Simon has unwittingly become a recurring theme in their phone sex fantasies. Claire’s fantasies in particular have become very much more vivid recently…
***
The last week of Simon’s placement was due to start on the Monday but unusually, he had planned his arrival by a very early train on Monday morning. This meant I wouldn’t get to see him at all during the week because I myself had to fly back out to Brazil on an equally early morning flight.
Simon had returned to the house after work in time to help with dinner, looking and feeling elated – the report from his placement had been enthusiastic and he was hoping for a ‘first’ in his degree and a permanent job after graduation. He had been effusive in his thanks to Claire for all her help.
This I learned when I called Claire on Monday night, lying naked on my bed, imagining her equally naked on our double bed at home. I listened to the story of her day with eagerness, wondering how Simon’s gratitude might manifest itself.
"So did you do more than kiss this time?"
There was a pleasing pause and I ran my hand up and down my erect cock as I awaited the answer, not sure what I wanted to hear.
"Umm, yes. We did,” she finally said.
“What did you let him do?”
“He... I let him strip me naked after I gave him the blow job," Claire said.
“Completely naked?”
“Completely naked.”
“Where?”
“In the lounge.”
“In the lounge?”
“Yes.”
“What about the kids?”
“They were asleep. It was late.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he lick you... down there?”
“What? Oh God! Tim! How can you ask that?”
“Did he?” I insisted.
“Well….Yes he did!” she raised her voice excitedly. I could hear her fingers moving over her body in the background.
"Jesus! Did you let him fuck you?" I asked.
"NO!” she protested. “No I didn’t let him!” There was a pause but I was sure I could hear her fingers still working on her body.
“Did he make you cum?”
“Oh God, I'm so turned on!" she eventually said, her voice slightly slurred. "No. I didn’t come! After he had licked me a couple of times, I realised that if I let him make me cum with his tongue I'd have to let him fuck me too. I’m not ready for that so I made him stop!"
This was the furthest, most realistic scenario we had ever played. My erection actually hurt!
"Oh, why did you make him stop? Don't you want to fuck him?" I pleaded.
"I can't!" she cried. "He's just a kid! I’m married to you! I can't let him fuck me!"
"Why not? I know you love me. I love you, but I think you’ve fallen in love with Simon too; or at the very least in lust!”
I paused, the idea in my mind almost too much to speak aloud.
“This is the most amazing scenario I can ever imagine! Go ahead and fuck him, Claire! God, just imagining you two together is almost making me cum!" I said. “It’s no sin if I say it’s okay, is it? Just make sure you tell me all about it!”
"I'm not going to let him fuck me!" she said before she hung up abruptly, leaving me to finish myself off all alone, my head spinning.
The next night was Tuesday and I called quite late.
“Well? Did you do it?” I asked eagerly. “What happened?”
“We put the kids to bed as usual...”
“Go on!” I urged.
“I undressed myself before doing it to him this time.”
“Did you let him touch you again?”
“I wouldn't let him touch my pussy, but he could tell how wet I was between my thighs.”
“Did he touch you at all?” I insisted.
“Oh yes!”
“Where?”
“Mostly my boobs and my bum.”
“Did you cum?”
“No. Whenever I got close to coming, I made him stop."
"Is his cock big?" I asked.
“You already asked me that!”
“Tell me again… please!” I insisted.
"He's longer than you, but skinnier. I can get all of him down my throat if I really try," she said.
"When he cums, is there a lot of semen?" I asked.
"Loads! It’s hard to swallow it all!“
"You swallowed?”
“Yes I swallowed.”
“Wow! Just imagine how it would feel spraying onto your cervix!" I said.
"I've proved that I can resist fucking him, and I'm hanging up now," she said, then hung up, leaving me to finish myself off alone.
On Wednesday night, I got a 'busy' tone when I called. It was still busy when I called again in ten minutes. I called periodically until eleven o'clock Brazil time which was around three a.m. in London when Claire finally picked up the phone.
"Tim, is that you?" she asked, her voice sounded dreamy as if she was half drunk or half asleep.
"Yes," I replied. There was a long pause. "We did it," she stated simply, her words definitely slurred.
"You fucked him," I said.
"Oh yes," her voice was soft and gentle, “and he fucked me. God! He fucked me!”
“Is he still there?”
“No. He’s in his bedroom. I didn’t want the kids to know.”
My chest was tight and my heart was thumping with fear and excitement.
"Then tell me all about it," I demanded, “From the beginning.”
“But Tim...” she began to protest.
“You promised me, Claire,” I insisted.
She sighed then, with many long breaths and pauses, reluctantly told me about her day.
After the previous evening’s close encounter, Tuesday night for Claire had been filled with erotic dreams. She couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me the details but when she woke up on Wednesday morning and gone into the shower, she had felt a heat between her thighs that she hadn’t felt for a long time.
She had managed not to touch herself, hoping that keeping sex off her mind during the day would help her resist Simon in the evening. However, she had been denied a proper orgasm for several days and her pussy seemed constantly aroused and wet.
