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After Cheryl’s Mexican adventure, she went back to her normal routine of occasional dates with her regular lovers. It was during this time that Cheryl dropped the Stockbroker from her rotation leaving her with only the Gym Guy to satisfy her sexual needs. Eventually, my wife met a man through her job, a client of her firm who she called the “L.A. Guy”, and after accepting his offer to buy her a drink after work, Cheryl ended up back at his hotel where they fucked for several hours before my wife said she had to get home. But with the L.A. Guy’s infrequent visits to the Bay Area, he did little to quench the fire that seemingly always burned between my wife’s legs.
It was almost six months following my wife’s forty-first birthday, however, she learned that she would be losing her job. The firm Cheryl worked for was being acquired and although this news was a bit of a shock, my job had been going very well and we could easily afford the loss of income. In fact, as I was consoling Cheryl about her job, I suggested that maybe she should just take some time off. And then, just like that, I hit upon the perfect suggestion. “You know how you always wanted to learn French? How about if you rent an apartment in Paris for a couple of months and take a French class? I’ll come over at the end of your stay and we can then travel around France for a couple of weeks.”
“Really! Are you serious?”, exclaimed Cheryl as her face lit up in excitement.
I was overjoyed to see my wife so thrilled with my idea as I said, “Yeah. I mean it. It would be fun.”
Cheryl leaned over to kiss me and she then jumped up, exclaiming, “Oh my God! This will be so fun! You’re the best Mike! I love you!”
That night we laid out rough plans for Cheryl’s trip, looking at various short-term apartment rentals along with scouring the internet for French language classes. And over the next week, we finalized all the details, arranging for Cheryl to rent a one-bedroom apartment for the duration of her visit and to take classes three days a week at a nearby language school. I arranged my visit to coincide with the final week of Cheryl’s apartment lease and we would then travel around France for a couple of weeks to take in the sights.
Over the next couple of months, Cheryl busied herself with planning for her trip to Paris. My wife was like a kid at Christmas as she was giddy with excitement and she packed and repacked her suitcase numerous times as she deliberated on what to bring. Seeing my wife so enthusiastic and eager for her trip thrilled me and I had to admit, the prospect of living in Paris seemed to have given Cheryl a zest for life that I hadn’t seen in some time. All during this time, however, neither Cheryl nor I mentioned anything about her taking lovers while in Paris. I suppose, at some level, I knew my wife wouldn’t be satisfied with exploring Paris on her own and would endeavor to find one or more lovers to enhance her vacation. But we didn’t speak of that at all and it was only two weeks before Cheryl was to leave that I even mentioned the topic whatsoever.
Cheryl and I had planned a Saturday night at home, and we had enjoyed a bottle of wine and a wonderful pasta dinner and were lounging in the living room sipping a glass of cognac. My wife had dressed up for me and she was wearing a short black miniskirt, a soft angora sweater and had a pair of black high-heel pumps on her feet. As we chatted excitedly about Cheryl’s upcoming departure, I couldn’t help but lean over and give my wife a passionate French kiss, reveling in the sweet taste of her lips.
As it turned out, my wife’s newest lover, the L.A. Guy, was to be visiting the Bay Area on the two days before Cheryl was to depart for Paris and she wanted to spend those nights with him. Added to that, Cheryl had arranged two dates with the Gym Guy before she left and given her rule about no sex before a date, I was acutely aware that this might be my last chance to make love to Cheryl before she left for Paris. And so, as we kissed, I took the liberty of feeling my wife’s breasts through her sweater and within minutes, she pulled off her sweater and lay back on the couch and hiked up her skirt.
Seeing my wife laying back on the couch, her legs splayed open and her succulent pussy practically begging for attention had my dick rock hard and I hurriedly pulled off my pants and shirt. Cheryl looked like a dream come true and I took a moment to marvel at how incredibly lucky I was to have such a sexy wife. Cheryl kept her high heels on and although she routinely did this with other men, this was a rare treat for me as ran my hand up and down my dick a couple of time before laying on top of my wife and inserting my erection into her juicy slit. The velvet embrace of my wife’s pussy was electrifying and as I began to thrust in and out, I couldn’t help but immediately orgasm, my penis spurting and sputtering within seconds of entering my wife.
