweetly, as if she were actually asking him a favor. Jake nodded and closed his eyes again, and both of Anna's little white fists closed around his shaft and pumped steadily. A few seconds later, Jake groaned again and shot his load a foot straight up into the air. Four more spasms went airborne and splattered down on the front of his shirt, on his cock, and all over Anna's hands. She slowed down, but only for a couple of seconds. She turned toward Dave and shot him a devilish look. He practically jumped back to the other side of her and grabbed one of Jake's hands. "Brett, dude," he said, "grab his other wrist and hold it down. " "Dave loves this," Anna said to me and Brett, smiling. "But what he's really always wanted was to watch me do it to another guy." She proceeded to work the sensitive head of Jake's cock through the hole between her thumb and index finger—not too fast, but you could see she was holding him tight. Jake started bucking his hips and moaning, "Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuuuck!" The more he bucked and moaned, the more devilish became the grin on Anna's face. Dave wasn't missing a second of it on film, though it must have been hard to keep Jake restrained with one hand while keeping a steady shot of his wife torturing his best friend with the other. The Artist's Wife We could all tell Jake wasn't going to last much longer, so Anna grabbed onto his cock like it was a video game controller and started rubbing her thumb furiously around his tip. He gave a gasp of agony and broke free of Brett and Jake. Anna pushed herself out of his way as he reflexively jumped up from couch, panting like and animal and holding his hands over his cock in a protective gesture. "Oh, fuck, that was awesome!" Dave said. Jake still looked a little like a wounded animal, standing there panting with his pants around his ankles. But Anna pushed herself back onto her knees, picked up the towel, and cleaned the cum off of both of them, thoroughly and gently. When he was wiped off, Jake pulled his pants up and was about to sit down on the couch again when Dave said, "Dude, sit in this chair. I need to get in closer." Jake did as he was told, and Dave sat in his old place. Anna slid the pillow over and arranged herself between Brett's knees. His eyes were wide again and the purple tip of his cock was peeking above the waistband of his boxers. So much for your waifs, buddy, I thought as Anna began stroking the outline of his cock through the material of his shorts. He let out a gasp and Anna giggled, which was enough to send another shockwave through my body. My cock was so hard that it hurt. Every time I thought it couldn't possible get any harder, she would make some noise or turn her head a certain way, toss her hair back, wink at me, or give Dave an innocent smile, and another pint of blood rushed from head into my dick. She unbuttoned Brett all the way and pulled his boxers and his shorts off him, down over his shoes. She held his cock straight up and appraised it. It was average length, but was weirdly thick. "Hmm," Anna said, "maybe I should have switched you guys around." Then she plunged her mouth down over him. Brett moaned and his eyes rolled back. Dave shifted in his seat to capture some detail of the scene that must have caught his eye. Anna's head bobbed up and down a few times over about half his length, then she started descending a little farther, coming back up, and bobbing up and down again, from the farthest point she had reached all the way up to the tip. When she was about three quarters of the way down his shaft, she came back up, swirled her pink tongue around his head a few times, and then let a clear globule of saliva drip from her lips onto his cock. She slid her hand slowly up and down his shaft and shook her head. "Brett, seriously—how do those skinny little girls you always find have throats wide enough to get this down?" We all laughed again, Brett the loudest. He just shrugged and mumbled something incomprehensible. He was a funny guy, but he was in no condition to be clever right now. "Okay, stand up," Anna commanded, and he did. When she was up on her knees, Brett's dick was right about face level. She took a hair band from around her wrist and tied back her thick, wavy hair. Dave kneeled down next to her. He was wearing khaki colored pants, and I noticed a huge dark cum stain around his crotch. She took a breath, then took Brett's dick in her mouth again and pushed it all the way down her throat. With her lips pressed against his pubes, I saw through her cheeks the outline of her tongue wagging back and forth. She turned her head slightly toward Dave and his camera and must have given him