She had had to change her panties after taking the kids to school, the rubbing of her tight jeans being too arousing for her sensitive vulva.
She had had to change them again before lunch. This time she had put on a short skirt to prevent any further titillation of her most private parts.
But this hadn’t worked. The feel of cool air on her bare legs and damp vulva had aroused her still further and she had felt compelled to change once again before picking up the kids from school, this time into a longer skirt and tights. But by now her vulva was so inflamed that even this couldn’t take her attention away from her arousal and she was on her fourth pair of panties for the day when Simon arrived home.
From the moment she opened the door, she had known the outcome was inevitable. In his skin-tight shorts and close fitting top, Claire had found him utterly irresistible. Although she had greeted him with the usual peck on the cheek, then a short but passionate kiss on the lips, she had known she'd been lying to herself.
She was going to fuck him.
That night.
In our house.
She had tried to keep her distance during dinner with the kids, half worried that if she let him get too close, she'd tear off his clothes and hers, and fuck him there and then in front of them all. The clocks in the house ticked oh-so-slowly as she waited impatiently for the kids' bedtime to arrive, her inflamed vulva feeling the slightest movement of her panties or the touch of a chair against its lips.
Then, finally, the kids were put into bed, stories read, doors closed. The moment had come.
Claire told me she had calmly taken him by the hand and led him to our bedroom where, without a word, she began to undress in front of him. Simon had immediately taken the hint and within a minute they were both naked.
Claire had lain down on the bed, her eyes never leaving Simon’s. She had spread her legs brazenly wide – something she had never done even with me - and told him to take her.
No foreplay. No sensitivity. She wanted to be fucked. By him. Now.
He had entered her in a single, deep, powerful stroke, all the way in until she felt the pressure of his swollen end against her cervix and his pubic hair ground against her mound.
“Wow!” I gasped into the phone as she paused, stroking my painfully hard erection. “How did it feel?”
“It felt… I can’t describe it... Oh God Tim! It was so amazing. Apart from you, it’s the only cock that’s ever been inside me…” Her voice trailed off again. “I think I cried a little. I kept thinking of you but still couldn’t stop myself.”
“Did you cum?”
“Almost during his first stroke!”
“Did he cum quickly?”
“Barely a dozen strokes later.”
“Did he cum inside you?”
A long pause, then a deep sigh.
“Yes! Oh God yes!”
“Oh Claire, you really, actually did it!” I almost cheered in my room.
She told me in an exhausted voice how they had done it twice more during the evening before Simon had reluctantly gone to spend what was left of the night in his own bedroom. He had left only minutes before I called and her body was still wet and sticky with his semen.
“So… is he good in bed?” I asked apprehensively.
“Honestly?”
“Honestly!”
“You really want to know?”
“Don’t tease me, Claire! At least, don’t tease me any more.”
“Tim, it was unbelievable! He was so so sooo… good!”
A wave of jealousy washed over me but with it came an even bigger wave of arousal. Claire continued, her voice choking in her throat.
“I thought I was going to die! My chest ached! My belly hurt! I thought I’d never breathe again. I thought I would pee myself! He was just…..”
Her voice faded away and I was left with very mixed emotions and a very sticky belly.
"I just came while you were telling me that," I said, panting. "That's so, so hot!"
There was yet another long pause.
"I'm going to have to let him fuck me again tomorrow, you know that!" Claire said. “I can’t stop myself now!”
"I know! I want to hear all about it!" I replied.
“Tim?” Claire asked, her voice suddenly sober.
“What?” I asked anxiously.
"You have remembered I'm not on the pill, haven’t you?”
“Of course I know. I had the snip and…”
She stopped me short. “Well we didn’t use a condom and there’s a good chance I'm fertile this week.”
I gulped. Suddenly reality hit me. Perhaps this wasn’t a fantasy after all. Or had Claire just taken our telephone sex to a level I never dreamed existed.
Was it all real after all? Jesus!
“Tim? Are you still there? Are you sure you can handle all the consequences?" she asked.
This time, it was my turn for the long pause. My heart thumped and my head spun with the ideas that filled it. I hadn’t given the idea of Claire getting pregnant a moment’s thought.
Eventually I found the words.
"Do it,” I said determinedly, “the worst that can happen is that you fall pregnant.” I paused as if thinking it over carefully but my mind was already made up. “We’ve talked about having another baby – maybe even two now the kids are older.”
“But it wouldn’t be yours,” she reminded me unnecessarily. “Could you live with that?”
I paused even longer before replying, scarcely able to believe my own words.
“If you want it then I want it,” I waited listening to my wife’s heavy breathing down the phone, "but are you sure YOU can handle it? It'll be your body the baby would be growing in!"
"I have no idea, truly I don’t,” she replied. “I just know that I… I can’t help myself, Tim. I just can’t!"
There was a pause but she didn’t seem to want to hang up.
"I'll have to change the sheets soon. They’re getting a bit stained.”
My heart leapt. It hadn’t crossed my mind that my there could be real evidence for me to see; real solid proof. A terrible idea occurred to me.
