Saturday, July 26, 2014

Threesome


She just left. With him. Emily just left with Matthew.

I'm shaking. Fuck, I'm shaking. Literally. It's hard to type.

It's not bad. I'm not shaking because it's bad. I mean, yes, yes, butterflies, nerves, humiliation, jealousy. Yes, all of that, yes. But more, so much more.

She just left with him. On a date. And more.

We were in the bathroom, earlier, I was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding a towel, watching her shower. Watching her soap, watching her wash every inch of her body, her most intimate places. Watching her carefully shave her legs, one at a time on the ledge, back to me, turning to give me a tight smile.

Watching her shave between her legs, not bare, but trim, neat, orderly. Trimming herself, what, in anticipation, in hope? She looked at me, shrugged slightly, smiled impishly, made a gesture.

Just in case, it said, I assume, it said, who knows, it said, better to be prepared, it said, I hope, it said.

When she stepped out of the shower, I stood, dried her from head to toe. Carefully, tenderly. It was my silent acceptance, my silent approval, preparing her, helping her.

I wouldn't be dressed as Sara later, when he arrived, not outwardly, anyway. We'd discussed that. He had some idea what I was, the meek, submissive, beta husband, but not all, not about the girl inside me, not about the sissy. Not yet, she decided, we decided, not too much, too soon.

But I was dressed then. I knew what time she was getting in the shower, so half an hour before I excused myself, went to the bedroom, freshened up, donned my best maid's uniform.

She smiled when she came into the bedroom, saw me standing in black and white satin, waiting. "Oh, Sara," she said.

"Too…too much," I asked.

"No, love, no, not at all. I…you're so good to me."

"I thought…"

"I know, love, I know. You're perfect."

I rubbed lotion into her skin; she usually did this herself, but not today; today I took care of her intimate preparations, sensually, seductively, knowing the sexual energy, her desires, if fulfilled, would be by him, not me.

I opened the box with her new bra and panties, black lace, pink trim. A bra designed not so much to cover her breasts but to push them up, to emphasize them. Panties that did the same when I helped her into them, pulled them up her legs, pulled the thong between her ass cheeks. Without asking, I leaned forward, kissed each cheek carefully, tenderly.

"Careful," she scolded me after the second kiss, before I wrapped a matching garter belt around her waist. "

She did her hair and makeup while I changed again, into slacks and a shirt. "Get my small valise, please," she asked. It was a small pink bag, suitable for overnight, no more, but no more was needed. "Go ahead, get it ready."

I stared at her, wasn't sure what she wanted packed. "I…"

"Start with what you picked out for him," she said, reading my mind. The lingerie, the sheer white babydoll and panties, innocent, almost bridal. The lingerie I picked out for her to wear for him. She looked beautiful modeling it in the store, almost shy, knowing why we were buying it.

"Any…any other clothes?"

She thought for a moment, shook her head no. "My contact case. The other thing you bought. I saw them in your drawer." I looked down, blushed. A package of condoms. She was on the pill, but we both knew this was a necessity, now anyway.

"I appreciate you taking care of that, as much as I'd like to forgo…as much as we'd like to forgo…"

"I know…"

"If it works…if he works…it's a gift we can give him later…and you, too."

"Em," I closed my eyes, felt the wave wash over me, the anticipation, the familiar tightness between my legs. She knew the look, had a smirk on her face.

"That reminds me…" She opened the drawer in the vanity next to her sink, took out a small jewelry box, the box her engagement ring came in.

"You're not wearing…" I swallowed, for the first time feeling full, real anxiety.

"No…I mean yes, of course I'm wearing them. I'm married, happily, of course. No, this…this goes in the bag…but here, open it."

I took it from her, opened it, looked inside; where the ring went, where it had been nestled in the white satin lining, was something small, brass.

The key.

The key to the cage. The key to my penis. The key to my sissy clit. My god, that's where she keeps it? I never thought to look, really, and if I did wouldn't have thought to look there.

"I'm taking it with me tonight…for symbolic sake." She finished dressing…nude, sheer, lace top hose carefully attached to her garter straps; black heels; her short, revealing black dress.

"How do I look," she asked.

"Stunning," I said. "Truly stunning."

"Sara…"

"You don't have to ask, Emily, the answer's the same. Yes."

"You're sure."

"No," I laughed. "But yes, just the same."

She answered the door when he knocked, welcomed him in. I was standing a few feet behind her, meek, quiet, not wanting to look protective or intrusive.

"Emily," he said, "you look stunning." He didn't waste time with boldness or assertiveness, stepped forward, put his hand in the small of her back, pulled her forward, kissed her cheek. It wasn't passionate, but it was possessive, and before acknowledging me, he affectively established his control of the room, his dominance of the situation, the hierarchy of him to us, to me.

He stepped back, though left his hand on Emily, looked at me. "Nice to see you again," he said, holding his hand out.

I stepped towards him, again, carefully; I was soft and subtle, I was respectful, and meek as I took his hand. "You, too, Matthew," I said.

"Emily said you picked out her dress; you have good taste," he said.

"Thank you," I said, blushed at my reaction to his compliment.

"We need to leave," he said to my wife, obviously wanting to keep the interaction with me short to avoid awkwardness.

"Of course," Emily said, looked at me, then him. He pulled his hand back, letting her move forward to kiss me.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too," I answered.

We looked at each other, in the eyes, the fire was in hers, in mine.

"Your bag," I said, picked up the case from the table.

"Yes…thanks," she laughed. "I…" she looked back at him. "I don't know…"

Matthew cut in. "I don't know what time I'll have her back," he said to me. "We'll see how dinner goes. I'll have her text you after dinner to let you know what we're doing."

"O…okay," I agreed, though his words were a statement, not a question.

"Sweetie…"

"Have…have a good time," I said.

"We will," Matthew answered, put his hand in the small of her back again, led her to the door.

I watched him walk her to the car, open the door, watched her slide into the front seat of his Audi. He looked back me, saw me in the doorway, smiled, nodded. Emily had her phone out, was doing something, put it away as he opened his own door and got it. I heard my phone vibrate, but ignored it as he pulled out of the drive, instead watching my wife.

Oh fuck, oh holy fuck. My stomach was turning, I knew it would, but I was half erect, too.

Fuck, oh fuck, she left with him.

I shut the door, heard my phone vibrate a second time, found it, saw the text from Emily.

"I hope he's the one, Sara, I hope he's what we want, because it made me sooooo wet seeing him talk to you. Love you soooooo much."

Fuck, I hope he's the one, too, because just as she's wet, I'm swollen. Just as she's excited, I'm excited, too. I don't want a man that just wants to fuck her, I want a man that wants more, that gets her, but gets me, too, that gets us...Emily and me.

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