a wink or something, because he smiled and shook his head incredulously. "God, I fucking love you," he said. Anna pulled out of the deep throat and started bobbing again. She started making these fantastic slurping noises, and long strings of cummy saliva dropped onto the floor and onto her chest. She took one of Brett's hands and put it on her head, obviously coaching him to be a little rougher with her. Whether he got distracted, or for some reason felt weird shoving Anna's face into his cock in front of Dave, he let his hand drop after a minute. She reached around and grabbed both of his ass cheeks, and he groaned again. I could see her dig her painted nails into the soft flesh as she rocked him back and forth into her mouth, faster and faster, her gorgeous chest heaving as she picked up speed. "Oh fuck, Anna, oh fuck!," Brett cried out, and he made a little attempt to pull back. But she pulled him closer and kept her lips clamped tightly around him. "Oh fuuuuck!" Brett said again with a guttural shout as his hips spasmed once, twice, and then a third time. Anna opened her mouth and tipped her head back a little, keeping a tight hold with her little hand on his thick rod. Cum spilled out of her mouth and down her cheeks and chin. It ran in slow little streams down her pale, alabaster throat and onto her tits, converging into the valley of her cleavage and soaking the material of her nightie. She gave Brett's cock another jerk, and he spurted another load, this time onto her lips, cheek, and over the bridge of her nose. I thought Brett was going to pass out, but Anna clamped down on his cock again and began sucking, turning her head from side to side like an animal ripping apart its prey. "Uh, uh, ughhhh!" Brett shrieked. He didn't withstand the torment as long as Jake, and he finally grabbed a clump of her hair and half pulled, half pushed her away from him. Anna fell back onto her hands, and there was a loud popping sound as his dick slid out of her mouth. "Oh Jesus!," Brett said, kneeling down after her, "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" "You should be sorry," she laughed. She took his hand and let him help her up, then playfully pushed him back on the couch. "I was trying to get you to slap me around, but you waited until I was done!" "Dude," Dave said, the film still rolling, "I've described this scene to her so many times while we're fucking, and I've always told her that you would be the one who wouldn't get freaked out by some rough stuff." "Which I definitely get into," Anna added. "Which she definitely gets into," Dave agreed. "Oh man, I feel like I disappointed you now," Brett said, crestfallen. "Dude," Dave said, "my wife is kneeling before you with her face covered in your jizz, and I'm filming it. There's been nothing disappointing about this." Brett laughed and nodded, though I could tell he felt like shit. No one ever wanted to disappoint Dave. But as Brett pulled his shorts on and made way for Dave (who, it was understood, needed to be next to the action to get the tight shots), all I could think of was the fact that they had talked about this while fucking, which meant I had been part of Anna's sex fantasies, however circuitous and indirect the route had been. Brett was supposed to be the guy who would slap her across the face with his half-limp dick and say, "You like that, you little whore? You want that harder, bitch?" Jake was supposed to be—well, who knew what Jake was supposed to be. A couple years after this happened, Jake came out of the closet to me shortly before he came out to the world. The first question I asked him after offering all of the perfunctory promises of support and continued friendship was about that night. He told me that when he closed his eyes he was picturing—who else?—Dave jerking him off. I told him I was offended. We had a good laugh about that. But the question was, Which guy was I supposed to be? I didn't have to wait long to find out. Anna picked up the towel and wiped the cum off her face. She was about to do the same to her chest, but then she looked at me a little slyly and put the towel down. She got up on her toes, slid the pillow in front of me, and nestled her hot little body between my knees. I was next. My head spun. Though I had fantasized about this moment a thousand times, my fantasy never included the full lineup of Schwa and a loud eight millimeter camera recording it all. But hey, this wasn't my fantasy we were acting out, and beggars can't be choosers. Anna slid her hands up my thighs with what I thought was more tenderness or seductiveness than she had shown with Brett and Jake, though that could have been my mind playing tricks. "Let's see