The Bellman

Last weekend, Patrick and I decided we'd seen enough of Dallas, and took off for Houston. It was a great trip down, with me giving my loving husband many opportunities to watch as I flirted outrageously with every male we encountered over the two hundred mile trip. I wore my white sun dress, nothing underneath. Whenever we stopped, and I got out of the car, everyone could plainly make out my naked form. My brownish nipples were hard, (as usual) and if the size wasn't enough to call attention to them, the fact that the two brown circles adorning my breasts were visible through the dress certainly did! Of course, you could easily make out my pussy as well. Sometimes I shave it bare, but lately, I've settled for a very short, manicured look. Still, trimmed or not, it was clearly visible. As I walked in high heel sandals, with straps going four inches up my leg, visions of sex slaves quickly came to mind.

As if all this wasn't sexy enough, I kept unbuttoning the top of my dress as we drove, allowing my magnificent breasts to be exposed. My husband enjoyed the view of these two luscious mounds, but then, so did the truckers who kept passing us on I-45. When I pointed out to him that other men were looking at my breasts, he only smiled...and lifted the hem of my dress to expose more of my long tanned legs! Most of the trip, the hem of my dress wasn't more than an inch away from the bottom of my pussy, and for parts of the trip, it wasn't that far! I lost track of how many truckers got a glimpse of my pussy and tits. But I can tell you this...a lot of guys didn't keep their hands on the steering wheel as they drove the Interstate. Patrick says I should be listed as a road hazard, you know...soft shoulders...dangerous curves!.

We got to Houston, my pussy aching. I had begged him to pull over and fuck me a little as we drove, but the most he would do was play with my exposed pussy, usually when we passed an eighteen wheeler. Just when I thought I'd get to come, he'd stop, and adjust the radio, or light a cigarette. Anything but finish me off. Then, a few miles later, he'd start again, first a gentle rub...then the penetrating of his fingers. But he never let me come, though he did comment that he saw a trucker or two that he wouldn't mind letting fuck me. I never had a chance. By the time we reached Houston, I was horny enough to fuck the bell boy in the elevator!

After checking into the hotel, and getting to our room, Patrick sent the bell boy (the same one I'd thought about fucking in the elevator) to get us a newspaper. While he was gone, Patrick started a shower. I watched as he stripped off his clothes and as he turned to go into the bathroom, I stopped him.

"That's such a lovely cock," I said as I stroked it "You wouldn't mind if I just had a taste, would you?" With that, I sank to my knees, and took him into my mouth! Now if there's one thing I do better than fucking, it's cock sucking! As I coated my husband's hardened dick with my spit, he slowly unbuttoned my dress, allowing my braless tits to spill out. As my mouth went up and down his cock, my hard little nips brushed against his leg. I knew he wouldn't last long. As I swallowed the cock I loved best, his hands held my head still as he fucked my mouth like he usually fucks my pussy. In and out, gentle, yet firmly, first slowly, than faster, and then slow again, I prepared for what I knew would soon come; and come in my mouth. I fiercely desired the feel of his cock spurting hot cream all over my face, my breasts, and of course, down my throat!

But that wasn't to be the case right then. A knock on the door told me the bell boy was back with the paper. With a twinkle in his eyes, Patrick pulled his cock from my mouth and asked, "You want to answer it, or shall I?"

Before I could answer, he lifted my to my feet, turned me toward the door, and swatted my bottom. I guess he wanted me to get the door. He watched as his wife, her dress opened to her waist, her firm 38DD tits plainly outside the confines of the dress, my nipples hard as .38 bullets Opened the door, and faced the young bell boy. In my sweetest manner, I took the paper, and left the door open as I turned to pick up my purse. As the bell boy looked in the room, he could clearly see Patrick standing there, his cock rock hard, still wet with the juices from my mouth. I made no effort to hurry, in fact, after I looked inside my purse, I set it down, walked over to Patrick's pants, which were bunched around his feet, and withdrew his billfold.

