Shared Wife Annabelle: Nature's Game (Full Service Book 1) Page 18

  “And we want to pump it into your belly too – don’t worry about that,” Michael says, including Paul with a chuckle.

  “Yes – but you can’t…. I’m not allowed and it wouldn’t be safe for me anyway.” Annabelle licks the older man’s balls and kisses them, peering up at him watching. “Plus I didn’t know I was going to have to swallow yours as well…. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to my husband.”

  Michael shrugs. “Serves the guy right if he doesn’t satisfy you himself.”

  “Don’t say that,” Annabelle protests but has to squeeze her hand between her thighs again as the man’s words flutter in her belly. She kisses her way back up the underside of his cock. She takes the head into her mouth while gazing up at him.

  He touches the back of her head and holds her while slowly rocking forward. He does his snarling grin. “Yeah, the husband’s obviously not enough man for her eh, Paul?”

  Annabelle’s blush rises and she clamps her thighs tighter while her fingertips slip inside. She bobs back and forth, sucking the resurgent cock in her mouth.

  “I say he’s a good guy though – letting us play with his wife,” Paul tells his friend. “Maybe not quite man enough but…. Lucky us!”

  Michael chuckles, the hand on the back of Annabelle’s head relaxing and he strokes her hair. “I need an hour to build up again, okay?”

  Annabelle takes his fully erect cock from her mouth and squeezes against the flex of the shaft. She swallows and takes a breath. “Okay, but don’t make fun of my husband,” she utters and tilts beneath to kiss his balls again. She licks between and all around them, letting them roll over her nose and face while drawing the heady scent of such a mature man into her senses.

  Michael continues stroking her hair while she nuzzles and smooches. “Alright, no more making fun of your hubby, but only if you promise not to cross your legs at this bar we’re going to for lunch.”

  Annabelle glares up, stopping what she’s doing. “What bar?” Both men give a little chuckle. Paul takes her hand and helps her to stand. She pulls her bra down from where it’s still scrunched above her breasts and fixes it into place. “Well, is there a bathroom where I can freshen up and fix my makeup at least?”

  Paul puts an arm around her as they walk. She cuddles to his side and he lowers his arm and takes her hand again instead, keeping hold of it until they have traversed several long corridors and Michael ushers her towards a ladies room.

  Chapter 22

  Luke is sitting in Annabelle’s little Honda staring out at the calm blue ocean. He’s two hours from home, having gotten on the expressway south and driven in a daze all morning. He fights off the thought of his beautiful wife with the huge, muscular man pictured in his mind. He hasn’t been able to dispel the images of him enjoying the view up her tiny skirt and down her blouse – right there beside him in the car.

  Luke manages to stave off the churning in his gut long enough to force down a meat pie and can of lemonade for lunch. He then spins the car around and spends another two hours in a daze driving home.

  His heart is in his throat as he turns the corner into his street, but there is no car in his driveway. The next thing newly wrenching his gut is whether or not Annabelle is home. It’s almost three, and if she’s not already back she would be due anytime.

  Luke locks her car away and glares through the kitchen window as he approaches the back door. There’s no movement in the house that he can detect. The door is locked – his heart slipping from his throat with a pulse of relief. He doesn’t want his wife to still be with this other man, but facing her afterward is going to be even harder to take.

  The house is in silence. Luke walks to the sewing room and bedroom then checks to find the front door also still locked. He huffs a calming breath, his shoulders slumping, his heart rate slowing. He rushes back to the bedroom and finds the phone he had left behind that morning. There’s a text. His heart pounds in his chest again.

  Annabelle: Oh my god Luke. Everyone can see up my skirt.

  There’s a file attachment. Luke fumbles at the screen and opens an image of Annabelle sitting in a deep couch cuddled up to the man in Luke’s imagination. He has his arm around her and is grinning for the camera. His arm is massive – his bicep stretching his shirt sleeve. His other arm is resting across his lap, and with that hand he’s intertwining fingers with Annabelle. His other hand is wrapped around her hip with the tips of his fingers touching the exposed skin of her upper-thigh. Her knees are only slightly apart but the seat is low to the floor and there’s a full view of the white crotch of her panties. There’s a table with drinks and baskets of food in front, and the photo has been taken from the back of another couch opposite.