what we have behind door number three," she said. I wasn't wearing any underwear, so when she undid my fly, my cock thwacked against my belly like a mousetrap. I was gratified to see her eyes widen for a second. I'm sort of the inverse of Brett in the cock department: I'm pretty long (close to nine inches), but unusually slender. Some chicks really dig it, others not so much. I think it's mainly an aesthetic thing. One plus is that I've had a lot of girls who have never done anal before ask me to fuck them in the ass. They think the fact that it's skinny will make it easier to take; I've never been sure whether that's true or not. I guess it depends on the girl. "Do you need some porn or something to turn you on?" she teased, laying the palm of her hand on my rock-hard dick. Dave hunkered down a little to the side of me and shot my cock directly while Anna slowly stroked me from the bottom of my sack up to the inflamed tip, lubricating her fingertips with the pool of precum that had collected on my abdomen. She had a light, almost playful touch that set my brain on fire with lust. "Beauuutiful," Dave whispered as she alternated hands, making sure to keep her rings prominent in the shot. Anna looked up at me again and said, "It will surprise you to learn that I didn't have to put too much thought into what I was going to do to you." I must have flushed, because she and Dave laughed. Not that I thought she wouldn't tell Dave about me ogling her tits, but it's the kind of open secret you don't refer to in polite company. Obviously this was no longer polite company, but it was still embarrassing. Fortunately, the thrill of her hand on my cock more than compensated for the meager embarrassment I felt at her allusion. "Do you mind if we use some of Brett's all-natural personal lubricant?" She grinned. She gave a quick look toward Dave, and I knew this was calculated to titillate him. It was probably an homage to some porno they had watched together: filthy slut uses gangbang dude #1's cum to jerk off gangbang dude #5. "I don't mind," I said, and I slid myself forward on the couch toward her chest. I lifted my cock straight up in the air with my thumb and pointed it at her. It was more initiative than Jake or Brett had taken. Her smile flattened out a little and grew thoughtful. For a split-second we stared into each other's eyes, and Anna gave me a look that said, I know you want me, but Dave is my guy. If the wind had blown a little differently that day and I had met you instead of him, things might have been different—but they didn't, and they aren't. We'll never be together like you want, but we have the unbelievable luck of sharing this moment, in all openness, honesty, and in full view of my husband and your friend, with no need for guilt or lying. And best of all, the less you hold back—the more you make this like the raunchiest fantasy of me you've ever had, the happier all three of us will be in the end. Of course, Anna wasn't communicating with me telepathically, and that was too long a message to convey in a split-second. But I figured that was the gist of what she and Dave were after, and I knew what I had to do in order to avoid regrets. Anna got up on her knees and slowly pulled the spaghetti straps off her shoulders. The material of her nightie clung to her skin where Brett's cum had plastered it. The cross even stuck to one spot for a moment before falling away again (I hoped Dave had managed to catch that). When she had pulled the whole thing down to her waist, she reached back up and took my cock in her hand. Her tits hung pendulously before me, so perfectly shaped that for a second I was afraid they were fake. But they were as real as you or me. They were pale—pale and beautiful, with a network of blue veins flowing below the surface. The natural light reflected off the little stream of cum that had run down her cleavage. I reached forward and grabbed a soft, warm, perfect breast in each hand, pulling them and her toward me, and resting them on either side of my hard-on. Anna smiled. She lifted the cross and chain up and wrapped it around my dick. She twisted it a little and the part of my shaft above the chain reddened. This elicited another "Beauuutiful from Dave." She laughed and pulled it off again, then pushed her tits together, trapping my cock between them. She twisted and turned until the sperm in her cleavage—and the clear liquid oozing steadily out of my own cock—had diffused into a perfectly lubricated tunnel. She made slow, small movements at first; she was afraid of getting me off too quickly. I thought back to the drunken night I had stared at her chest, and wondered if even then she had already begun planning