Extracting a five dollar bill, I replaced his wallet, and started back to the door, but not before giving his still erect cock a playful squeeze as the now tranced like bell boy stood in the doorway, his mouth agape, and a quick check at his trousers told me he was more than just spell-bound. He was sporting a very visible hard-on. I turned my attention back to my husband...and my husband's hard cock. But I didn't want Patrick to come right then, not in front of the bell boy. I fondled and jerked Patrick's rock-hard dick, slowly...deliberately...all the time watching the boy in the doorway...watching him...watching him watch me! Finally, as Patrick was reaching the point of no return, I stopped. Without losing eye contact with my bell boy (I was already thinking of him as "mine.") I began a slow and seductive sashay toward the door. His mouth was open, and the expression on his face belied any confidence he was trying to project.

When I reached him, I held up the five dollar bill. "Sorry for the delay. I just can't pass a hard cock without touching it. I hope you understand." With that, I reached down and touched the frozen stranger between his legs. My hand, flat against his fly, curved under and between his legs. I knew he was powerless against my seduction. I could tell be the way his eyes glazed over as I fondled his love tool that he was prepared to come in my hand...in or outside his pants! I love to make a man come in his pants. It's such a power trip for me. . After six or eight strokes, I stopped, placing my hand on my left breast instead...stroking myself...touching my hardened nipple and never...never breaking the contact between out eyes. The poor boy never saw my right hand reach for the door and close it in his face. I think perhaps he must have stood there for minutes after the door closed...after the show was over...not sure what to expect next...not sure if he was expected to leave or wait. Young men are so easily confused. My last words to him were...:"perhaps you could bring me another paper later tonight."

After the door was closed, I turned to Patrick. His erection was even more demanding after witnessing my shameless display with the bell boy. "Go take your shower, baby. It's going to be a long, hot night!"

I wanted to fuck him right then, more than I'd wanted to all day! But a girl can't appear too easy . I stood with my back against the door, and continued to unbutton my dress, as Patrick watched, inch by inch, button by button, my hot, firm body became more and more visible. My hand found my pussy, and as he watched me, almost as if he wasn't in the room, I slipped my middle finger inside my pussy, all the way to the second joint. Breathing erratically by now, I looked my husband in the eye. I could see he was getting hotter and hotter. He watched as his wife finger fucked herself in front of him.

And then, as if wakened from a stupor, he began to walk toward me. I reacted immediately.

"No! Stop. I'm soooooo hot, Patrick! And I want you to fuck me...but not now. Go take your shower, and take care of that boner yourself. I'll get the next one."

"Are you sure?" he asked?

"No, but that's what we're going to do. Now go on. Get in the bathroom. And close the door behind you. As he closed the door, he could hear me beginning to moan. He knows how I sound when I'm coming, and right now he could hear mye orgasm begin. I came hard, and he could hear what I was saying as I came. He heard me cry out that I wanted a cock...any cock...his...or maybe the bell boy...or maybe, yeah, maybe one of those truckers who'd seen my pussy on I-45 just a few hours ago. But mostly, I was thinking of Patrick, of his hard cock...of his soft mouth...of his incredible tongue on my clit. "Oh, yeah, baby. I need your dick. I need your cum. Oh, yeah. Oh...Oh...baby! I need a hot dick."

I needed a cock..a hard...hot...cock! And in the condition I was in, it didn't need to be his. It could have been anybody's. Or it could have been everybody's! As I continued to come, I was certain that on the other side of that door, my husband was listening to me...listening to me moan in need of a cock...and I'm sure he had already reached down and had begun to stroke his own cock, but this time, there would be no teasing. He listened through the door as my words settled on him. "Oh, yeah! Fuck! Yeah, stick it in me! Make me cry, baby...make me cry!"

And as I gave over to the tidal wave of my self-induced orgasm, he gave over to his as well. He could hear me as I could hear him. I'd moved to just the other side of the door. And as we both masturbated ourselves to a full succulent climax, we both could mentally see the other, hear the other. There was no mistaking what he was doing, nor what I was doing as well! We both came, together, apart, by our own hands.

"Baby?" I said to him through the door my voice still shaky from my recent come..

"Yeah?" he answered me, his voice equally weak..

"I want to take off all my clothes and dance naked for you. Can I? Please?"

"I thought you wanted to go out?"

"I meant while we are out!" I replied. And I came again! But that's another story. And I'll save it for another time.

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