“Rule 2. You only have…intercourse here, in the bedroom of the annexe of this house, while Nnamdi and I are in the house downstairs. We will put music on because frankly, I do not want to have to hear any bedsprings creaking, but we both want to be here.”
Nnamdi nodded awkwardly as if in agreement, and I wondered what this must be like for him, and how he felt in the moments before allowing another man to fuck his pretty wife.
If the roles had been reversed I would have been feeling sick to the stomach right now, particularly at the thought of someone with a much better physique sleeping with my other half.
Chioma’s husband was a naturally good-looking guy, although at 5’9″ he was 4 inches shorter than me, and in his early thirties was already being beset by the twin physical assaults of both baldness and middle-age spread.
I exercised regularly and had a full head of hair and a well-honed strong tall physique, and Nnamdi had become a useful benchmark in the last 3 years with which to compare myself when pointing out to Bisola how lucky she was to be married to such a fine physical specimen.
I also suspected that my cock’s girth and length could put Nnamdi’s to shame.
“Rule 3. We want you to do what you have to do as soon as possible, then finish and come back downstairs.”
I noticed that Chioma frowned at this point. I wondered what was going through her head right now, and whether all she viewed me as was as a supplier of the seed which would impregnate her.
That definitely was not the way I was considering the impending intimacy, and nervous excitement was building in me at the thought of imminent sex with a woman other than my wife, my first experience of extra-marital sex and the first time I would be fucking any other woman than Bisola in more than 10 years.
“Rule 4. Please only undress to the minimum extent required, as in take your trousers and skirt off but leave your tops on.”
I glanced at the silk blouse Chioma was wearing when Bisola said this and fleetingly saw the swell of her small breasts pressed against the fabric.
I continued to wonder whether Chioma had given much specific thought to the actual act of sex, or whether she was entirely focused on the consequences. I had no idea really whether she even found me attractive.
“Rule 5. No intimate talk, obviously. Just get things done.”
At this rate, I was expecting someone to present me with a blindfold and a set of headphones, any second now. Anyway, the odd thing about all of the events of the last two days was that it seemed to be Bisola and Nnamdi doing all the talking. Chioma and I had barely addressed each other directly since the proposition.
This made me think about the fact that Chioma had a higher-pitched voice and a more refined accent compared to Bisola’s deeper down-to-earth accent and husky voice. What would that voice sound like if in the throes of passion?
“Rule 6. No intimate touching. If you need to use your hands to…steady each other, fine. But nothing else.”
I involuntarily flexed my fingers at this point. I had large hands, but Chioma’s petite build carried into also having very small delicate hands.
“Rule 7. There is to be nothing else intimate. No kissing, obviously…in fact, nothing with mouths.”
Chioma interjected at this point, to say “Bisola, I am so grateful for you doing this, but…God, as if I would do any of that when you have been so good to me.” I looked down at my feet, suspecting that indeed she probably had not given much thought at all to the actual deed of sex with me.
“And to carry on,” continued Bisola, “Rule 8. None of us ever speaks of this again after night 5.” She turned to look at Chioma, and then me. “Is everyone agreed?”
“Of course,” I replied, and Chioma and Nnamdi also voiced their agreement.
“In that case,” finished Bisola, “I guess there is no time like the present.”
And then we were all stood up, and Bisola was next to me, giving me a kiss on the cheek and whispering, “Remember what we said – you are all mine.”
Nnamdi and Chioma also embraced, and slightly bizarrely Nnamdi shook my hand, and then it was time for Chioma and me to head upstairs.
Chioma led the way to the annexe bedroom. It was at the far side of their house and was almost a self-contained flat reached by walking down a long corridor, with a bedroom and attached bathroom with sink, toilet and shower.
I followed Chioma into the room, and after I had entered she moved back to the bedroom door and shut it. I heard music come on downstairs (as Bisola had indicated) while I surveyed the room, which was furnished in a basic fashion with the most prominent feature being the king-sized bed in the middle. The curtains had been drawn, and one small lamp in the corner was on, lighting the room in a soft orange glow.
I turned to look down at Chioma, who was about a metre away from me, a foot shorter in height. She made eye contact with me, and I could suddenly tell she was nervous. Hell, I suddenly felt school-boy nervous and there was definitely an uneasy tension in the room.
