Tight Jeans Ch. 02

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Carl watches Melanie for the first time.
2.2k words
4.05
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/28/2022
Created 01/01/2015
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twatchman
twatchman
24 Followers

Some would say I should be proud that my bride was a good little Christian virgin on our wedding day. But for me there was down side to marrying a girl who was sure The Almighty insisted that she remain an unopened, pristine little package until she got herself a husband.

Melanie had been raised in a very religious household. The only reference to sex I ever heard from her parents was about our duty to give them grandchildren.

So the funny thing is that I first fell for Melanie at a college graduation party because the contours of her body captured my eye. She had on a black cocktail dress like the one most of the other girls were wearing--but those curves! That ass! Wow. Her face was almost plain--pretty in a modest, composed way. But men had to tear their eyes away from that body to look at her face.

When I talked to her that night, she was sweet and friendly--a good listener, even when I found myself telling her about my new job selling heavy construction equipment (instead of just hitting on her, which I very much wanted to do). But I couldn't help noticing that she seemed totally unconscious of all the male attention she drew the whole time we were talking.

Just a few weeks after I asked her out, I found myself slipping an engagement ring on her finger. We played a lot of tennis, watched sunsets together, and held hands all the time. But no sex, though when we kissed she did let me touch her breasts. Reverentially.

Our wedding night was a painful mess. In fact (don't laugh) Melanie bled so much that I rushed her to the emergency room because both of us were scared that she might hemorrhage to death. It was over a week before we tried sex again, and another month before she proudly presented me with her first prim orgasm. We were both relieved that her plumbing worked normally.

My wife wasn't the only girl I'd ever fucked, but she was my first and only virgin. Brenda, my previous girlfriend, had a very eager beaver nestled between her legs. I dumped her when she fucked another guy at a party. Later, when I began to feel like I'd married a borderline ice princess, I sometimes found myself pining for sex-machine Brenda.

But being a good wife really was as important to Melanie as having good sex was to me. So one time she actually went out and bought a little nightie you could almost see through. She blushed whenever I talked bluntly about sexual pleasure, but she tried her hardest not to cringe if I used a four-letter word.

Melanie never once tried to get me to attend services with her parents. She knew I wouldn't go near any church that talked about God toasting people for all eternity because they did something wrong. We knew we had few religious experiences in common, but eventually she told me she wanted to take our girls Tilly and Beth to another church I could tolerate because they openly accepted evolution and didn't preach Judgment Day. So I consented, and even went to services with them occasionally.

Meanwhile I obsessively looked for ways to coax my wife's animal side out of hiding. I often told Melanie that she had become more sexually attractive at 35 than she had been at 20. What I didn't tell her was how often I had begun to imagine her fucking other men. And my mind kept wandering back to that little black cocktail dress she had been wearing when I first spotted her, the one that had ended a good six inches above her knees to show off her curves and lovely legs. I mean, let's be honest, I told her: Hadn't she been secretly basking in all that male attention at that long-ago graduation party? The answer was no. When I came right out and asked her about that, Melanie told me she had borrowed that dress from a friend because she didn't have any party dresses of her own.

Fast forward to an occasion several months ago when Melanie happened to be wearing a pair of especially tight jeans. I overheard two of my friends swooning when they saw her bend over to pick something up. "Oh man, look at that ass," one of them said, "I'd love to peel those jeans off and nail that." When I told her what the guy had said, of course she had to take that "dirty talk" as a personal insult. She angrily told me I should have defended her honor. When I got mad right back and called her a tight-ass prude, she burst into tears and went to her new pastor's office to...what, tell on me? Seriously, that's what it seemed like she intended to do. Or to ask that he get down on his knees with her and pray that I be made a better person.

But something happened in that ministerial conference that aroused her physically. That was not surprising, actually; our new pastor Phil was a hunky young guy. Plenty of women in the congregation would have been very willing to explore heaven on earth with him. Melanie wouldn't admit that she was becoming one of them, but somehow that meeting definitely got her juices flowing.

That night I was amazed and totally turned on when I woke up hearing her call out Phil's name in her sleep. Oh yeah, my prim little wife had a dream about fucking the minister of her new church. My cock stiffened as I gently drew the details out of her. The more freely she talked, the more she confirmed—to both of us--how exciting it had been to have Phil fuck her in the dream. We kept waking up to explore that dream together while we fucked.

In the morning, Melanie tried to downplay her nocturnal surrender to lustful phantasies. I was having none of that good girl stuff. "Oh, so you think Satan invaded your head with nasty dreams?" I teased her. "If it was demonic possession, I want to hire some of those demons." She flashed me a little smile, but quickly changed the subject.

Something told me to shut up right then. By some miracle my wife had let herself explore an unfamiliar raw sexual appetite. She would continue to do that only if she made the choice herself. And to put it mildly, she already was a changed woman. I was overjoyed that our sex life could be ignited like that.

Meanwhile, I had done some business-plan consulting for a swimming pool contractor who was repaying me by installing a pool in our backyard in time for one of the hottest summers on record. Our daughters and their friends had inaugurated the pool for a solid week before they went off to summer camp.

I was amazed to see Melanie come home from the store one day to pose for me in her first-ever bikini. Then she segued right into telling me she had extended a dinner invitation to Pastor Phil to come over for a swim.

I said, "Tell him no sermons, okay?"

"Oh no, no sermons. "

"Is swimming why you invited him?"

She blushed, but said nothing.

A powerful feeling of jealousy surged through my brain—and an equally powerful surge of arousal. I could tell that Melanie was aware of my competing emotions, because her eyes first stared into mine and then traveled down to my groin. For the rest of that hot summer day we shuffled luxuriously between our new pool and our cushy new mats on the deck. We said very little to one another, but our silences were laden with sexual energy.