  The calculation that the friend of this big dude must be taking the photo throbs through Luke’s chest. He swipes the screen for another picture but there’s only the one. He expands it but that makes it too hard to see on the tiny screen. He emails it to himself and gets it up on his computer screen.

  Annabelle’s face is alight with a big toothy smile for the camera – seemingly oblivious to how this image is right then crushing Luke’s heart.

  Luke slumps back in his office chair gripping his hair. He takes a few deep breaths then suddenly thinks to check the time of the text. It’s registered at 1:15. “Two hours ago….” he mutters aloud. His anguish is subsiding now – the shock of the visual wearing off. He argues with himself that nothing in the photo shows anything other than what he was expecting to happen – other than the intertwined fingers, but he knows how his wife is. She’s always wanting to hold hands, cuddle and kiss. She’s very affectionate in that simple way and never waits for Luke to initiate that kind of intimacy. Seeing her giving that particular brand of sweetness to another man still hurts though.

  Luke checks the time again to see five minutes have passed. He leaves the computer on and strides back to the living room to peep through blinds and check the driveway. He slumps on the lounge and addresses his phone to type a message in reply. He stares at the screen, reading Annabelle’s message over and over.

  Luke: I love you baby.

  He clicks send and immediately wishes he could pull the message back, knowing he sounds desperate. And desperate is exactly how he feels. He gets up and checks the driveway again: Lunch was two hours ago and it’s only a one hour drive. The guy they’re with is probably only on a lunch break from his work. They should be back any minute.

  Luke has his phone clutched in his sweaty fist as he stands there staring at the driveway and street. He checks his phone again after a few minutes, unable to imagine why Annabelle wouldn’t at least text a reply: She must be sitting in the guy’s car with him driving. How could she not be able to text or just call?

  Luke stands there staring out the window for a long time before temporarily giving up and going to sit at the breakfast counter – his hands supporting his head as the image of them parked somewhere churns through his mind now. He can see the kissing and groping. He can see the guy fucking Annabelle in his back seat. He can’t stand the image any longer and kicks open the back door and storms into his garage. He has a speed ball and punching bag. He launches into the bag and thumps the hell out of it until he collapses exhausted on his back on the floor.

  Luke lies there for a while sucking in breaths and staring up at the exposed timber beams above him. His knuckles are stinging. They’re raw, speckling blood. He gets up and finds some rag to wrap them then he starts with the speed ball. Luke boxed all through school and won a few medals at state level competition. He imagines being able to actually handle a man almost twice his size and punches the fuck out of this lawyer dude in his imagination.

  Completely exhausted and somehow sated, Luke starts hitting pool balls around his table, planning to not even go inside when his wife does show up: He’ll be out here doing what he usually does most afternoons, not desperate at all.

  The distraction of the pool game lasts ten minutes or so. Luke checks the
house but there’s still no movement. He takes his phone from his pocket. Nothing. He goes back inside and to the living room window, standing there for another excruciating twenty minutes before scrolling for his wife’s number and calling her.

  Annabelle’s phone diverts to voicemail immediately. Luke’s bursting heart implodes. He’s suddenly numb. He walks to the bedroom and falls back on the bed, pulling Annabelle’s pillow to his face and smelling her. He closes his eyes and relives their lives together, the notion of sharing his beautiful wife with other men completely absurd and utterly gut wrenching. His phone buzzes with a text and he lifts bolt upright and paws at the screen.

  Annabelle: Sorry. Stopped at a carnival. Having a great time. Can you get dinner from the freezer? Love you too.

  Luke stares at the message. “A carnival. What the fuck?” He rubs his head, trying to get his mind around this. “A fucking carnival….” he repeats, dumbfounded, anger rising as he types.

  Luke: Fuck the freezer dinner. I’m going to the pub.

