I’d never seen my wife even kiss another man, but the way she went at it with Gerry the truck driver left me breath less, sitting watch ing in the corner of the sleeper in his cross-country truck. Kristin was nude next to him, legs spread, breasts against his chest, mouth pressed to his. He slid a finger in her pussy, and after kissing her awhile climbed on her. She guid ed his ample erection in.
I watched him plow her as she pushed her hips up to meet every thrust. When he came, she held his hips to her, making sure he emptied his load in her. When he finished ejaculating, she helped him off her. While he rested on his side, she bent over and cleaned his dick with a surprisingly expert tongue.
This was last year while we were driving through the Pacific Northwest. She had gone in the restaurant while I parked. When I came in, she was sitting at the bar sip ping a drink, looking impatient and uncomfortable. She fidgeted with the napkin while she looked around.
As she took another sip, staring out the window, I approached from the other direction and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Only if you understand it won’t get you anything more than casual conversation,” she answered coldly.
It was a game we’d never played, but I sat next to her and ordered us drinks, then looked her up and down. She’s far better-looking than she’s ever given herself credit for, plus she was uncomfortable in the minidress that I’d talked her into wearing. When she told me I could expect nothing, she sat up, looking more assertive, in control.
“I haven’t seen you in here before,” I said. “Are you with anyone?”
“No one who matters,” she said, holding her glass up, looking uninterested. My pickup line seemed to energize her. She finally looked me over with disdain. “If you think that’s smooth and sexy, think again. I’ve been hit on by the best, and mister, you are far from that.”
“At least I have a nice car,” I said. “Do you like Fer raris?” I was looking out the window at our Camry in the lot.
“I guess that’s something,” she snapped, “if you’re not lying. I suppose you have a wife somewhere who doesn’t get to ride in the Ferrari.”
“Touch ,” I said, nodding. “So what would it take?” She turned toward me, her brow furrowed. “I mean, to get more from you than unpleas ant conversation? Clearly a free drink won’t do it.”
“You have to be creative, spontaneous, willing to take chances,” she said.
One thing I never thought of my wife as was a risk-tak er. I couldn’t remember the last thing she did without hours of planning, discussing, rethinking. The woman I was chatting up seemed nothing like that. “And being those things might get me more than a drink?” I said.
“We’ll see,” she said, look ing me up and down, laughing, making me feel insecure. She asked what I want ed “other than a drink.”
“I’d like to see what’s under that pretty little dress you’re wearing,” I said, displaying more audacity than I’ve ever managed in real life.
“Your wife know you’re out hitting on women in a bar?” she said, lifting one leg over the other Sharon Stone-style and striking a seductive pose. “She know you like looking up women’s skirts?”
I looked at her hem, trying to catch a peek. The bottom of her dress was raised just about to the top of her thigh, giving anyone in front of her a good look between her legs. I saw the white triangle of panties. I’d never been able to do that in public.
I told her my wife would be fine with our socializing, as she’s wonderfully un der standing and self-assured.
“I hope you’re right.”
Nodding at her wedding band, I asked if her husband was cool with her drinking with a stranger at a bar. “Oh God, no,” she said. “He’s a fucking tyrant.” She smiled over her drink. “But I don’t care what the asshole thinks. I have sex with who I want, when I want. But don’t get your hopes up. If I fuck any one today, it won’t be you.”
I noticed the cross-country truck in the parking lot near the road, with a young, handsome trucker at the wheel. Though it had started to rain hard, a bit of spon ta neity bolted into my head. I said, “I’m hitching a ride with him, wherever he’s headed. Care to come? Or was that spontaneity stuff just talk?”
She drained her drink, grabbed her purse and said, “Let’s go, Loverboy.” Knowing she’d chicken out, I followed her out. She held her purse over her head but got soaked anyway racing for the truck. She even walked different .
“What’s your name?” I called, jogging behind her through the rain.
“Honey,” she called back over her shoulder. “Yours?”
“Trace,” I shouted over the rain, recalling a charac ter from a Louis L’Amour novel.
She turned, sized me up and shook her head. “I’ll just call you Lover boy.”
“Could a wet female get a ride?” Honey said, looking up at the driver, her nipples show ing through the soaked, nearly transparent dress, hair plastered to her face. He just smiled down at her. I couldn’t believe how sexy she looked standing there drenched.
“What about him?” the driver said. “He with you?”
“Not really,” she said, “but I guess he needs a ride too.”
The driver waved us into the cab. Honey climbed in—her panties, exposed by the step up, clinging to her ass cheeks. I followed. We tried to sit together in the passen ger seat. There was a large space for the gearshift between the seats.
“You won’t be able to ride far like that,” the trucker said, “and we can’t have you getting everything wet. But if the little lady’ll climb in back, on the hooks in the sleeper com partment are dry sweats you can put on. They’re clean.”