By evening the muggy mid-day temperature seemed not to have dropped at all. Phil was due at 8:00. Fifteen minutes before that, Melanie was still getting herself ready. I found her in the downstairs bathroom actually cupping her breasts and admiring them in the mirror. I watched until she acknowledged that I was there. "We're out of beer," I said. "I'll run down and get some."

"Okay," she said as she languorously turned my way, her hands still cupping her breasts. "But you know we have beer out in the garage fridge," she said.

"Not the kind I want," I answered. What I really wanted was to be out of the house when Phil arrived.

She looked into my eyes—reading my mind-- and said, "He'll be here any moment, Carl."

"You can entertain him until I get back," I replied.

"Do you want that?" Her question hovered in the air.

I had no doubt that we both understood exactly what "that" meant. I looked her up and down appreciatively. "You look perfect," I said, "and I love you."

"But you can tell me not to," she replied. "Aren't you jealous?"

"Yes I am."

"But you still want me to."

"Yes I do. "

"It's still hard to believe."

"Believe it. I've wanted that for a long time, baby. I just want you to tell me you're wet."

"Carl, I love you so much."

"Tell me."

"I'm very wet."

Thank you."

After I drove away from the house, I took my time coming back. When I cruised onto our street again, I saw Phil's car parked in front of the house. I coasted to the curb and got out of the car. I saw the patio lights go on in our back yard and heard their voices. Then the patio lights went out--and stayed out. I walked up to the gate and stood frozen, listening to their murmuring voices. Did I really want to see what was going on? As I slowly opened the gate I heard Phil's voice saying the same thing over and over: "I can't believe this. I just can't believe this." Then I heard Melanie murmur something unintelligible.

I slowly closed the gate behind me. When the motion-detector lights didn't go on, I realized that Melanie had turned them off on purpose, to avoid drawing neighbors' prying eyes. Suddenly I was trembling because I knew what I would see when I walked around to the deck.

I could barely make them out, naked on one of the sunbathing mats. He was all over her body with groping hands and eager kisses. Transfixed by a scene I had imagined many, many times, I watched her throw her legs wide open. Her hands stretched upward above her head in surrender as Phil mouthed her body downward to her vagina. Her hands caressed her breasts and pulled at her nipples as he gently tongued her labia. "Oh Phil, oh yes," she whispered . "Please just eat me." Suddenly Melanie took Phil's head in her hands and began to fuck his face, bucking her ass spasmodically as she pressed her clit into his mouth. When she began to come, she pressed both hands over her mouth to stifle herself.

I heard myself groan as I reached down for my hard cock. The sensation I felt watch the minister ministering cunnilingus on my wife was the most powerful I had ever experienced, a mixture of jealousy, lust and exhilaration.

Suddenly, as though afraid he might lose the chance to fuck her, Phil slid up her body and slammed his cock into her. "Oh my God," I heard him mumble. Then they were fucking wildly. They fucked for a long time. Their bodies were in constant motion through one orgasm after another for at least twenty minutes.

I wasn't sure they even knew I was there as I peeled off my clothes and crept toward them with my cock in my hand.

Finally Melanie looked up and watched me standing over them, stroking my cock. Her eyes fixed on mine as she wrapped her legs higher around his back.

I dropped down beside them and shoved my cock into her mouth. Phil rolled away quickly, giving me place to be the one fucking her.

When I entered her, my cock was suddenly swimming in semen. Then her cunt muscles tightened around my shaft. "Is this what you wanted," she said, "me as your whore?"

"I want it all," I said. "I want to hear you say you love being naked and doing all this."

"I love you so much for letting me."

"I want to eat your sloppy pussy before I come. I want to do you the way I saw Phil do you."

She just groaned in reply.

I pulled out and parted her legs to expose her glistening vulva. Then I touched her open pussy with the tip of my tongue. "Ask for it, ask for my mouth. Ask me to eat you."

"Yes."

"Ask Phil to watch."

"Yes, watch him eat me, Phil."

I never dreamed that I would ever get to hear her my Puritan little wife s blurt out words like that, or that I would ever feel her take my head in her hands and fuck my face with her sloppy cunt.

After having a three-way with your minister, you have to end up talking about what God thinks of doing that kind of thing, as the three of you lie naked on the deck in the middle of a hot night sipping your beer or iced tea. In our case there were no apologies; all three of us agreed it was a wonderful experience.

Maybe later you'll get to read Phil's account.

twatchman
twatchman
24 Followers
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46 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous3 months ago

If all you got is creepy slimeball characters, don't write

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

Another wussy husband and whore wife,all these stores are the same 👎👎👎

26thNC26thNCover 5 years ago
She is

Melanie is a whore. Carl is a cuck. Phil is going to hell, along with this story.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
Not Likely

You don't have time in hell to write.

honeylicker1124honeylicker1124over 8 years ago
Both chapters were much too short, and could have been developed more.

But first of all, I must clear up a completely wrong conception you have. You said "about God toasting people for all eternity because they did something wrong." All people have done "something wrong" so nobody could go to heaven. God sends a person to hell for refusing to accept His grace and mercy through Jesus Christ. It has nothing to do with what we do, but what He has already done.

Now, that said, I would like to see Phil's account in Ch. 03, then continue on with Melanie loosening up with her sexuality and wardrobe, so that she becomes a changed woman. For the plot, and imagery, 5 *'s.

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Tight Jeans Previous Part
Tight Jeans Series Info

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