  He hits send and watches that satisfying little hit-back meld into the ether. He’s feeling charged now – in control again. “A carnival for fuck’s sake,” he mutters as he flops back on the bed.

  His phone buzzes again. He lifts it and clicks on the message.

  Annabelle: Okay have fun. Love you.

  Luke swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up. The rush of control and anger churns back into his gut and he doesn’t know what to feel. He looks at Annabelle’s message again and shakes his head in defeat.

  Luke: Love you too baby.

  He hit’s send, unable to add that his wife should have fun too. Even though she’s apparently at a carnival of all places.

  The idea of going to the pub has one appeal, as Luke is actually starving. He isn’t really in the mood for other faces though, and instead puts one of Annabelle’s frozen meals into the microwave. It’s just a slab of lasagne she saved as left-overs the other night. It slides down well with a couple of beers.

  By six o’clock, Luke is half drunk and on his computer. The thought of Annabelle with this other man is less traumatic now that Luke is imagining them at a carnival instead of in the back seat of a car or worse – the motel room that had forced its way into his mind before.

  He gets to thinking about her tiny skirt and everyone at the carnival getting looks at her panties. His hand is now on his cock and massaging a budding erection. He conjures an image of the huge arm of this dude around his petite young wife – holding her close and feeling her tits with his free hand – looking down her blouse at them like other men have done. He sees the guy pull Annabelle behind a carnival tent and slip a hand down the front of her panties – inserting fingers into her while she clings around his neck and bites into his massive shoulder.

  Luke’s cock is already throbbing quite painfully when he opens the webcam clip and watches the other dude taking his wife. He frees his shaft and strokes slowly through all the kissing and teasing. When the guy’s huge cock stabs into Annabelle that first time, Luke’s balls clench and thick ropes of cum lash his shirt front.

  Sated again, he closes his laptop and pulls off his shirt, tossing it at the cane wash basket in the corner. He leaves an unfinished beer and returns to the living room window. It’s getting on dark – almost seven o’clock. He watches as the hour passes with a number of cars driving by and pulling into other driveways. His mind ticks over what might happen when this guy eventually brings Annabelle home. She knows he’s not to be invited into the house, so that leaves him dropping her on the roadside or pulling into the driveway. There’s a porch light that they always leave on when going out for the evening. Luke flicks the switch, then with his heart again in his throat he climbs up to the attic and watches out the porthole window down at the driveway and street.

  He’s not there five minutes when a sleek deep blue car noiselessly swings into the driveway and stops. Luke’s chest is absolutely thumping now, as he has a clear view of the huge driver and his pretty wife. He’s looking down through the windscreen at them and can see quite well with the light from the porch.

  The car headlights extinguish. Luke’s gut tightens as he thinks they’re about to get out and come inside. There’s nothing for a minute. They’re just sitting there talking. Then the guy leans across and touches Annabelle’s face. She snuggles his hand, her eyes wide and glistening in the light. He leans further and draws her into a kiss. Her hand goes to his chest, scrunching his shirt. He gathers her waist and lifts her across the car and onto his lap, still with his mouth pressed to hers. Her legs bend up and scissor together. His hand immediately moves between them and presses into her crotch as their faces mash together.

  Luke’s cock has firmed again. He no longer feels any of the angst he’s been struggling with all day. He squints into the less than perfect light to make out what’s happening. The guy’s powerful arm is moving slightly as he continues to kiss Annabelle. Her thighs have parted. Her bottom lifts and braces. The guy’s arm starts jiggling. Annabelle breaks away from his face and buries her head into his neck. Her legs open further. Luke jacks his cock through his pants. After a minute Annabelle writhes up against the hand between her legs and squirms her thighs together. The guy relents, just holding firmly and massaging her crotch as he nuzzles for her face and takes her mouth again.

  Luke squeezes hard to stop from cumming in his pants. He slumps against the window with his arm bent above his head. The guy’s hand moves from between Annabelle’s thighs and he rubs up to cover a breast through her blouse. Luke can now see that his wife isn’t wearing panties. Her skirt is folded up over her belly. Her slit is bare and glistening in the light from the porch. The guy has opened her blouse and revealed a bare breast as well. He’s playing with the dark little nipple and still kissing her deeply.

