Stolen Kisses

by Philip Bell

Courtney said to me again, “Sure, you could steal her.” I had asked her to repeat herself, but I still couldn’t believe she’d actually said that. “Not really steal her—I mean, Theresa is your wife—but, you know, pretend steal. Sort of like the abduction fantasy she’s always talking about. You’ve mentioned that before.” Courtney was behind the bar slicing limes, getting ready for happy hour. Courtney was cute, young, and had a fantastic body.

“But it’s just that—a fantasy,” I reminded her.

“I would love it if you really tried it—took her somewhere to be fucked.” My cock flinched.

“Just out of the blue, take her to a motel. Get out of the house. Out of the routine. For a couple of hours, she’s not your wife. So you don’t screw her like she’s your wife.” A squirt of lime juice shot onto Courtney’s white blouse.

“You know, I guess I could. You ever do something like that?”

“Once my boyfriend had me get in the backseat of his car—lying down so no one would see me—just like I was being kidnapped. The whole while I knew it was him, but part of me was into pretending it wasn’t. It was wild.”

At home that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about “abducting” Theresa. But I couldn’t see myself doing it either.

Theresa was getting ready for bed, and I was in the living room with a throbbing hard-on, thinking about grabbing her while she was undressing, taking her somewhere in the car.

Theresa came into the living room in the flannel nightgown she often slept in. Far from sexy lingerie, it covered her with cute patterns of flowers from throat to ankle. “Good-night, sweetie.” She kissed me and went upstairs to bed.

Ten minutes later I went into the bedroom. The lights were out. Theresa was under the sheets. Heart pounding, cock hard, I sat down on the edge of the mattress. Theresa felt my presence and opened her eyes. “Everything okay?”

“I’m going to kidnap you.”

Theresa blinked at me in the darkness and said, “Okay.”

I grabbed the hem of her nightgown and yanked it up; when it caught around her hips, I tugged it hard. She raised her arms so I could pull it over her head, and then she lay still, facedown, arms raised in the air. I’d never seen her in a pose like this. I savored it, then said, “Come on, let’s go,” trying to sound like someone else.

Theresa was lusciously compliant. She got out of bed and I led her into the hall toward the stairs.

“Where are you taking me?” my wife whispered with surprising sexuality.

“Someplace to fuck you.”

We went down the stairs and through the kitchen. I opened the door leading to the garage. She seemed both excited and hesitant in my arms, with the cooler air from the garage washing over us.

“Where are we going?”

“For a ride.”

Her bare feet stepped down onto the concrete. I led her to my car and opened the rear door. “Lie down so no one can see you.” Hot rushes went through me, recalling what Courtney had said, that it wasn’t at all like being with my wife, although I was. “Turn over.” I had to work to keep a little edge in my voice when, truth was, my wife was mesmerizing me.

She rolled onto her back and let her leg slide off the seat, exposing her pussy. “Are you going to lick me?”

In a flash my mouth was on her pussy. My tongue pushed into her curly patch of hair, dipping into her folds and deeper, discovering a sweet surge of sex juices. I kept my tongue firm and steady, swirling around her clit.

Theresa moaned, “Oh, yeah, lick me. Lick me. Make me come. Do it fast before my husband comes home.”

The dialogue surprised me—that Theresa was into acting this out.

“Don’t stop,” my wife ad-libbed. “My husband’s working late, but I never know when he might come home. And your tongue feels so good . . . yes . . . right there on my clit. Spread my pussy with it. Oh, God—I’m going to come.” She sucked in her breath and clutched the seat. “Lick me. Lick me! Oh, yes! Yes!” Theresa’s cries echoed in the garage. She hit orgasm pretending another man had come into her house and was getting her off!

Theresa was still catching her breath when I had her get out of the car. She was light-headed from orgasm, and sighed, “That was so good.” I had her stand facing the trunk of the car, then leaned her facedown so her sticky-warm breasts were squashed against the car’s cool finish. Theresa spread her arms out and wriggled her ass.

I was so turned on, I almost lost it. It felt as if my head and cock were having a contest to see which would explode first. I grasped my wife’s hips and angled my cock under her buttocks. The head of my shaft probed her slick pussy lips, and with a firm thrust I sank inside.

Theresa squealed with pleasure and raised up on her toes. As my length went into her, she banged the trunk with her palm. “That’s it. Oh, yes! Fuck me. Do it. Fast. Fuck me! Before he comes home and catches us.”

My climax exploded inside her, the pleasure pumping through my body. Theresa cried out in orgasm. And it wasn’t at all like fucking my wife. Not for a second.

Fortunately, Theresa knew that I was friendly with Courtney and that we sometimes talked about sex. We decided to tell Courtney how well our night went—that we never made it out of the garage. Theresa and I met at Courtney’s restaurant the very next night, only Courtney wasn’t working. Theresa handed me a pen from her pocketbook and had me write on a cocktail napkin at our table. “Tell her,” Theresa said, “it was very, very hot, and we’re hoping to do something like it again soon.”

