Wives with Benefits: Volume Two (22 page)

“I don’t mind you looking,” she said, and I noticed her subtly adjust her own top to make her own cleavage a touch more obvious to me. “It’s only natural, right? And we’re getting married — I’m hardly insecure about our relationship.”

I could be insecure, though. We hadn’t said “I do” just yet.

She was looking at Mr Big again, though, and I suddenly caught the sense that perhaps she hadn’t pushed up her breasts a little for my particular benefit. My stomach gave another little lurch. What was I, jealous? Envious that my wife-to-be wasn’t merely checking out my package, and hoping her breasts caught my eye? Afraid that the guy sitting next to her — or some other guy entirely — would actually notice her, and start hitting on her?

“So you’re okay about guys gawping at you and imagining they’re sleeping with you?” I said, trying to put her shoe on the other foot.

She shrugged. “I don’t care what’s going on in someone else’s head. As long as they don’t get all creepy about it.”

I leaned into her, making doubly sure we weren’t overheard. “So I suppose you’re still sitting there imagining yourself in bed with that guy right now?”

She grinned, wickedly. “Of course.”

I should have been angry, I should have demanded alternative seats. But I was buzzing.

“And how often are you picturing yourself in bed with other guys?”

Another little shrug from Nina. “Every now and then. Depends where I am.”

“On average?”

“Two, maybe three times a day?”

My naughty fiancée imagined herself in bed with other guys two or three times a day? Acid squirted into my stomach — and my cock was so hard, it was threatening to cause some kind of issue inside my pants.

“And who are these guys you’re fantasizing about?” I demanded to know. The teaser for Leonardo DiCaprio’s latest grueling attempt to bag an Oscar lent my question some concealment.

“Just… various guys…”

“People you know?”

“Not usually.”

“But sometimes?”

“Sure. But how often to you imagine doing it with other women?” she smirked, and I had to admit, it was at least once or twice a day — depending on where I was — not including platonic appreciation of strangers in tight leggings.

The lights faded completely, and the murmur of the audience similarly dwindled. I leaned into Nina, to whisper quietly, “Are you going to be able to tear your eyes off that guy’s package long enough to watch the movie?”

With a mischievous grin, she tilted her head this way and that as though unable to give me a firm answer.

Then she leaned over to me to whisper in my ear, “Why, does it make you mad?”

I felt her hand on my thigh, traveling gently but purposefully up toward my crotch, and the way she glanced to her left, to Mr Big, she made it clear she was imagining doing this with the other guy, not me.

“Are you jealous?” she teased, her hand getting ever and ever closer to my burgeoning erection.

“No,” I hissed, not really knowing what to say, particularly as I faced the imminent humiliation of her explorative hand discovering my stiffness.

And then there it was, her fingers brushing up against the thickness of my cock, and only making it harder still. The moment she touched it, and took in what exactly it was that she was touching — and the state in which it was in — Nina let out an involuntary squeal.

I swear, everyone would have looked our way, and perhaps the movie theater staff would put up the lights and call the cops for fear that a woman was being attacked — except that at that very moment, the yellow words “Episode VII” appeared on screen, and everyone else in the theater was suddenly squealing and whooping and cheering as well.

Nina, however, was hardly giving the new Star Wars movie a glance. Her fingers splayed out over the captive form of my hard cock and began to slowly stroke it through the material of my chinos, and my wife leaned into my ear to ask, “And this is because of that blonde up there? Or because of the girl from the lobby?”

She was beaming, ear-to-ear, as though my obvious arousal was proof that I often fantasized about other women — not that I’d really denied I did, of course.

But I earnestly shook my head. “I’m not seventeen years old, you know,” I insisted.

She laughed, a little too loudly I’d say, given that the jubilant mood in the movie theater had settled a little so that people could actually read the yellow text setting the scene for the first Star Wars movie in ten years. She didn’t stop stroking my hardness, however.

“So what is it?” she whispered into my ear.

“You,” I hissed. “You and…”

I flicked my eyes over toward the guy sitting on her other side. He was still sitting as though his package was trying to get better phone reception.

“Jesus, it really is?” she demanded to know.

I said nothing. But my erection throbbed and bucked under her hand, causing her to let out another little squeal — most of which was actually concealed by the orchestral surge as the iconic words ‘Star Wars’ appeared on the screen in front of us.

She scratched at my length with her fingernails, then whispered into my ear, “What if I was imagining doing this to him instead?”

Well how on Earth was I supposed to focus on the movie now?

I was trying, anyway, since I’d been waiting with bated breath for this latest Star Wars to come out ever since the franchise’s original creator, George Lucas, had sold it off to Disney to pave the way for new installments.

At the same time, I couldn’t avoid Nina’s mischievous smile, and when she signaled with her eyes for me to look down, I saw that her own jeans were open at the fly, a hint of her white panties clearly visible. If the guy sitting next to her wasn’t completely enthralled by the movie, he could just glance down and see.

I flashed a silent, terrified warning her way with my eyes, but Nina continued stroking my cock while her other hand grasped mine, pulling it over her thigh, and without ceremony urged me to slip my fingers beneath her damp cotton underwear, where I found her as hot and wet as I’d ever known her.

It was all too much for me — I exploded in my pants. It was highly amusing for my fiancée, though she didn’t allow me to withdraw my hand from her panties until sometime later, when the movie was a good quarter of the way in or so.