I couldn’t believe what little stamina I görükle escort had! I had been anticipating this potentially, last chance, opportunity to make love to my wife before she left, and I hadn’t even been able to last a minute! I began to apologize, whining, “I’m so sorry, Honey.”
Cheryl was quick to reply, cooing, “Don’t worry Mike. It’s okay”, while she held me tight running her hands over my back as my spent penis deflated in her pussy.
I was feeling extremely vulnerable at that moment and after apologizing a bit more, I stammered, “Uh, Sweetheart, I really hope you can find a lover in Paris. I want you to have the best trip ever.”
Cheryl started giggling as she continued running her hands over my back. She then sighed, “Yeah, I’d like that too. But how am I going to meet anyone?”
I took this opportunity to lift myself off my wife and I then knelt in front of the couch as Cheryl scooted up and sweetly looked down at me kneeling before her. I then said, “Honey, you’re the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world and you’ll have no problem meeting men in Paris. I just know you’ll have all sorts of guys wanting to go out with you. I want you to have the best trip ever and you deserve to have a lover, or maybe even more than one.”
When I had said my piece, Cheryl’s face lit up as she giggled, “You are a naughty husband. Maybe I will.”
My wife then sat back and pulled up her knees, placing her heels on the couch and revealing her pink pussy. “Baby, I didn’t get to come. Why don’t you lick me”, cooed my wife as I hesitatingly brought my mouth to her juicy slit.
Now, despite having cleaned my wife’s pussy after she’s been with other men literally hundreds of times, I’ve never really been keen on licking my wife when it’s my own come in her pussy. But, given my hair-trigger stamina and frequent inability to give Cheryl an orgasm from making love, I’ve been forced to overcome my reticence to cleanse my wife of my own sperm. And so, I quickly lapped up the large glob of semen seeping from Cheryl’s pussy before running my tongue between her fleshy lips to scour out the rest of my load. Cheryl was squirming around on the couch as I licked her pussy and she was moaning, “Oh God, yes. I need a sexy boyfriend in Paris.”
I kept up my oral ministrations for several minutes more while Cheryl was lost in her fantasies of enjoying a lusty, Parisian lover when suddenly she reached down and pushed my face into her pussy, crying out in orgasm as her pussy convulsed around my probing tongue.
That evening as we were lying in bed preparing to sleep, I reiterated my desire for Cheryl to take a lover, or lovers, while in Paris, telling her that she deserved to have her trip truly memorable. After that night we really didn’t discuss this topic again, but on Cheryl’s final night in the Bay Area, after I picked her up from the L.A. Guy’s hotel and we returned home, I repeated my declaration, telling my wife that I hoped she’d find a boyfriend in Paris.
As I was assuring my wife that she would have no problem seducing men in Paris, just as she did in the U.S., I was simultaneously moving down to bury my tongue in her pussy to scour out the L.A. Guy’s sticky load. And as I eagerly licked and sucked Cheryl’s sopping opening, she cooed, “Oh yeah, Mike. That feels so good. Make sure you get it all.”
Anxious to please my wife, I enthusiastically sucked her well fucked pussy making sure that not a single drop of her lover’s come remained. Cheryl loved my fervent oral attentions and she began to moan, “Oh…, that’s so nice. I hope we can do this in Paris, too.” Hearing these words, I redoubled my efforts and my wife was soon crying out in orgasm as I flicked my tongue over her clit.
Later, after Cheryl had recovered from her climax, she treated me to an exquisite handjob and as she skillfully manipulated my dick with her right hand, she teased me about how much fun it would be to act as if she was single while she was away, screwing a variety of hot studs. My wife’s deft handling of my penis, coupled with her provocative banter soon had me ready to pop. And when Cheryl felt my balls tighten in anticipation of my orgasm, she hastily pulled her hand off my dick to avoid being soiled with my come and told me to finish myself off. Taking my dick in my hand, I furiously stroked my rod until I began spurting out my load. My climax was nothing short of fantastic and as I lay there, my breath coming in short gasps and my penis twitching in post-orgasmic bliss, I couldn’t help but profess my love for my wife, telling Cheryl that I loved her with all my heart.