I was still flying high from last night. My cock had gotten hard a dozen times during the day thinking about it. Theresa leaned across the table and kissed me. The front of her blouse flew open to show her pretty pink bra and cleavage. She said, “I’ll be right back,” and headed to the bathroom.

I was writing the note to Courtney when Courtney, in person, took my wife’s seat. “Hey.” I smiled. “I was just jotting—”

Courtney, looking very serious, touched my hand. “Phil, I think Theresa’s been abducted.”

“I know. It was absolutely fantastic. Last night, we never made it—”

“I’m not talking about last night, Phil. I mean right now. I just saw a guy take Theresa out to a car. I think we should go look for her, Phil. Right now!”

I was stunned.

Courtney stepped out of character and said, “It’s going to be fun.” Then, with mock seriousness again, “We’d better hurry.”

Courtney sat up front in the car beside me, telling me which turn to take and urging me to drive faster. “I think the guy with Theresa . . . I think he’s going to fuck her. I think he’s going to get her pussy wet, fuck her, and then put his cock in her mouth. She’s going to be tasting her own pussy on his cock while she sucks him off.”

I was driving, but I hardly saw the road. I was driving on instinct, like a pilot relying on instruments when navigating through fog. Things, plots, I realized, had been happening behind my back, conceived and hatched by Courtney and my wife. There was no other explanation. I knew that Theresa went to the restaurant often for lunch, and that she and Courtney had gotten friendly, but had they become familiar enough to do this?

Courtney said, “Turn here,” directing me into a residential neighborhood of older ranch homes and split-levels.

“Wait a minute . . .” I said.

“Phil,” Courtney interrupted. She put her hand on my leg. “We’ll just go to the door and ring the bell. Whoever has Theresa, I’ll tell him he can fuck me instead. We’ll trade me for her. I don’t know if he’ll do it, because I think I know who he is. If I’m right, it’s this guy Theresa’s been having an affair with. They have lunch together all the time. One afternoon I saw Theresa blow him in his car in the parking lot. He’s crazy for her, Phil. That’s why he came to the restaurant tonight—just to have her. And she can’t resist him, either. Maybe you should do the talking. You tell him you know he’s been fucking Theresa, and it’s okay, but she’s your wife. And you think he’ll be happy fucking me instead.”

I played along. “Do you think he’s hot?”

“I could fuck him.” She pointed to the driveway. “Here’s the place.”

We went to the front door, Courtney hurrying me along. I felt a little self-conscious “in character,” but was beside her when she rang the bell. My guess was no one would answer the door—there was no guy—and we’d go in, I’d find Theresa waiting in bed with a turn-on story for me about having just fucked her lover, and we’d go wild like last night.

Naturally I was more than a little taken aback when a guy did actually answer the door. So much for being able to guess about what was going to happen.

“Tell him,” Courtney said once we were inside. “Tell him why I’m here.” She was prompting me to act this out, only I was having a hard time keeping my sense of balance.

The guy was shirtless, wearing baggy shorts. A nice-looking stud—about Courtney’s age—with a square jaw and defined pecs. His smile was easygoing and he was into this, looking expectant of whatever the girls had dreamed up.

“I want to trade her for my wife.” I blurted out my line, pretty badly.

The guy didn’t care. He considered Courtney. “She’s cute.”

“Where’s Theresa?” I asked.

Thinking we’d struck a deal, Courtney started toward him, looking very aroused herself, only the guy held up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait.”

Courtney stopped. She looked at him knowingly and asked, “What?” She was talking to him like he was her boyfriend, and sensing he was about to throw her a curve.

He said, “I’m not sure I want to trade.”

“You’re not?” She moved closer, but he backed away.

Suddenly, Courtney wasn’t a player in Theresa’s and my game; I was added stimulation for her and her boyfriend.

The fellow pointed me toward Courtney. “How about you take her clothes off? Let me see what she looks like.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped in surprise—a look that turned to a broad smile. I guessed her boyfriend was having fun with her. Their eyes met and shared a common daring, then Courtney said, “Go on, Phil, strip me.” When I hesitated, she urged, “Come on. Like this.” She directed my hands to the waist of her T-shirt.

I pulled her top slowly from her jeans and kept lifting, exposing the deep circle of her navel, then the white cotton of her bra. Courtney raised her arms, and I pulled off her T-shirt.

My cock was rocked with this sweet surprise, having thought about seeing Courtney naked many times over the past couple of years but never dreaming it might really happen.

She stepped out of her shoes and I unbelted, unsnapped, and pulled down her jeans, having to really get hold of gathering denim to work them over her hips.

Pants off, Courtney stood in her matching white bra and panties. Great body—workout lean. Her nipples were hard. Her bush pushed a fuzzy contour against the crotch of her French-cut panties.

He said to me, “Take off her bra.”