Now I couldn’t imagine Kristin doing such a thing, but Honey climbed on back on her hands and knees, ex posing her transparent pant ies to the trucker, whose eyes stayed glued to them as she made her way back. She turned around facing him and without closing the curtain between the sleeper and the cab stripped off her wet dress, bra and, finally, panties! She sat naked smil ing at him.
Usually, good-looking men made Kristin self-conscious and nervous. But Honey was totally possessed, exhibiting herself to the hunk. Finally she slipped on a dry sweatshirt with a zipper down the front and a hood. She didn’t zip it up. She just left it open.
“Is there someplace I can let these dry?” she said, hand ing him her soaked panties. Kristin was so modest about underwear and lingerie, she avoided buying them from a male salesperson, but Honey had no such compunctions, grinning as he admired her panties. She was going out of her way to shock the guy.
He took the panties and with a broad grin kissed and smelled them, then set them on the dash. She climbed back into the cab, still naked except for the hoodie, and straddled the gearshift. She kept her legs open, casually showing off her curly pubic patch. She put her feet up on the dash, enjoying the hot air from the heater over her bare slit while also allow ing a better view.
I had never seen Kristin nude in anyone else’s presence, but Honey seemed to love showing off her body to the hand some trucker. See ing him relish the view between her bare thighs, she opened them even wider. I retreated to the sleeper and changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt I found on a shelf. She asked the guy his name. When he said Gerry, she said, “Ooh, like Jerry Lewis! Funny man!” Kristin hates Jerry Lewis.
“No, Gerry with a “‘G,’ for Gerald,” he said.
“Well, Gerry With a G for Gerald, how far you going?” she almost purred.
“Seattle,” he said.
“What would a girl have to do to get us that far?” she said, looking over at me. I noticed that Gerry had adjusted his mirror, down a bit. I guess there was something down there he wanted to be able to look at. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Won’t take nothing, really,” he said. “Long as you don’t mind cuddling up to a horny trucker for two nights. It’s close quarters in back.”
“The hornier the better, I always say,” Honey said.
“And your friend’s okay with that?” he said.
“My friend?” she said. “Oh, him. Trace, he calls him self. I figure he’s okay with anything I’m okay with.”
“Honey, you know there’s a pair of sweatpants back there,” Gerry said, trying to divert his eyes from her bare snatch, a losing battle.
“That’s all right, handsome,” she said. “You may have noticed that Honey’s not a modest girl.” Well, Kris tin sure was! “If you don’t mind me being comfortable, I don’t mind you looking.” And grinning, she pulled her knees up a little higher, smil ing at my astonishment.
“Don’t mind a bit,” he said, looking in his rear-view. “You can ride bare-ass in my cab anytime you like, Hon ey.”
When I looked in her direction, she opened her legs even more, taunting me. For some reason, I guess since it was Honey doing it, not my wife, I wasn’t jealous. I even began to enjoy watching the seduction unfold. I realized I had an erection from it! I still wondered, though, how I’d react if Honey fucked Gerry. But I laughed for even thinking my wife might do that.
Suddenly, Honey looked my way and grinned, then got to her knees and draped her self over Gerry’s shoulder, kiss ing him as he drove. “Can I be honest with you?”
He smiled and nodded.
“I want to suck your cock,” she whispered loudly.
Gerry blushed and looked my way. She saw him doing it and said, “Trace has nothing to say about it.” She put her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed his neck. “Could you pull off the road? I’m incredibly horny.”
He looked over his shoulder, and they kissed. Soon we came to a rest stop, and Gerry pulled off the road.
“I could fall for you, big guy,” she said, flabbergasting me. Honey was so bold and sexual and unpredictable. Was this really part of my wife? How could it not be? But how had I missed it? Then there was the more immediate question: Just how far would Honey go?
She climbed in back and beckoned for Gerry to follow. She helped him out of his jeans, tossed them aside, then fished his erection out of his shorts. She took off the hoodie so she was nude, then pulled back the covers and positioned him on his back. She gestured me to come back with them! I did, then tried to get comfortable.
“Oh my!” Honey exclaimed as she admired Gerry’s very large erection. “I do believe I have found a gold mine.”
As Honey sucked on Ger ry, she motioned me closer, then fished my erection out of my sweats and caressed it. Rarely did Kristin perform oral sex on me, but Honey went at it with profes sional expertise. She finished Gerry off, keeping her mouth over his big cock to catch all of the come she could on her tongue, lips and face.
When she finished cleaning off Gerry’s shaft like a porn star, she looked up and smiled. “Hope you don’t mind, Trace,” she said, “but I’ll be fucking Gerry tonight. You can watch if you like.”
Gerry, spent, rolled over on his back. “I guess I have to revive him,” she cooed. I was amazed she had gone through with sucking the trucker. Now I didn’t know what to think, or expect.
“Should I leave you two alone?” I asked.
