My Wife or a Whore 1 - Sex Stories

My Wife or a Whore 1

... way she walked I didn't recognize. Maybe I was imagining things. There was a spring in her step I didn't remember. It was like she was extra pleased to have me back home. That wasn't one of my longer trips, only three days; most of them were five days. I put my suitcase in the back seat. As I headed for the driver's seat, she stopped me insisting she should drive because I had just had a long trip. I was a little tired, so I didn't argue. I looked her over as I got into the passenger seat. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," I said still a bit confused. "You seem a little different somehow."

"Different? How?"

"I don't know. You seem bouncier."

"I do have a little surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise. You'll figure it out. I thought we should go out for dinner tonight, but that's not the surprise."

"That sounds good to me." She started the engine and drove to the pay booth. As she pulled onto the highway, I asked, "Any calls while I was gone?"

"There was one from the outfit in Dayton. They want a training manual for their system."

"That should be simple. I have all their basic information already. Is that the surprise?"

"No, it's personal in nature." Her smile was becoming devilish. She was definitely having fun teasing me.

She parked the car in front of our favorite restaurant, Lord Winston's. I started out of the car, but she stopped me and pulled off my tie and unbuttoned my shirt collar. "Leave your ...

... jacket in the car, too," she said, "and those nerdy pens."

I still didn't know what she was up to, but I was certain it would be fun. As I opened the restaurant door, I suddenly remembered something. "I didn't get my welcome home kiss at the airport," I said. Nancy put her arms around my neck as my arms encircled her waist. Her kiss was tender and sensual. My dick stirred as her lips caressed mine. As I opened my eyes, I glanced at her cleavage and notice she was braless. That was totally out of character for her, but it would have been pointless to discuss it when we were at our favorite eating place. Her eyes followed mine for a moment, then she looked into my eyes and smiled. She said nothing as we went inside. The maitré d' greeted us by name; we'd been there often enough for him to know us. Nancy had reserved a secluded booth in a dimly lit corner. He took our wine order and left us to ponder the menu. She wasn't wearing a bra. As I mentioned before, she really doesn't need one. Her dress's material wasn't too thin, but her nipples were outlined through it. She was looking over the menu, but she kept glancing discreetly at me. Just as I was going to put my menu down and demand she tell me what her game was, the waiter came for our order. After he left with the menus, I turned to her. She promptly put her arms my neck and kissed me. "Happy birthday, darling," she cooed. I had completely forgotten my own birthday.

"Okay," I said, "you got me, Is this..." I pointed at ...