I was able to watch the rest of the movie, and I enjoyed it. I’ll be honest, though: that Star Wars movie was slightly spoiled for me. My mind kept drifting back to the idea of my fiancée fantasizing about various guys — two or three times a day — and while it was probably something I assumed happened before, now that she had categorically stated it, it was just there before me.

It wasn’t long before those thoughts started to put the lead back in my pencil, even with the fantastic science fiction action going on in front of me. Probably didn’t help that my fingers smelled of my wife’s fragrant sex.

What the bad guy in the movie eventually did… well, you’ll know what I’m talking about if you’ve seen the movie… I don’t think I can entirely forgive the filmmakers, even if they were trying to give the villain a little more street cred in the realms of the Dark Side… but there in the theater, I was so firmly thinking about Nina’s wandering imagination by that stage, I really wasn’t too bothered by anything in the movie.

As the final stages of the movie played out in front of us, Nina’s drifting hand stumbled on my renewed stiffness, and made her let out a little squeak of surprise and — in my view — delight. It wasn’t a great place in the movie for her to make such a sound, but I think everyone else was so bombed out by the whole experience that they hardly noticed.

Nina, though, grabbed a hold of my shaft through my pants and squeezed. She leaned into me to whisper, “Is that for me, or for Rey?”

She grinned impishly as though she thought it was hot either way, but didn’t let up on my hardness until the movie credits started rolling — and at that stage, she was quickly up on her feet and dragging me out of the theater. We couldn’t talk about the movie, she was leading me out so fast, through the lobby, out into the mall, along and up to the parking lot.

She was on a mission, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what her mission was. It only made me harder still. The surprise was that she didn’t let me get us back home before she made her move — I unlocked the car, stepped up to the driver’s side door, then found myself turned on my feet and slammed back against the vehicle as she thrust herself up against me, her lips finding mine, her hand finding the bulge in my pants.

“Well, are you gonna answer me?” she said, breathless, after a long passionate kiss.

“Answer you?”

“Was that for me, or for Rey?”

“For you,” I said.

“Seriously? She was pretty, though, right?” Nina said, her hands fawning all over the bulge in my pants. “And it’s only fair if you were fantasizing about her.”

My stomach lurched to the right. “Why, because you were fantasizing about Finn?”

“Of course,” she beamed. “Come on, take me home so we can make out some more.”

In the car, the tension in the air didn’t abate just because I had to drive us out of that parking lot and home in the dark, just as it was beginning to rain. Even before we’d left the parking lot, she was leaning over to me to plant her hand back onto my swollen manhood, stroking me through my pants.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” she cooed at it.

With all the heavy traffic around us, I was terrified that Nina would suddenly pull open my pants and take my cock out for all to see. Considering the sudden nature of her attack of the horn, anything was possible.

As though to distract her from doing such a thing, I said, “What’s all this about? You’re not usually so…”

“Horny?” she grinned. “Sure I am.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s just… you know… we gotta be able to talk about this stuff,” she said, a serious tone suddenly emerging. “I don’t want to be that married couple that stops having sex because it gets boring.”

“It won’t get boring,” I insisted. And the fact that my wife was stroking my cock through my pants while I was driving was testament to my point.

“I know,” she smirked. “But you can’t just assume that, and not work at it.”

“We don’t need to ‘work at it’.”

“Not now, we don’t. But if we do, it’ll make it easier later.”

I chuckled. “So you decided to start working on it in the middle of a movie theater?”

“Wasn’t it hot, though?” she laughed.

“Bit of a surprise.”

“You were looking at that girl’s ass!”

“So? I’ve looked at girls’ asses before, and you haven’t said anything — certainly haven’t stuffed my hand down your underwear in a public place.”

Nina said, “It got me going, is all. I was telling you I like to check out other guys sometimes…”

“All the time, apparently.”

“Sometimes… and you got all hard for me… Mmm…”

She pulled her hand away from me, and sat straight in her chair. I glanced over to see what she was up to, and saw her fumbling with her fly button.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, suddenly looking at the cars around us on the freeway, paranoid that some big truck might come along, the driver able to stare down at everything Nina was up to.

Nina lifted her hips and yanked down her jeans until they were mid-thigh. Just far enough so she could put both hands over her pussy.

“Better get me home quick, else more’s coming off,” she warned, then her left hand returned to my lap, to press against my startlingly hard cock, while her left hand began to move over her sex.

“You’ll finish me off before we get there at this rate,” I warned. Fear was tempering my arousal, though. Fear of truck drivers getting an eyeful, fear of traffic cops discovering us, fear that I’d get too distracted on our short drive home to drive in a fully safe manner.

“Then I’ll just have to start you off all over again,” she said, almost purring as she continued to stroke me a little longer.

After a few moments, though, perhaps she was concerned at finishing me prematurely. Her left hand lifted off from me, to join her right hand between her thighs.

I was relieved to see our exit up ahead on the freeway, but another glance over at my fiancée, and she was pulling her jeans off the whole way, over her knees, down her calves, off past her ankles.

“Jesus!” I hissed as she spread her legs and revealed those dainty white panties of hers, all damp with her desire.

“I told you,” she said, her fingers tugging on the thin cotton of her underwear, stretching it this way and that to give me tiny glimpses of what lay beneath. “It’s all coming off if you don’t get us home soon.”

It was seriously hot, watching her sitting there, her hands now stroking her pussy through her panties, fingers gliding along the groove of her sex through the thin cotton, tracing out her topography and tantalizing her audience. Her breathing was already becoming deeper and deeper, and in the close confines of the car I could smell her excitement.

“Seriously,” I said. “You’re sure someone didn’t put a few shots in your soda?”