“Not necessary,” Honey said. “You just have to watch tonight. I’ll reward you later.”
Kristin had never had sex with any man besides me, but Honey had just given oral sex like a pro—and apparently intended to screw him all night. We usually had sex with the lights off, but tonight there would be enough light for me to watch them fuck.
She kissed Gerry, then attended to his soft cock. “You know,” she said to me, “if you hadn’t picked me up in that bar, I’d have never found this sweet man and his tasty erection.” When the tasty erection was restored, she eased her self down on it. He pushed up in her. I kept telling myself it wasn’t Kristin, so it was OK.
“Gerry,” she said, “it’s going to be just you and me tonight. Trace looks pretty lonely over there, doesn’t he? He’ll have to just watch.”
Gerry said he thought it wasn’t fair, but his heart real ly wasn’t in his objection. She said fairness had nothing to do with it, I was just along for the ride. I sat in the corner as instructed and duti fully watched my wife, I mean Honey, fuck her trucker.
The first time, they went at it for nearly half an hour. After he came for the second time that night, she climbed off him and he put his arms around her and they kissed. With me right there in the sleeper with them.
Honey moved her lips down Gerry’s muscled abs, then worked his cock till he was hard again. She got on her back and helped him enter her again. He picked up the pace, hitting bottom with each thrust. I couldn’t take my eyes off the spot where his cock slid in her.
After she came, groaning, she climbed off Gerry, knelt on the bed by him and lowered her mouth over his limp dick, licking it clean for the third time that night.
I had never seen an erection as large as Gerry’s, and I’d never seen a woman suck a man right next to me. As she licked and sucked him back to life, I realized that I was falling in love with lusty Honey! Her brashness, her zest, her infectious sexuality captivated me. Could I be in love with two different women? Who were really parts of the same woman?
In the morning, after Gerry and Honey had repeated sex while I watched or dozed, we dressed in the sleeper, un-self-conscious about being nude together. Honey put on her short blue dress without bra or panties, and we went for breakfast to a place Gerry frequented on his trips.
He got down from the cab, then helped Honey down. As the three of us entered the restaurant arm in arm, Honey announced in a care free voice: “I’m starving. Our driver wore me out last night.” I was sure she wanted to be heard by all the customers.
She ordered a big slice of banana cream pie. “You never know,” she said with a grin, “I could die before I get to dessert.” As we ate, she flirted with all the men around our table, pulling her hem as high as it would go, leaving a clear view of her uncovered pubic patch.
As we left the restaurant, she informed us that back on the road I should drive while she pleasured Gerry in the sleeper. He showed me the ins and outs of driving a semi, then crawled in back and had sex with Honey while I drove. They made a point of doing it on top of the covers so I could watch in the rear-view mirror.
About a hundred miles out of Seattle, Honey said it was my turn and waved me back to the bed. Gerry took over the wheel, and I crawled back with her. She stretched out with her legs opened wide and smiled, waiting for me to do my part. I cuddled up to my wife, who’d fucked the driver for about 750 miles. Slipping in her pussy, I whis pered, “I love you, Honey.”
“Of course you do,” she purred. “But what would your wife say?” She let out a taunting chuckle.
“I’m not sure,” I said, “but Gerry seems to feel the same way I do about both of you.”
“Yes, Trace,” she said, “and I love Gerry. I like you too.” We laughed. For the first time, I was free of jealousy.
Honey sat between Gerry and me the last 50 miles to Seattle with her feet on the dash and her legs apart, allowing whoever was driving to touch her while shifting. In addition, we both fucked her constantly in the sleeper.
When we finally said good-bye to Gerry, Honey stood on the truck’s running board on her toes, her dress hiked so high in back, it exposed part of her bare bottom to passing cars, and kissed him through the open driver’s-side window—a kiss for the books. I think I enjoyed it as much as Gerry did.
“I’m meeting Gerry in Chi cago in March,” Honey announced, “to ride with him to San Francisco.” I smiled, knowing Honey would do as she pleased. Actu ally, I was fine with her announcement. Kristin would need to ask for approval, but not Honey.
When the bus dropped us off near the restaurant where our car was, Honey stood in her sexiest pose on the pas senger side, smiling over the top of the car at me, then blew me a kiss. I knew it was a good-bye kiss.
It was a Camry not a Fer rari we returned to, still loaded with our stuff. I unlocked the door and got in, and Kristin slid in the other side, demure and proper as ever.
While we were riding, I looked at her and asked, “Where’s Honey?”
“Gone on,” she said with a smile, “but she may join us later along the way.”
“I hope she does,” I said. “I like her.”
“So do I,” she said sighing.
Sometimes now while we have sex Honey returns and helps out. I love it! Kristin and I have never talked about what she did with Ger ry, but we talk freely about what Honey did, how impetuous she was and how much fun she was to get to know. —F.T., Cedar Rapids, Iowa