“Well,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Here we are. So, what do we do now?”
Chioma smiled embarrassedly at this, then said. “I suppose we could both get into bed under the covers, then take our lower half clothing off.”
I noted to myself as she said this that she really did look fine tonight, and Nnamdi was definitely a lucky man. I was particularly captivated by her stunning dark brown eyes, and I was surprised I had never really noticed them properly until now.
“Ok then,” I said, and we both moved to opposite sides of the bed, sliding under the duvet cover, until we stopped, lying on our sides facing each other about a metre apart. I was on the left of the bed and she was on the right, and we were close enough together for me to be able to smell the fresh-scented perfume she was wearing. I had put on my favourite aftershave, which no doubt she could also smell.
We made eye contact again, while there was another awkward silence while we both waited for the other one to say or do something.
“This is slightly weird,” I said. “I can honestly say that I never expected the two of us to find ourselves together in these circumstances.”
“I know,” she replied, with a half-smile, her pert small breast again visibly pressing against her tight silk blouse as she rested on her side on her elbow. I could only half-see because I did not want to drop my eye contact and stare directly at her chest, but I was pretty sure that she was not wearing a bra under the shirt, and that I could detect the points of her nipples pressing against the fabric. “I really appreciate you being prepared to do this.”
My pleasure, I thought, but decided not to voice that. “So, do we take our jeans off now?” I asked, and she responded by nodding and then starting to wriggle slightly under the duvet, and then the jeans were cast from the side of the bed. I followed suit, then said, “And I guess we get rid of my boxers and your…erm…underwear as well?”
“I guess we do,” she replied. More wriggling ensued from both of us, and then we were both in bed together, still about a metre apart and naked from the waist down, me wearing a close-fitting t-shirt on the top half and Chioma wearing only the silk blouse. Despite my earlier anticipation, the slight awkwardness of the situation meant that I was currently completely flaccid.
There was an uncomfortable silence, then Chioma finally said, “Do we need to make ourselves…ready? Shall I lay on my back?”
It was my turn to look embarrassed. “Look, Chioma, I never have any problems getting ready for…intercourse, but right now there is no movement down…there.” I made a meaningful look towards my midriff, currently hidden under the duvet. “I think I will need to touch myself. Is that OK?”
“God….this is really embarrassing, isn’t it?” she said, openly smiling for the first time. “I think I will need to touch myself too, to also get myself…ready for you.”
I then lay on my back, looking across at her as she did the same, and we both moved and slid slightly closer together. Again, there was shifting under the duvet as I placed my right hand on my cock, and her left arm moved down to her midriff. “We had better be careful that we don’t break Rule 5, no intimate talk, with all this talk of getting ready,” I joked. “Shall we start on a count of three?”
This at least earned a laugh, but she didn’t reply and after a second I looked across at her and noticed that her arm had begun to move under the duvet, and she had undoubtedly begun to touch her lower parts to prepare herself for sex. She had also closed her eyes while she did this, such that I was able to openly feast my eyes upon her very cute and attractive face and slender but sexy top half.
There was a look of intense concentration on her face, and she had adopted an expression that could not be described as anything other than incredibly erotic, her mouth slightly open with her top teeth resting on her bottom lip.
I could also see her chest rising and falling in deep breaths while the top part of her arm (the only part visible to me) moved slowly in what was clearly a masturbatory motion. I could in particular now clearly see the erect nipples of her breasts pressing against the silk fabric, and I had indeed been correct that she was not wearing a bra.
I wondered what image or thought she was using to turn herself on to get herself moist enough for sex, whether she was thinking about Nnamdi, or thinking about me and what was about to happen. I suspected the former was far more likely. I then wondered whether she was already wet enough to take my cock.
It was at this point that the reality of being in bed with my wife’s attractive and sexy best friend, who was now masturbating herself less than a metre from me, suddenly hit me. My cock responded at the same instant, and I didn’t need to use my hand anymore, since I was hard within seconds. God, I thought to myself truthfully, I want this sex more than anything I have wanted in a long time. My 9-inch cock felt painfully hard and ready for fucking.
“I’m ready,” I stated, in a voice that surprised me with its huskiness.
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