A Colleague's Wife

Suddenly Ann's fingers went crazy again in her pussy as her father got on the phone. "I love you too, Dad," she said, and she tossed the phone on the bed, and went to town with both hands, for a good five or six minutes, before she had a rip roaring, mind altering orgasm, screaming to the high heavens.

Ann collapsed on the bed. The orgasm had clearly been the real thing. Jesus, I thought, I had just seen my Ann, naked, jill off to fruition. Holy shit. Once Ann recovered, she asked "How did I do? Did you like the scene?"

"I got so carried away, I thought you were really speaking to your Dad. You have incestuous desires for him, don't you? Wow. I've never seen anything even half that hot!" I said.

"Jason, get a grip. It's my character who has a thing for her Dad, not me. For me, the idea is gross!"

"Well you were totally convincing. I even thought that you were really on the phone! My God, Ann, what a great actress you are! You're not actually going to that on stage, are you?"

Ann was smiling. She was wearing the T shirt again, but she was of course nude underneath it, and I could see bits of her pussy as she sat on the bed, her legs still splayed. "So, you liked it? Do you think it's too much for the stage? Is it too, too outlandish? Too outré, as the French would say? The French should know."

"Ann, I loved it. I will never, ever forget this. I have never before been this hard," I said, gesturing towards the tent in my pants. "As for the stage, it's pushing the limits, that's for sure. Are you really okay doing this in front of a live audience?" I asked.

"I don't know. At first, I was sure I could not do this. I was going to turn down the part. It's asking a lot. Recently however, I've been practicing being an exhibitionist. I'm getting more into my character in the play. I'm beginning to understand her need for exhibitionism. I'm gradually becoming my character."

Ann continued, "That's why I'm practicing being an exhibitionist. I'm trying really hard to get into this woman's character. I did not tell you this, but in this scene, my character

Suzanne knows her voyeur, James, is watching her. At this point in the play they've met. He has not yet confessed to watching her, and she has not confessed to putting on shows for him. What's interesting is that they both know the other knows. The play is full of intrigue. It's really beautifully written."

"Want to do one more scene?" Ann said, rather coquettishly. "In some sense, this one is the most outrageous of all!"

"Ann, your masturbation scene cannot be topped. You know you're supposed to cum within only 3 minutes, at the end," I said. I had just noticed that stage direction (a stage direction telling an actress to climax, and even when to climax. Imagine that!).

"I know; I'm working on that. I want it to be real; I don't want to fake it. Did it look real to you? The director says I can have some leeway in however long it takes, so long as I have an authentic climax," Ann asked, nervously.

"It did not just look real. I'm sure it was real. I know it was real," I said. "Nobody could have faked that." Ann smiled at me. Her smile just then melted me into a puddle on the floor.

Then it dawned on me. "The director is requiring you to have a real orgasm? While performing on stage? Night after night?" I asked, incredulous. Ann smiled at me, and she nodded. Her eyes were twinkling. There was much about Ann that I did not understand.

"I think it will be fun. Having you as the voyeur just now helped me to make it real. I wanted it to be real for you, Jason. Just for you," Ann said. This got me thinking, and thinking fast.

"One more scene, Jason, okay?" Ann asked. I nodded. "Okay, in this scene I am naked for a third time, but I pull down a shade, because my voyeur, you, is now in the apartment with me. The audience watches our shadows through the shade, which one can easily see through. At least it does provide some deniability."

"Deniability?" I asked.

"Yes. In this scene, Jason, we fuck."

"We do? You and me? For real?"

"For real," Ann said, and she paused. It was probably for effect. It had one, too. "The playwright wrote for us to simulate it, and I have tried to do it with the male lead. We're both naked, I'm on all fours, and he would pump his erect cock underneath me, not inside me, but everyone said it did not look real. We tried everything, and we continually failed. The director asked the playwright to drop the scene, but he or she refused."

"He or she? Who is the playwright?" I asked.

"Someone named J. Blaine. Nobody has met him or her except the director. Apparently, he is very secretive. Brilliant, obviously, but shy to a fault. Or for some reason, perhaps the inevitable notoriety this play will bring, he is a ghost. My guess is J. Blaine is not even his real name. Or her real name, but who knows? Anyway, the point is we have to do the scene."

"Is there a solution?" I asked.