It snapped open between her breasts, so my fingers touched the warm flesh of her cleavage while making quick work of the plastic catch. I peeled her bra slowly from her breasts, letting the soft fabric slide across her nipples.

Courtney was eager to be naked. She started to take down her panties when her boyfriend said, “Wait—let him do it.”

I knelt on one knee beside Courtney. My fingers touched inside the band of her panties and I gently dragged them down her legs.

Courtney’s pussy hair was long and unruly. I had the urge to press my mouth to her folds and dip into her sex with my tongue, but eased away instead.

Courtney turned slowly in place, displaying herself for her boyfriend, who, right now, wasn’t her boyfriend at all but a stranger she’d come to fuck.

Her boyfriend said to me, “You’ve got a deal. Your wife’s back in the bedroom.”

As I started that way, Courtney and her boyfriend went at it. I glanced back and saw her opening his pants, taking out his cock, sucking him.

But the more incredible sight was in the bedroom. I opened the door and found Theresa spread-eagled naked in bed, holding herself extended like that.

Only when she saw me, she gasped, “Oh my God, Phil,” and curled herself into a ball, acting as though I had caught her with her boyfriend. “I can’t help myself with him, Phil. Anything he asks me to do, I do it. He has this power over me. I fuck him, suck him, anything he says.”

“I know,” I said, stripping. “And it turns me on.” I grasped my wife’s knees and opened her legs, then lay on top of her with my hard-on rubbing across her mound. My tongue pushed its way into her mouth. My hands roughly groped her tits.

Theresa gasped, “It turns you on?”

“Yes, it does.” My pulsing shaft found her slick nether lips and pushed inside, cleaving open her pink wet folds.

A surge shot through me that was entirely different from last night. That had been abducting a stranger. Tonight I was fucking my wife after “catching” her with her “lover.”

Theresa had set the stage and cast the actors, and I was into the play. Her arms and legs wrapped around me, her body moved rhythmically. “Oh, yeah, Phil, fuck me like that. Hard and fast, just like he does. Like you can’t control yourself—because I can’t either.” My wife was talking to me, fucking me, like never before. She locked her ankles behind my lower back and we fucked intensely.

“This is how he does me,” she groaned. “He likes to get his cock deep inside my pussy. He likes to fuck me hard. Fuck me like this!” Her words came in quick bursts. “Fuck me! Do it, Phil!”

My cock stroked her wet slit, and Theresa wailed loudly. She cried out through a long climax, and when she was through I rolled her onto her stomach and went back into her pussy from behind. Theresa grunted as my shaft angled up inside her. She pawed a pillow and raised her ass, groaning, “Oh, yeah, Phil, do it.”

I grabbed her tits and squeezed. My chest was sticky against Theresa’s back, both of us perspiring freely.

Theresa turned her face against the pillow to brush her hair from her eyes. “Did you undress her?” she gasped.

“Yes.”

“That’s so hot. It was Steve’s idea. He asked if I’d mind you doing that, and I said no. I said you could do anything you wanted . . . anything she wanted . . . anything . . .”

“Anything?”

“Yes,” Theresa gasped. “You could lick her nipples, put a finger in her pussy, have your cock in her mouth, put your cock—Oh, God, I’m coming again! Fuck me! Fuck!”

My cock was on the edge, speeding in and out of my wife’s pussy. My head rocked with pleasure and fantasy. Theresa was changing roles again: not my wife caught with her lover, but my wife. She’d come full circle, back to being my spouse, but still different. Her inhibitions had been released. Theresa was talking about me having sex with Courtney, and getting off on it.

Theresa screamed in orgasm. I pumped strongly, the hard line through my cock jerking in ecstasy. My come started to unleash—shaft spasming, thrusting, pumping. Joy shot through me. Hot semen surged into my wife. Strong peak. Intense. Hot.

“Yeah, Theresa, yeah!”

On the drive home, cock aching and head reeling, I looked over at Theresa and smiled. She smiled back, a contented, thrilled smile, like we’d just discovered something.

“I’ve got to ask,” I began, “whose idea was this, yours or Courtney’s?”

“It was mine—the part of me that fantasizes about fucking other men . . . having you fuck other women . . . and both of us being with another couple. It’s the me I’m a little afraid to let out.”

“A little fear is good,” I replied, “but so is a lot of fantasy.”

“Would you have felt that way if you’d walked into that bedroom and found him on top of me . . . with his cock in my mouth?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I pulled the car to the side of the road, unzipped my pants, and let Theresa see how hard my cock was already. As cars whizzed by us I said, “When was the last time I was this hard again, this fast?”

Theresa touched my erection and licked her lips. She said, “My name’s Linda and I need a ride across town. I’ll suck you off if you take me there.”

“Linda, you take off your shirt and you’ve got a deal.”

I drove down the expressway getting blown by a topless blonde stranger named Linda, who was really my beautiful wife, who was really very cool and not as conservative as she looked.