That night I held my wife close and as morning dawned, I was still overwhelmed with love, anxious to savor every moment with Cheryl before I dropped her off at the airport later that afternoon. As it turned out, that day was a whirlwind of last-minute packing and by the time I dropped off Cheryl at the airport we were both exhausted. And as we said our goodbyes and kissed, Cheryl bursa merkez escort and I each affirmed our love for one another, and I was soon watching my wife make her way into the airport. I don’t even remember the drive back home but when I entered the house, I was struck by the emptiness I felt at knowing I wouldn’t see Cheryl for almost eight weeks. I busied myself around the house for a bit, putting away the clothes and shoes that my wife had left scattered around our room, before stretching out on the couch and attempting to read.
I lay there on the couch for quite some time vainly trying to concentrate on my book before I realized that I needed to do something to keep myself occupied otherwise I was going to yearn for Cheryl incessantly for the next two months. As I mulled over my options, I remembered how my wife had been recently complaining about our closet and how she could never find anything amongst her piles of clothes and shoes.
Then and there, I decided I was going to revamp our closet so that my wife had a space for her clothing that was appropriate for someone of her beauty and style. That evening I spent hours poring over websites relating to closets and came up with several great ideas. And after pondering the size and configuration of our closet from every angle, I decided that the best way to start would be for me to move my clothes to the hall closet and to devote the entire walk-in master closet to Cheryl. And when I had removed all my clothes, I then carefully sorted through Cheryl’s, placing everything on the floor of the bedroom. Once the closet was empty, I measured the space and wrote down everything with the intent of picking up supplies that weekend to build my wife’s dream closet.
The first couple of days without Cheryl were difficult as we had agreed we would talk only once a week with the first call coming three days after she arrived in Paris. To be sure, Cheryl sent me emails and texts, but they were generally brief. But when my wife called me early on the morning of her third day, I was overjoyed to hear her voice and I couldn’t help but immediately blurt out, “I love you! I miss you so much!”
Cheryl was also happy to speak with me and she returned my sentiments while also gushing about Paris. “It’s so beautiful here! The food is incredible! I love my apartment!”, exclaimed my wife as she was clearly taken with the City of Lights. We chatted for almost a half an hour before Cheryl said she had to go and after telling my wife I loved her, I then hung up the phone. Talking with Cheryl had been rejuvenating and that evening I penned an email telling my wife how much I loved her and how I had truly treasured our call.
I didn’t hear anything for a couple of days after my email but when I awoke on Saturday morning, I received a brief text from Cheryl telling me that she appreciated my email and wanted to let me know she was going out for a drink that night with a guy she had met at her language school. My wife then sent a follow up text with the message, “Wish me luck!”, along with a picture of her in front of a mirror dressed in her sexy XOXO jean skirt and jacket and a pair of black platform heels.
My dick was immediately at attention at this news and I had to fight the urge to take my erection in my hand and masturbate to the lovely picture on my phone. Instead, I merely replied, “Good luck, Sweetheart. You look beautiful!”, before heading out to the hardware store to pick out the materials for Cheryl’s new closet.
All that day, as I traipsed from store to store assembling the supplies I would need for Cheryl’s closet, I would flash on what my wife was up to. Although I had never been to Paris, I had seen enough pictures to imagine her sitting with her date at a café, sipping white wine as they flirted. Knowing my wife, if she liked the guy, she was not the type to cock-tease and before the night was over, he would undoubtedly be plunging his cock into her juicy pussy.
By the time I returned home with the supplies it was almost three-o-clock and it took all my willpower to keep from masturbating, but I had promised myself I would hold off until later that night. And so, I started in on my project, taping off the floor and double checking my measurements. In fact, I was fully engrossed in cutting the shelving I had purchased when the phone rang at around five-o-clock. And when I answered it, I was greeted with Cheryl’s voice cooing, “Hey, Baby. How are you doing?”
Hearing my wife’s voice was like music to my ears as I replied, “I’m good. But I thought you were on a date tonight?”
“I was. He just left”, breathed Cheryl as I pictured her lying in bed luxuriating in post-coital bliss.
I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Did you screw him?”
“Yeah, I did. It was really fun”, giggled my wife.
My dick was now rock hard as I declared, “Oh man, I wish I was there with you. Your pussy probably needs me to lick it right now, doesn’t it?”