"Yes, we found one in rehearsal a few days after my divorce. We decided to fuck for real." Ann let that sink in, watching my face closely.

"You fuck with the male lead? For real?" I dumbly repeated. "You're going to fuck him at every performance?"

Ann nodded, studying me intensely. "We'll fuck six nights a week, and twice on Sundays. We have not yet done it; I told the director I need time to come to terms with it. He's very understanding."

"This is theater in the extreme. You are some fantastic thespian, Ann! I'm impressed!" I said. My head was reeling.

Then it occurred to me. "The male lead will have to get an erection, on command, every night. Can he do that?"

"I wondered about that, too," Ann said. "He told me that he worked porn when he was younger, and he can still do most everything. He also said that I'm so sexy that it will never be a problem." Ann was giggling as she finished speaking.

I was thinking about how men who act in porn invariably have huge cocks. For some reason, I suddenly felt intimidated. I did not say anything about that, though. "Oh yes," Ann added. "He's disease free; the director made both of us have tests," and Ann giggled some more. "I am, too, of course. Also, I'm on the pill, so pregnancy is not an issue."

"I will have to practice fucking his understudy, too," Ann said. She was eerily calm as she spoke. "And now you and I are going to act out the scene. Can you do what is expected of you? Can you do your part? I brought some Viagra with me, in case you need it." As Ann spoke she slowly, tantalizingly slowly, pulled my T shirt off her luscious body.

"You said you have not done it yet, Ann," I said.

"I know, I'm terrified. There are things you do not know about me, Jason," Ann said.

"Tell me," I replied.

Ann stood still, her T shirt above her head, as if she were suddenly paralyzed. I enjoyed the view of her breasts and her pussy, while her head and her eyes were covered. She must have been lost in thought.

Ann came to a decision, pulled off the T shirt, stood there naked in front of me, giving me a full frontal, and she said, "Jason, I'm a virgin. My brother's bicycle bar took my hymen when I was 12, but I've never had sex. I've never even given a man a blowjob. Now do you understand?"

"You were married to Murray!" I said. "You cannot possibly be a virgin! You do know what the word means, right? I don't understand at all."

"We never did it. Murray and I could never, well, I can't really say it. I loved Murray, and he loved me, but let's just say we never expressed our love sexually. I'm not going to try to explain it. Let's leave it at that, okay?" Ann said. Her voice was trembling.

"Will you be my first, Jason? I need experience before I fuck with the male lead, and his understudy, don't you agree? And I want to get the experience with someone I trust. I want to get it with someone who cares for me. With someone I care for," Ann said. She was blushing as she spoke.

"Oh hell, Jason, I'll just say it. I want you to make love to me. Can you do that for me? I know you care for me. I also know however that you love Martha. She's with Steve, so she is taken. She's not an option for you, Jason, and you know that. Can you find it within your heart to do this for me?" Ann was holding back tears, I could tell.

"I know it's a lot to ask a person. Shit, if someone asked me this, I'd slap him hard, and storm out of the room. It must seem to you like this request it's coming out of the blue. I'm just hoping you care enough for me to help me out by making love with me. I feel horrible to ask such a thing of you," Ann continued. Now she was holding back tears. A single tear rolled down her beautiful cheek. I was incredulous.

I let Ann have a good cry. I held her as she cried. "All we have to do is to act out the scene. We'll do it the way the playwright wrote it. Do you want to read it first?" Ann said.

"There's no need," I said.

"I know," Ann said. "I've known from the start you wrote the play. You're a genius, Jason."

"What? How did you know?" I was shocked.

"Jason, maybe you do not remember, but a long time ago you advised me on how to pick a pseudonym. I remembered your advice. Apparently, you follow your own advice. Your grandmother's maiden name is Jane Blaine. I'm not a rocket scientist, but I can add 2+2," Ann said. "Now will you do the scene with me? For real? I'm dying, here."

"Yes. It will be easy, Ann. I love you, and I lust for you. I always have," I said.

I quickly read over the script. I did not need to, of course, but even I can forget what I wrote at times. I popped one of her Viagra pills. Why the fuck not? I got Ann my bathrobe and she put it on, then I left my apartment to go out to the hall. I rang the bell. Ann walked to the door, opened it, and said, "Hello James. What brings you by at this late hour?"

Reading from the script, I replied, "I had to see you, Suzanne. I was thinking about what you said in the café yesterday, and what you told me about your father. I think I can help."

