SLEEP MASK FINGER FUCK SHOW [FMM] [Str8]

SLEEP MASK FINGER FUCK SHOW

Ryan opened the door. Stephen smiled on the other side, waving a bottle of wine. “I’m early, if that’s okay. I underestimated your competent public transit system.”

“Dude, by an hour! Come in, man. Danielle is just taking a nap.”

They stepped into the living room. Danielle was laying on the sofa, a sleep mask over her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and her nipples were almost visible through the white tee which was bunched up, exposing her stomach. Her left arm lay across her hip and her hand rested on her white panties.

“What a beauty, right?” Ryan said when he noticed that Stephen’s eyes were clearly locked on his wife.

“I’d love to come home to that every night, lucky man,” Stephen said quietly.

“Sit,” he motioned to the recliner chair directly facing the sofa, “I’ll open the wine.”

Stephen sat and took in beautiful Danielle’s body and state of dress. He was mesmerized, barely registering the pop of the wine cork from the kitchen.

When Ryan returned, he placed three wine glasses and the opened bottle on the coffee table. “She’s a heavy sleeper, but at least she doesn’t snore.”

“Sorry if I’m staring.”

“Ah, it’s all good. Let’s pour that wine.”

. . . . .

Danielle had heard the doorbell ring, and though it woke her from a very good dream, she lay there, faking sleep. She liked to be admired, and she knew her husband and his new work buddy were admiring her. Ryan loved to show her off.

She hadn’t met Stephen yet, but Ryan had told her she’d like him. They invited him over for take-out.

With the sleep mask on she couldn’t see him, but she listened to their hushed conversation. His voice, at least, was not objectionable.

She wondered how long she should play dead, as it were. She hadn’t planned on a first impression of half-naked girl on the couch, but he showed up early and now she wanted to see how far she could take it. Ryan most certainly would not mind a little game. They both liked games, and she hoped Stephen would, too.

. . . . .

Stephen was talking about his first few months in the city, having moved here from the Midwest. He didn’t know anyone in town yet outside of work. Getting a job was priority number one, and being hired at the software company was a godsend. Ryan took him under his wing, and they had clicked.

“I like the city, so far. Of what I’ve seen, at least.”

Ryan smiled, “And what interesting things have you seen so far? Besides my beautiful wife sprawled out before you, that is?”

She imagined Stephen blushing at that, then tried to imagine the face that might go with his voice, tried to match it to an actor. Tom Hardy, maybe. Yes, she could use that.

She shifted slightly, as one might do in sleep, and gave her fingers a little twitch to complete the illusion. Maybe she should have gone into acting.

She wanted to take it up a notch now. She sure hoped he was good looking. Maybe Tom Hardy was setting the bar too high. Though, she quite enjoyed imagining Tom Hardy sitting there.

She kept her movements subtle, sliding her left hand under the elastic of her panties, touched herself, felt the wetness already between her lips. A breath like a quiet sigh escaped her mouth.

“Uh, should we wake her,” Stephen asked, and she almost broke character with a smile.

“She does that sometimes when she sleeps,” Ryan said. “Hey, I’m gonna go find those menus. Another bottle of wine, too. Be right back.”

She heard him get up, walk to the kitchen. She moved her right hand to her breasts.

. . . . .

Stephen crossed his legs to hide the erection. He watched as sleeping Danielle moved her hand gently under her panties. Her other hand was under her shirt, and her right breast was exposed, a perfect soft nipple pointing towards him.

He wasn’t sure if he should get up and join Ryan in the kitchen. Clearly, Ryan didn’t mind him admiring his wife, but now she was doing things that perhaps she’d be mortified by if she knew he was watching. If Ryan came back into the room, would he wake her up and chastise her, or worse, tell him to leave? He didn’t want to jeopardize his new friendship with Ryan.

But he was transfixed. And obviously aroused. He longed to reach over and touch her. He imagined unzipping himself, putting himself inside of her. It was almost unbearable.

. . . . .

She wanted to rip off her clothes.

The sleep mask, like a blindfold, amplified every electric tingle in her body, and she could almost hear her body buzzing.

The slow, steady movement of her finger on her clit was like thunder building inside the soft pillowy cloud of her sex, and she knew that her storm was about to break.

She was about to give up the game. The time for restraint had passed. Lightning was going to scorch her field.

. . . . .

Stephen watched as Danielle arched her back, then brought her knees up, and using both hands, she slipped off her underwear. His heart was racing.

She sat up and spread her legs, facing him almost directly, flicking her index finger with intent, her middle finger inside of her. She pushed her shoulders hard into the sofa back, so hard it lifted her from the cushions. She was moaning now, her white teeth bared, both breasts exposed.

It was like this was a show just for him. He felt like he was in the audience of that early motion picture, seeing the train coming right at him, about to break through the screen.

He was so incredibly hard, and he touched himself through his pants. Where was Ryan?

. . . . .

Danielle felt it coming fast now. She almost called out his name — Stephen’s name. Tom Hardy’s face. The stranger watching her.

. . . . .

Ryan stood in the archway from the kitchen. His wife was putting on a fantastic show. He wanted to tell Stephen it was okay, he could take his obviously hard cock out and jerk off to her. But he also liked the idea that Stephen didn’t know he was watching.

He knew the way her body worked and he could tell she was about to cum. He didn’t want to break the moment for any of them.

. . . . .

Danielle’s chest heaved, and ecstasy sounded from her. Staccato moans reached higher in pitch, and then sustained. A crescendo. Every nerve a whole orchestra.

. . . . .

Stephen pressed his palm against himself, his cock pushing hard against his clothing. He watched Danielle writhe and shudder as she climaxed, cumming hard, then go slack.

Her legs open, she let her hand drop, giving him his first full view of her pussy, her meaty labia glistening red, curtaining around her openness which he could swear was visibly throbbing.

She raised her hand to her face, lifted the sleep mask and looked directly at him with misty blue eyes. His heart stopped, fearing he’d been caught, that she would be furious to find him sitting there, watching.

But she smiled a long pleasured smile, a smile that said what she saw was good.

“Hi, Stephen,” she said softly, pleasantly, even, “I’m Danielle. I’m starving, let’s order some food.”

THE END

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/o0klzg/sleep_mask_finger_fuck_show_fmm_str8