Cheryl bursa sınırsız escort was getting into it as she teased in her sexiest girlish voice, “Oh yeah Baby, it does. My naughty little pussy needs some attention. It’s all wet and puffy after taking such a big, hard cock. I wish you could be here to kiss it and make it feel better.”
Only a moan escaped my lips as Cheryl continued, “Baby? Do you want to play with yourself while I tell you about my date?”
I didn’t have to be asked twice as I began to masturbate while Cheryl told me all about her date with the man who would be henceforth known as the “Italian Guy.” Given that these long distance calls were expensive, it was fortunate I didn’t last long and as my wife was telling me how the Italian Guy had fingered her asshole while she was giving him a blowjob, I began to come, spurting my load out onto the floor. And once I’d come and had thanked my wife for getting me off with her description of her date, Cheryl giggled, “No problem, Baby. Love you”, before hanging up the phone.
After cleaning my semen off the floor, I returned to my project and for the remainder of the evening I worked on my wife’s closet, only stopping briefly to eat a sandwich for dinner. And that night when I finally headed to bed, I lay there under the covers, carefully crafting an email to my beautiful wife, thanking her for her call earlier and telling her I loved her.
We repeated that same scenario several times over the next two weeks with Cheryl calling me after her dates with the Italian Guy. Alas, the Italian Guy eventually finished his French course and returned to Milan and so Cheryl was left without a lover. But instead of immediately filling the void with a new guy, Cheryl befriended two German girls who were also attending her language school. Both these girls were younger than my wife and they introduced Cheryl to the Parisian club scene.
Cheryl began going out dancing two or three nights a week with these girls and ended up hooking up with several different guys over the next few weeks. Each time, my wife would call me either late that night or the next day and describe her adventures while I masturbated. I would listen, enthralled, as Cheryl told me about her trysts with the “New York Lawyer”, the “Swedish Artist” and the “Australian Traveler”. However, of all the men my wife fucked, she hadn’t yet met the suave French lover that would sweep her off her feet.
Cheryl had been gone a little over four weeks when I finally finished remodeling her closet. If I do say so myself, I did an incredible job and it looked fantastic. On one wall I had built a series of shelves for Cheryl’s shoes and I arranged all her shoes by color and style. On the opposite wall, I placed a series of drawers for Cheryl’s lingerie along with rods to hang her dresses, tops and skirts. At the end of the closet I placed a large, full length mirror so that my wife could view herself while dressing. In addition, I replaced the previous nondescript ceiling light with a small crystal chandelier that lent an elegant look to the closet. And as I carefully placed the last of my wife’s clothes into her new closet, I couldn’t help but be proud of the work that I’d done for the woman I loved so much.
I still wasn’t sure what to do about the blank space on each side of the mirror, but for the most part everything was perfect. Cheryl had texted me earlier that day that she was going out dancing that evening and as I mused about what she might get up to, I finally realized that the blank space should be filled with photographs of my wife. And that night I spent hours poring through our photos to find several sexy pictures that would be suitable for framing, eventually deciding upon four that captured the essence of my wife’s beauty.
The first picture I chose was one I had taken soon after Cheryl and I had first started dating. Cheryl was wearing a sexy brown and white sundress along with a pair of tall wooden platform heels. What made this picture special to me, however, was that when I eventually learned of my wife’s infidelities, she had told me that this picture had been taken just moments before she had left to supposedly visit one of her girlfriends. The truth, as I was to learn, was that Cheryl had headed straight to her former boyfriend, Mark’s apartment where they had fucked themselves senseless for several hours. And when Cheryl confessed to her cheating, and told me this story, I had masturbated more than once to this picture, imagining Cheryl’s sexy wooden heels draped over Mark’s broad shoulders.
The next picture was one that showed Cheryl dressed in a short black skirt, a tight shimmery blue top and tall, black spike heel pumps. This picture was taken before my wife left for a date with a muscular black stud that she referred to as “The Black Cop.” What made this picture special was not just my wife posing in her provocative attire, but the look of lusty anticipation on my wife’s face before she left to meet her lover. What I didn’t know at the time was that The Black Cop had invited a friend of his to share in my wife’s charms and she spent the evening sucking and fucking two well-endowed black policemen only returning to me in the wee hours of the morning.
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