this. I looked up and saw that her head was back and tilted to one side, a calmly ecstatic look on her face, like a saint in a Medieval church painting lifting her eyes toward heaven. I squeezed her tits again in my hands and started guiding her in bigger, faster motions. She was the one moaning now, in short little bursts I could tell she couldn't control. After a couple minutes of this I stood abruptly and pulled her up by the shoulders. There was a look of shock on her face, as if she had been jarred out of a daydream. I turned her around and laid her on the couch. Dave got out of the way quickly, like a professional documentary maker who wants his presence to be as unobtrusive as possible. After that I sort of lost track of him. I straddled Anna, sinking my right knee between her armpit and the back of the couch. She pushed her tits together to welcome me again. But instead I moved the tip of my cock to her mouth. I ran my finger up my shaft and expressed a teaspoon's worth of precum, which I rubbed into her lips with the head of my dick. She opened her mouth just a crack and slipped her tongue through. It was the most amazing thing I had ever felt. I grabbed a handful of her thick, beautiful hair and pulled her head up a few inches off the arm of the couch. "There we go," I said as I slipped my cock into her mouth. I felt her shudder, then move her hand under her nightie and begin to rub her clit. I squeezed her hair tight in my fist again and stopped for just a second to feel the power I had over her at that moment. She was breathing hard through her nose and I could feel her hand moving faster and faster on her pussy. I pushed my cock forward all the way—slowly, but there was no mistaking that I intended her to swallow the whole thing. I wasn't going to accept anything less than Brett had gotten, and I intended to get a whole lot more besides. Her eyes squinted as I passed the halfway mark, but she never gagged or made any move that suggested she wanted me to stop. When she had taken it all in I moved her head from side to side a little so I could really feel the tip of my prick against her throat—so that I would always remember what it felt like. Then I pulled out completely. The look on her face was pure disappointment, which was hugely gratifying to me. "Get down on your knees again Anna," I said, maneuvering off of her and standing in front of the couch. She practically fell down, so fast did she try to obey me. I rubbed my cock all over her face, squeezing as much pre-cum as I could onto her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids. Every few seconds she took the tip of my cock into her mouth and sucked it a few times before freeing me again to daub her face with my sperm. I still remember the feeling of the orgasm rising inside me. It was almost disappointing; I wanted this to go on and on, yet I knew it had to end for it to truly fulfill my fantasies. Anna had me in her mouth and was twirling her tongue around the head of my cock. I started moaning and fucking her mouth faster and faster. I grabbed a handful of hair, pulled her away, and exploded onto her face with the first two blasts. Then I pulled her violently up to her knees and shot three more hot ropes of cum onto those tits whose slave I was, yet which I had also finally mastered. When I had finished soaking her face and her chest with jizz, she sank back down and slowly licked my cock clean. She was fingering herself while she did it. That's when I became conscious of the camera whirring to a stop. Brett and Jake were both standing back and looking at me with horror, as if I had just cum on Dave's wife, but without Dave's permission. Dave lowered the camera. He just stood there for a moment and finally said, "Holy shit that was hot. Do I get a turn now?" Anna laughed. I noticed that she made no move to wipe off her face. "Nope," she said. "Time for you guys to load the van. If you play well tonight," she said, rubbing the wet spot on Dave's khakis, "you can come home and fuck me during our private screening." Anna excused herself to take a shower. While the three of us got dressed in silence, Dave talked about how much awesome footage he had gotten, and whether or not he was going to put a soundtrack to it. Brett and Jake loaded Dave's new amp into the van while Dave said goodbye to Anna up in their apartment. "That Dave sure knows how to throw a party," I heard Brett say. I was at the wheel, thinking. How was I going to deal with never getting to touch those tits ever again? Just then my phone buzzed, and I saw I had a text from Anna. "Greedy birthday boy wants you to come by after the show. Don't tell the others." I guess I wouldn't have to.