"Don't change them," I said, "I want to see the messy sheets. Keep the windows closed too!"
"But the bedroom already really smells like sex! It will leak into the rest of the house," she said.
"Oh wow! I can't wait!” I gasped, amazed at how much the idea was arousing me. “I wish I could feel his sperm still inside you when I fuck you!"
"I never imagined you were so kinky, Tim!"
“So don’t clean yourself too thoroughly either,” I went on, amazed at my terrible thoughts. “I want to see the evidence on you too!”
“If I don't douche, I'm pretty sure he'll get me pregnant," she said.
"Good! I hope he does knock you up!"
What was I saying? Had I gone mad with lust?
"Can I at least shower? I'm pretty sticky," she asked.
"Yes, just don't douche until after I get the chance to fuck you," I said. “In fact, can you use a tampon to hold it all in?”
“What?” she exclaimed. “You really ARE kinky.”
“Will you?”
“I’ll... I’ll think about it. I’m so tired now!”
“Claire?”
“Mmm?” she replied, her voice dreamy again.
“I love you!” I whispered.
“I love you too, Tim!”
The following night I called very late, still unsure in my mind how I felt about it all.
I had never been as aroused as when I pictured my lovely wife giving herself willingly to another man, and I felt terribly guilty about it. Was it all just an amazing fantasy or was it actually real? And what sort of man was I? At times I couldn’t bear the thought of Claire being fucked by anyone other than me; at other times all I wanted was to watch her have a shattering orgasm at another man’s hands.
When Claire answered, her voice was low and she sounded slightly drunk.
“Hi, Darling.”
“Mmmm! Hi, Tim!”
“Did you… do it again?”
“Mmmm! Yes we did.”
“Tell me all about it. You promised, remember?”
"Well okay, but I’m sooo tired!”
“Claire, you promised!”
She seemed to pull herself together a little before carrying on in a more stable voice.
"Okay! We went for a run, then to a new pub by the river. We had a bite to eat then danced to the band."
"What were you wearing?"
"My short red dress; the one you say shows my knickers!"
"Did it show them?"
"No. They were in my handbag!"
"Did Simon touch you while you danced?"
"Yes, his hands were all over my bottom."
"What happened when you got home?"
“I took him to our room again. We made love for a long time on the bed. The sheets are filthy now!”
“Great! Don’t change them,” I hissed. "What did he do to you?”
“Well, after fucking me on the bed, he took me through to the dining room and fucked me on the table, then again from behind while I was bent over the back of the sofa. I think he didn’t like the dirty sheets."
“Jesus, Claire! What if the kids had woken up and seen you?”
“Oh God! I didn’t think about that! We were so wrapped up in ourselves.”
“I can tell,” I replied, “and I love hearing all about it but if it’s true, you must be careful! Thank God we live in an old house with thick walls!”
“I’ll lock the door next time,” she said.
‘Next time?’ I wondered as I finished myself off messily and we blew each other goodnight kisses.
When I next called, well after midnight on Friday night, it was Simon’s last night in London. Claire’s voice was soft and unsteady as if she was drunk and was hardly capable of telling me what had happened. Eventually after a lot of persuasion she began to tell me the details.
"Oh Tim… he fucked me so much... I just need to sleep now!”
“Where did he fuck you, Claire?”
“On the kitchen countertop, on your chair in the living room…”
“Is that all?”
“No,” she sighed as if struggling to stay awake, “he fucked me over the arm of the sofa too.”
I loved the crude way she spoke about it; so unlike the Claire I had known for so long.
“Wow, Claire. Was it good?”
“Mmmm.”
“Did you cum?”
“Mmmm.”
“Was that all?”
“We had one last fuck in our bed.”
There was our usual pause during which I rubbed my erection faster and faster.
“Tim?”
“Ugh… ugh…what honey?”
“Tim, there are stains everywhere now and the kids must be wondering what’s going on. You know how they think I’m obsessed with cleaning up.”
Oh my God! My erection actually hurt it was so hard.
“Why are you whispering?” I asked.
“Because he’s still here; he’s sleeping in our bed with me as if it’s his last night.”
“What about the kids?”
“He’ll get up really early, before they wake up. Don’t worry; the door’s locked too.”
“Will you fuck him again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m so sore.”
“Claire?”
“What?”
“This is real, isn’t it? It isn’t just another fantasy – a really, really good one?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“I think so but…”
“Well you’ll have to keep guessing until you see me tomorrow. I’m going back to bed.”
“With him?”
“Oh God I hope so…”
And she put the phone down.
Alone in my hotel room I finished myself off quickly, my mind full of images of my lovely wife on our bed, her legs spread wide, Simon’s slim, toned buttocks moving up and down between them.
And her cries of orgasm…
I returned home on Saturday evening arriving just before dinner, London time. Claire and the kids picked me up at Heathrow airport, my wife wearing a short, brightly coloured summer dress. She looked fresh, sweet and innocent; a far cry from the sex-crazed girl I had spoken to on the phone during the week.