  A full thirty minutes pass on Luke’s watch while this other man keeps his wife on his lap, talking and chuckling with her, frequently just stroking her hair and face and kissing her some more. The whole time, Annabelle’s blouse is open and her tits are exposed in the porch light.

  Finally there’s movement again, and Luke resumes feeling his cock as Annabelle sits up and scoots across to the passenger seat. She’s on her knees winding her hair in a band. The guy casually feels up between her thighs while undoing his pants and pushing them down a bit. Luke’s heart jumps up into his throat at sight of the size of the guy’s cock as he pulls it out and strokes slowly. Annabelle is still on her knees, watching – looking like she’s getting ready to straddle him. He’s still feeling her pussy. His cock has lengthened and is protruding a long way above his fist.

  Luke has to squeeze hard to stop from cumming again. He frees his own cock just in case – clamping down on the head and quelling an impending eruption just in time. His wife is now stroking the huge cock of the man who has had her all day – possibly even having fucked her already, Luke accepts now. The thought is heavy in his chest but feels right and natural.

  Annabelle doesn’t straddle the guy. She bends and starts sucking him off. Luke has to leave his own cock and doesn’t dare touch it as he watches with his face pressed to the window. It takes a long time – the guy stroking Annabelle’s hair gently and just watching her from the side. He eventually takes hold of her hair and starts thrusting through her hands. She has both hands around his fat shaft and is sucking on the few inches protruding and the tapered head. The guy grips the back of the passenger seat and thrusts urgently then bucks and holds firm – his head back and his face contorted as he obviously empties his balls in Annabelle’s mouth.

  He resumes playing with her hair and she remains down there in his lap – her head moving, and she doesn’t look up at the guy. Luke knows she’s licking and kissing his balls. He lifts a leg aside and she tilts her head to get down lower. He gropes her tits and pushes her blouse from her shoulders. She wriggles out of it but then sits up on her knees again. He leans across and sucks on a tit. She holds his head with one hand while reach
ing into the back seat with her other. She has her phone and manipulates it then puts it to her ear, still holding the guy’s head while he sucks her tits.

  Luke’s phone rings. He drops to the floor and quickly answers it. “Hey….” he croaks.

  “Hi. Where are you? Are you coming home soon?”

  Annabelle’s voice is cheerful. Luke can just hear the nuzzling sounds of the guy sucking on her.

  “Yeah, I’m on my way, baby,” Luke says, revelling in the thought of putting pressure on the situation.

  “Mmm – perfect,” Annabelle responds sultrily. “I’m home now. I’m getting in the shower and when you get here I want you to get with me, okay?”

  Luke is peeping through the window again. The guy is still sucking his wife’s little tits. “In the shower, huh?” he asks suggestively.

  “Yes that’s where I want you to fuck me, okay? Just get in and take me!”

  She clicks off her phone without letting Luke respond. She’s then pushing the guy away and backs out the passenger door. She has her shoulder bag and blouse clutched across her breasts, and she slams the door shut and walks quickly to the porch, just turning briefly to wave goodbye as the car backs out onto the road and zooms off up the street.

  Chapter 23

  Luke hears the shower start and climbs down from the attic. He has sobered up and is thinking clearly. The only issue he has right then is how to fuck Annabelle without cumming in two seconds flat. He goes to the freezer and grabs a packet of frozen peas, opening his pants and pressing them to his cock and balls – just through his underwear – enough to shrivel everything and numb down his previous excitement.

  He strips off and slips into the bathroom, grabbing a condom from the medicine cabinet, opening it and holding it between his teeth. Annabelle is rinsing her hair, her arms raised. He gets into the shower behind her and claims her firm little tits as his own again. She smiles and snuggles back, instantly making him harden up again. He rolls the rubber on. She guides him into her slick tunnel, and he starts fucking her without a word.