Spring Fantasy
It had been a warm spring day — hopefully the sign of a long hot summer ahead. I like the summer, it’s when my wife gets the most frisky. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the heat, but when summer arrives she dresses more skimpily around the house — usually loose, oversize tank tops, and short shorts. And if she’s not in the shorts she’s going commando in a long flowing sun dress. I know she’s sans panties because she likes to lift her hem and expose herself to me when she thinks there’s no one else around. No one around that can see, that is, because sometimes when she’s especially flirty she’ll flash when others are near but out of the sight-line.
Given the size of my wife’s full natural breasts I am constantly amazed at how she manages to show so much side-boob in those tank tops without causing a wardrobe malfunction. Today I got yet another massive hard on as I watched her potter around the garden — bending over here and there to pick things up, stretching across to reach this and that — and each time I wondered if this was the moment I’d see a breast fall out, or spot a nipple amongst that side-boob action.
I never did, not once, but I knew she was doing it all on purpose — teasing me with the promise of what might come later. As the sun set my mind began to drift and I fell into a half sleep. Daydreaming, I imagined my wife pottering in the garden alone. She was dressed the same but now it was the middle of the day, in the middle of summer, and the sun was beating down hard.
As the sweat dripped down her neck, gathering in rivulets between her pendulous breasts, my wife decided she needed to towel off. But she had no towel, and knew that if she walked back into the house she’d never come back out. It was cool inside, and the temptation to linger would be too much. She looked achingly up at the sun, trying to guess what time it was and how long before she had done enough to earn a spell inside.
Her gaze wandered from the sky towards our neighbors house. We were on the corner so his was the only house that could look directly into our backyard. She scanned both his windows and his yard and seeing no-one there she decided it would be safe to remove her tank top and wipe away the sweat that now felt unbearably sticky on her hot skin. So she lifted her stretch-cotton tank-top high above her head in one swift movement and began drying herself with the warm fabric.
She ran it over and around her neck, before pulling it down the front of her chest, wiping her decolletage first and then continuing under her heavy breasts. The texture of the cloth felt good against her skin so she rubbed it over her nipples, for no good reason other than she thought it might feel good. And she was correct. She did it roughly at first but then repeated the movement ever so lightly, watching as her nipples swelled and extended. She was surprised herself to see how quickly they hardened, even in the warm afternoon sun.
My wife quickly brushed away the sweat under both armpits before tossing the tank-top aside, and resuming her nipple play. This time she scraped them lightly with her fingernails, reveling in the shivers that ran around her neck and down her spine. Who says you can’t tickle yourself? she wondered, as she playfully swirled her fingers around her nipples and over her breasts. The sensations overwhelmed her and suddenly she felt a yearning need for more. Gripping both breasts in both hands she squeezed herself hard and watched as her nipples seemed to pop out even further.
It was at this point that our neighbor Sam could take it no more and dropped his pants to free the stiff cock that had become so dreadfully uncomfortable trapped inside his tight jeans. He knew it was wrong to look but hadn’t she just moments earlier stared directly at him, as he stood up in his bedroom window? She must have wanted him to watch — why else would she put on this show? And if she was going to put on a show he was damn well going to make the most of it.
What Sam didn’t realize was that with the angle of the sun my wife had seen nothing in his bedroom window except the dazzling glare reflected on the outside. She hadn’t seen him there at all and had begun her breast massage purely for her own pleasure. She was oblivious to Sam, who was stroking his cock quickly in the belief she was performing for him. As my wife pulled her nipples hard, stretching them out and holding them an inch or two further than nature intended, Sam bit his lip and imagined it was he who was biting her pert breasts.
My wife relished the slow burning pain in her nipples a moment longer, before releasing herself and watching them snap back into their normal position. She ran her hands all over both breasts, rubbing them slowly to diffuse the pain sensation in her nipples, and spreading the warm glow all over her fulsome tits. Licking her lips she wet her finger tips and commenced circling her areola, marvelling at how much her nipples continued to stiffen and extend further. She was completely unaware that Sam was upstairs next door and going off the deep end.
Sam groaned and squeezed his balls as he observed the sight below, all the while continuing to jack his cock vigorously. He’d always fancied my wife and this wasn’t the first time he’d masturbated over her, but those situations were all fantasy — they’d all been imagined in his head. Now she was here for real — rolling around in our yard almost directly below him — writhing in pleasure as she fondled herself.
Dressed in nothing but her cut off denim shorts my near naked wife was a sight to behold. She was now lying down on her back, on the dry grass with legs akimbo, and running her hands seductively all over her bountiful boobs. She was blessed with a great rack and yet they seemed even larger than normal, thought Sam. It was like he’d been gifted with magnifying vision — the longer he stared the bigger they got. He knew she wasn’t a 40DD but there she was, writhing before him with her massive melon sized tits, and nipples like pencil erasers.
Sam’s cock was throbbing now, the precum dribbling from his knob, and he knew he was fit to burst. He desperately wanted to cum but he also didn’t want the show to end. Oh dear god, why couldn’t she wave him over and invite him down to paint her tits with his cum? To spray her down and hose her with his man juice? Glancing down at his purple twitching dick Sam had an even better idea: why wasn’t she in his bedroom now — so he could plant his cock in her lady garden and pump her full of his hot sticky mess?
Sam startled as my wife gripped his cock, squeezing hard. ‘Mmmmmm,” she purred “it looks like someone’s ready for me?”
WTF? My wife was in his room, and she had a tight hold on his prick. She tugged it through his pants… pants? How did he have his pants back on? A moment ago his pants were around his ankles and he was about to fire a thick jet of hot cum all over his bedroom window — but now…?
I blinked, my eyes opening and adjusting into focus.
My wife was standing above me as I lay sprawled on the outdoor sofa on the patio. She had her hand on my crotch, feeling the length of my dick, and was pleased with what she found. She dropped to her knees and pulled at my zip. “Doze off did you?” she asked rhetorically, “having naughty dreams were you?” Still dazed I could only mumble something incoherent in return, like a small child. “Mmmmmm,” she continued, as she fished out my cock “I hope you were dreaming about me…”
And that was all she said, as she dropped her head down and slipped me into her mouth….
Author’s note: this is erotic fiction, inspired by this blog post by May More)
Linked to the meme Mindful Moments