Ann and I read through the lines, until we got to the point where Ann says, "I know how you can help, James. Undress, and put this on. I'll leave you alone to change." Ann gave me the T shirt, and she went into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later she re-entered the room, just as I was covering my own nudity with the T shirt.

Ann smiled, saying nothing. She led me behind the screen, pretending that the screen was obscuring us (but not by much) to the audience. She lifted the T shirt off me, dropped her robe so that she too was nude, and she took my cock into her mouth and sucked me until I was good and hard. "I'm not Murray's wife anymore, Jason" she whispered to me.

Whispering made it sort of conspiratorial. I suppose she was whispering because she was going off script. Her whispering, and telling me with the whisper that she no longer was committed to Murray, turned me on ferociously just then. Maybe she knew about my rule that wives of my colleagues were forbidden. Ann was no longer married. She was no longer forbidden. Shit, she was available! That dawned on me suddenly and for the first time.

Then, following the script, she got on the bed, on her hands and knees, and wiggled her bare ass. I looked at her ass, as it invited me to deflower her. I felt like this was not happening; I was in a dream. I behaved. I followed the script, kissing her ass, fondling her boobs that were dangling beneath her. I next entered her slowly, tentatively from behind. She felt wonderful.

My cock was buried in pure velvet heaven. I began slowly, gradually increasing the speed, just as the stage directions I myself had written, told me to do. I began to piston in and out, and Ann began to moan. (Moaning was not in the script, but I let it go. It should have been in the script!) I was thrilled that Ann was a natural moaner!

I listened to her moans, and inferred from them what she liked. The woman liked to be screwed. So that's exactly what I did. In this way, I was teasing her, even while I was fucking her. I would drive her to the edge, and then scale it back. I could feel her arousal building. Her breathing changed. It was building relentlessly. Her pussy was actually getting warmer, clutching my cock tighter.

I switched to a good old-fashioned piston motion. I held her sweet hips, to keep her in place. I loved the feel of the bare skin of her hips in my two hands. I kept at it, relentlessly fucking her for all I was worth. I put my heart into it. In truth, I could not have kept my heart out of it, had I tried. I had lusted for this sexpot for far too long!

When Ann climaxed, she was not at all subtle. That too was not in the script, but hell, maybe the playwright was wrong. It should have been in the script! Her noisy, loving climax, would make a perfect addition to the script. It was wonderful.

When we finished, I expected Ann to collapse onto the bed, to express her love for me, and to tell me she had never thought sex could be so very good. I expected her to tell me how she was so glad that she was finally deflowered, and glad that it was I who had had the pleasure of making a woman out of her. Then I thought she would kiss me all over. I hoped she would tell me she wanted more; that she wanted to do it again. None of that happened.

Instead, Ann quickly got up to a standing position, and recited her lines. I was destroyed that after such a fuck, a wondrous loving act of pure heavenly sex, she could manage to stay in character, but she did. What a woman! I recited my lines, too, and we ended the scene.

Only then did Ann flop onto her back on the bed, my cum dripping out of her pussy, her legs spread sexily apart, her boobs gently falling to her sides, and she said, "Oh Jason, that was wonderful. You were wonderful. For a time there, I thought you actually loved me. You were so sweet to say it, too. It put me at ease."

"I do love you, you moron," I said. I was already hard again, so I climbed up on top of her and I began to kiss her. She actually seemed surprised, but she returned the kiss, biting my lip in her enthusiasm and even drawing blood. I did not care. I kissed her body all over, emphasizing her boobs, leaving a tiny trail of blood on her body from my lips.

"You don't have to do this, Jason. The one time we made love is enough. You don't have to pretend now that you really do want me. I'm a big girl. It's okay," Ann said rapidly, in a nervous babble. I told her to shut up.

I was lying between her spread legs, and I began to poke at her pussy with my cock. "Put it inside me, lover. Let's make love. Strictly off script this time. Just you and me, okay?" Ann said. Who else had been there when we did it according to the script, I wondered? Was J. Blaine haunting us?

We made love twice more, trying out different positions. Ann spent the night. She called up her friend Sarah with whom she was staying, now that Murray had kicked her out, explaining she would not be home. I heard the 'hubba, hubba' over the phone from Sarah, and Ann giggled in reply. Then I heard Ann say, "Good guess, Sarah. See you tomorrow, okay?"

