Keep Your Wife Happy 2

Keep Your Wife Happy 2

Copyright Hugh Doute 2013

Edited by James Friedman

Her little vagina had been pulsing inside, squeezing and massaging my prick.  Even though she had fallen away from me, my orgasm would not abate.  It had started, I was already close, and it came now, with a roar and a great deal of air fucking. 

I don’t remember ever coming that hard.

With eyelids almost closed, I watched my cum rocket upward, outward, and then descend, landing in a long steam of white that striped my wife’s body from head to navel.

Then another eruption ejected, arcing onto her nakedness. 

And a third.

I collapsed.

The unfinished plywood floor was full of slivers.  I had nothing left in me; I simply could not get back up.  As I faded, I remember thinking that I had never cum that hard in my whole life.

I remember grinning.

Then something was nudging me.  “Is that you honey?” my wife’s voice asked.

“Huh?” I said, still in the grips of my sleepy stupor.

“Honey, I’m tied up and can’t get up.  Can you help me please?” she asked.

Slowly I remembered what had happened.  I looked at my watch.  As best I could figure it out, I had been out for about an hour.

The foot nudged me again, harder.  “HONEY!”

“Yeah babe, I was asleep.  Give me sec.”  I managed to get to my feet. 

Looking down, there was that incredible pair of tits.  I reminded myself they were my wife’s tits.  My god what a perfect pair of cha-chas!

“Want me to pick you up or untie you or what?” I asked her.

“Just put me back where I was, just in case they come back and want some more of my wet nooky,” my wife answered.

Obediently I picked her up and sat her back on the bench.  “You OK?” I asked as I removed her blindfold.

Something happened.  My wife’s face changed.  She suddenly looked about, seeming uncertain. 

She looked down, saw her nakedness, and began to scream at me, “What have you done!  What have you done to me?  Where are my clothes, why am I tied up like this!  You pervert!  Why did you do this?”  Then she started to cry.

Utterly confused, I stared at her for a few seconds, then looked around for her clothes. 

I saw no clothing.  I trotted from room to room, looking. 

My wife started screaming again, swearing at me, “Untie me, you son of a bitch!  How dare you?  You are such a pervert!  Untie me!”

I rushed back into the room and worked feverishly to untie her.  She swore at me the whole time, screaming at me, calling me every four-letter-word in the book. 

I worked as fast as I could, but finally realized there was no way I was going to be able to untie her.  I need a knife to cut her bonds.

My wife kept getting madder and madder. 

Finally I stood up and went around to her front.  I stared at her as she screamed at me. 

Suddenly I had had enough.  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I screamed at her.

She looked shocked. 

I never yell, especially at her. 

She did calm down.

“Look honey, I did not do this to you.  I don’t know where your clothes are.  I can’t untie the cords.  I need a knife.  I was looking for one.  Just sit tight and I’ll be back when I find a knife.  Do you understand?”

She nodded blankly.

I searched through every carpenter’s bag and toolbox I could find.  There was not one knife to be found, nor nippers, nor pliers, nor anything that could help me to free her.

Totally exasperated, I went back to her.  “Nothing!  Can’t find a thing that I can cut you loose with.  And I can’t find your clothes.  So you have to decide; I can either leave you here and go get tools, or I can carry you out to the car and take you home and use my tools.  Which do you prefer?”

She started to bawl.  Huge racking sobs.  “NEITHER!” she sobbed.

OH GOD!  I could just see our new neighbors gossiping about the naked woman that I carried over my shoulder to my car! 

Oh GOD!