I look at my wife, catching her as she exchanges a look with the good looking boy. He’s across the room, sitting at another table with a woman I assume is his mother.
The feeling stirs in my guts, the odd desire tingling down near my balls, cock thick a few seconds after catching Moira’s expression. I know it’s on, can tell by the way my wife squirms against her chair, lie she’s rubbing the itch in her pussy.
I can almost smell her lust wafting up from that place between her legs. My cock gets even stiffer as I imagine how wet she’ll be down below, her underwear sodden.
Then it gets worse as I wonder if she’ll leave her knickers behind.
Just as I expect her to, Moira stands up to make an excuse. “I just need to pop to the…” she murmurs at me, leaving her destination unsaid, as though she’s too prudish to say the word toilet or loo.
I nod my head and pretend to concentrate on the steak, cutting a slice while surreptitiously watching the boy.
There he goes, right on cue. It’s as though Moira is pulling his strings.
I give them a moment or two, then put down the knife and the fork, dabbing my lips with the napkin before standing.
There’s a choice, a dilemma, which did she choose? I think about I for a few seconds, then go for the Gents, assuming the boy would be more comfortable using that venue.
When I get in, I see there’s a cubicle door closed, the sound from within abruptly silenced when the main door slides shut with a shuck at its seal.
I make pretend I’m at the urinal, unzipping and actually pissing a stream before pushing my cock back within and washing my hands. Then, after opening the door but remaining inside the convenience, I move to the cubicle neighbouring there’s, going quietly, sneaking inside like a burglar inside a house.
“You’re lovely,” I hear my wife say.
“What if someone comes in?” he responds.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ve bolted the door. All we have to do is keep quiet.”
Moira cuts in with, “Is stuffing his face. Now, shut up and get it out. We don’t have much time and…
“Oh, Jesus,” she gasps. “Would you just look at that thing!”
I can only assume she’s pleased by his size, an opinion Moira reinforces by babbling, “I usually just wank them…” There’s a pause in which I can only envisage she’s stroking his length. “But,” Moira continues, breathless and obviously getting carried away, “I want to feel this one inside me.”
“You’re crazy,” he says, but still moans out his pleasure. “Wuh-what are you doing?”
“Getting it slick,” she informs him. By which I know means she’s going to use her mouth on his dick.
There’s some shuffling next door, my mind’s eye conjuring up an image of my wife taking a seat on the toilet, the boy standing before her with his erection waggling about.
His groan tells me Moira’s lips are pursed round his cock, her fingers working his root. I know what it’s like to have my wife sucking my cock, her tongue quick over the head as she rubs at her pussy.
The image is there, her skirt up round her waist, knickers taut down at her ankles, face distorted by the lump of male gristle she has in her mouth.
And I bet she’s looking into his face, holding his stare with her own as she slobbers and sluprs at his meat.
“Shit,” my wife mutters. “Do you have a condom with you?”
I hear him grunt out a no, a snort coming from Moira.
Then, her tone all urgent and anguished, my wife floors me by saying, “Fuck it; I don’t care … just put it in anyway.”
“Yuh-you’re sure,” gasps the boy.
“God yes, put it in. Just fuck me. I’m so fucking horny…”
A sinker of despair plummets south. My wife is taking the boy bare, his cock inside her body with no protection at all.
And I know for a fact she’s completely vulnerable to his seed. My wife isn’t using any form of contraception, hasn’t for years.
I hear the sounds of their rutting, Moira whining and groaning while he grunts and mumbles about how wet he’s found her.
“You’re soaking,” he groans, the thwacking of flesh reaching me as I hide next door and yank at my cock. “So fucking wet.”
“I’m just so horny,” my wife says with a gasp. “I can’t help it, I’m always this way.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, the tone of his voice telling me he’s close to the end.
It seems Moira realises he’s not going to last. “Don’t do it inside me,” she whines.
He grunts and snorts and mumbles something I can’t quite make out, then my wife yelps and breathlessly urges him to take it out.
“You can’t do it inside me!” she cries. “I’m not on the pill. It’s too dangerous, please don’t let go in my pussy.”
If she means it, she doesn’t seem to be doing much to stop him. I listen to my wife gurgling on about him not flooding her cunt with his goo while apparently thrusting back onto his cock, long moans coming out of them both.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs, those words telling me exactly what’s happening. “I’m coming,” he adds.
“Me too,” Moira whines, her voice high-pitched and squealing. “For God’s sake, don’t stop fucking. I don’t care if you fuck a baby in there, just keep on shoving me full of that cock.”
I couldn’t help but let out a sob of my own, spunk splashing against the cubicle wall.
The boy gasps out, “Shit, what was that? There’s someone in here with us,” he adds, fear hissing from him.
My wife says nothing at all in response, the sound of the roller turning rattling between us. Next I hear the flush, a spunk-sodden tissue flushing away, I assume.
“Fuck,” the boy mutters when the door to their cubicle creaks open. “Where are you going?” he asks.
Again, there’s no response from my wife, and a few seconds later I hear the shuck of the main door.
When I get back to the table after wiping myself clean and washing my hands, no sound at all coming from where he’s hiding away, Moira looks at me as cool as you like. “Finish your steak, dear,” she tells me.
And, like the good boy I am, I do as I’m told, knowing I won’t say a word about the other man’s cum when she allows me inside her when we get home.