The next morning, after a lazy, good morning roll in the hay, Ann dropped another bombshell. She wanted to practice exhibitionist sex. I was not expecting that. She did not just want the risk of being caught, she actually wanted to have a real voyeur. "It's my last step towards getting into character, for the play," she said. "Will you help me? Martha is with Steve, so maybe, if you do not mind, once more...?"

I told Ann I loved her, not Martha. That was over. Ann replied, "Jason, you still love Martha. Martha still loves you. Steve is just a tool for Martha to get you back. She does not want you back until you get over me. All this is obvious to everyone, except, I guess, to you."

Ann continued, "You don't love me, Jason, you just want to lay me. You know that, I know that, and Martha knows that. Well, you're getting your wish, aren't you? And I'm asking you for another fuck, tonight, okay?"

I decided just to shut the fuck up. I nodded my assent.

Ann had rented a tiny apartment, since the divorce had left her without a place to stay. She had almost nothing in it, which is why she was staying with her friend Sarah. "I don't have curtains yet, and I've been practicing walking around topless inside it, especially at night, with all of my lights on. By now, I probably have a dedicated collection of voyeurs, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do. It's a near certainty, with your body and your boobs. You want to have sex in the window? Is that your idea?"

"Oooh, Mr. J. Blaine! Your mind is so deliciously naughty! No, that was not my idea, but to hell with my idea, let's do yours!" Ann's eyes were twinkling with mischief. She was not doing this reluctantly, because she felt she needed to, in order to understand her character in the play. No, she was doing this because she now was into it. Ann had herself become an exhibitionist. The play was just an excuse.

That night I went over to her apartment. She was completely dressed. Her dress was normal, not especially sexy. She had made us dinner. She served it with a tablecloth, cloth napkins, and two candles on the table. It was textbook romantic. I ate it up.

We cleared the table together, and following her instructions, I watched while she stood in the window, back to the glass. I stood in front of her and slowly undressed her, stopping to kiss her. Once she was naked, I turned her around. She was facing the window now, and I caressed her breasts and her nipples until they were hard. My hands drifted south.

My hands found her pussy of course, and I teased her sex without mercy. She began to groan. I kissed the back of her neck, where it meets her shoulder, while my fingers drove her nuts. "It's time, Jason," Ann finally said.

Ann climbed onto the table, making her entire body visible in profile in the window. She got on her hands and knees, her luscious boobs dangling underneath her. I undressed, and climbed up on the table to join her. It was a butcher-block table, with a chrome plated steel base, so it could hold us both quite easily.

"Fuck me, you bastard. Fuck me good. You've ruined me with your sexy play, and now ruin me with your goddam cock," Ann said. The anger, or contempt in her voice was a huge turn-on for me. "You'd fucking better put on a good show. We have quite the audience!" she said.

As I entered her, I saw she had her cell phone on the table. She had just got a text, and all it said was a number, "11." I learned later that she had enlisted a neighbor to count for her the number of people watching her display from across the way. Always an actress, she wanted to know the size of her audience, even as we made love (or in the words of Ann, 'fucked') on her butcher-block table, in the window.

I tried to give her a spectacular fuck. She tried to help me by moaning and saying things like, "Oh God, Jason, you are so good. You're running me for other men. Holy smokes, I love the way you fuck me. Just like that! Yes!" With Ann, I could not tell if it were real, or if she was acting, reciting lines she had written for herself in advance. You know what? I did not care. I chose to believe it was real, extemporaneous, and I fucked her for all I was worth.

When we were done, Ann said, "Let's do it again! I fed you ground up Viagra with your dinner. You should be good for it." Ann crawled over, and right there on the table, with my cum dripping from her wondrous pussy, she took my flaccid cock in her mouth.

My cock is rather long, so Ann could only get part of it in my mouth, but I did not care. She was trying hard to arouse me, and while she was a novice at blowjobs, they really are not that hard to master. Ann knew enough not to use her teeth, and also to pump me with her hands from time to time. I got hard quite quickly. Ann is a showman, so to speak. She wanted to swallow all of me. She kept trying, and she kept gagging. When I told her I did not care, she mumbled "Shush!" Ann changed the angle of her head. That was okay. It was advice she had read in Cosmopolitan, she told me later.