My wife was bored.
Since we began our stay at home under quarantine three weeks ago, Beatrice has gotten so bored it’s pretty much affecting me too. We have watched too many movies on Netflix, TV re-runs, listened to music over and over, corresponded daily with family members and friends on the phone, inquiring how they were handling the quarantine debacle and such. Beatrice often passed the time with yoga exercises, something she had nearly given up on months ago when she discovered sex with Byron, and still, it wasn’t enough to sate her spirit.
I, too, was having a tough time going about being camped all day indoors. But unlike her, I knew how to be sedentary when I wanted. I had begun taking up painting for a hobby. I had converted a part of the garage into my studio, and several weeks ago went out and purchased additional oil paint canisters, canvases, and helpful books on painting to prepare me for the long haul. We weren’t too concerned about food, except for the usual snacks or dairy products. Our fridge was stacked with soda and liquor, vegetables and snack meals. We were hibernating until whenever the government decided it was okay to come outside and enjoy the sunshine once again. We were both retirees, so neither of us had any jobs to return to once this was over.
What weighed on my mind was what to do calm Beatrice.
I knew what was raging on her mind, what was making her all angsty. Beatrice wanted sex—she craved it like someone demanding a glass of water after a long walk under the sun. She was trying her best to hold it in, but I knew it was only a matter of time before her dam burst. Four weeks have passed since Byron showed up. Like much of the country, we assumed then that this nationwide quarantine was nothing but some political stunt. Even Byron hadn’t believed it, but a lot has changed since then. Byron left to spend time with his ailing mom, though we did keep in touch when we could. It was hard-hitting for Beatrice that he was miles away. Each day her despair seemed to expand. “I can’t take it anymore, Don,” she complained to me one morning during breakfast. She had a pallid outlook about her that told me she was on edge. “I feel like I’m going out of my mind here. I’ve got an itch that needs scratching.”
“How much of an itch are we talking about, dear?” My attempt at jest failed the instant the words left my mouth.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about here,” she screwed her eyes at me.
I tried my best to ease her plight somewhat. I ate her pussy before bedtime; I fucked her with her dildo, sometimes two at a time, even set up her Symbian contraption for her to ride while I stood beside her, masturbating. Since hooking up with Byron, I have been forbidden from having sex with Beatrice. Besides, my pecker could hardly keep up with the sort of stamina she found in her lover.
Beatrice had an assortment of dildos, all in varying sizes and colours. Since our lockdown began, she kept them in numerous places about the house, so whenever her itch grew drastic, she didn’t need to rush to the bedroom to grab one. She kept one under a coffee table; there was one on the dining table; she had two of them stuck to the bathroom wall, which she would fuck while on her arms and knees.
The sex toys were a relief, but for Beatrice, nothing beats having a handsome cock to fuck. My dilemma was what was I going to do about her situation. I had to think of something and fast before things became unbearable for both of us.
As it turned out, a day came when I needed to head to Costco to pick up a few boxes of cereal, preferably Wheaties. Beatrice couldn’t do without morning cereal, and neither could I; that was one important meal we both shared. It had been days since I got in my car and drove beyond my driveway except to warm the engine. I took my time preparing: wearing a pair of white surgical gloves and a face mask. Beatrice told me to hurry back. Did she think this was going to be fun shopping for me?
The roads were devoid of traffic. There were so few cars at each traffic stop; it was almost a crime waiting for the lights to turn green. But I did make it to Costco and wasn’t surprised to see a horde of shoppers milling about the forecourt, many of them wearing face masks like me, all trying their best not to make conversation, including maintaining some measure of distance from each other. Many of them appeared nervous and dour.
I went into the shop and set about picking my items. Many of the aisles and stalls were empty. I moved about and tried not to bump into any of the shoppers around, eventually making it to the cereal section. There was a man there about to grab the last box of Wheaties on the shelf; for some reason, I couldn’t let that happen.
“Hey,” I called out to him, “I wanted that.”
“Same here,” he shot back.
I pushed my trolley toward him. He didn’t make like leaving. He wore a leather jacket, black hand gloves, gümüşhane seks hikayeleri and a white handkerchief; he didn’t look intimidated by my approach, not like I intended him any harm.
“I sorry, but I really wanted to have that Wheaties,” I said in as much a pleading voice I could summon.
He looked at me, then at the box of Wheaties, then to my surprise, he gave it to me, then continued down the aisle. I was so dumbfounded and lost for words by his kindness that by the time I could summon the strength to thank him, he had already walked away from view. My shopping concluded, it became another gruelling task to wait my turn at the payment counter. Eventually, I completed my purchase and carted my items.
I happened to sight the leather-clad gentleman out in the parking lot. I got into my car and drove toward him. He turned his head and saw me coasting beside him.
“I never got to thank you for that kind gesture,” I said to him.
“Looked like you needed it more than me, so think nothing of it, sir.”
I was reluctant to let it be. I figured I owed the gentleman, especially in this troubling situation the world was currently battling. One kind gesture certainly deserves another.
“Do you have a ride?” I inquired. “I can give you a lift if you want.”
He looked at me and smiled, “That won’t be wise, would it? Safe distancing.”
It occurred to me then that I wasn’t wearing my face mask, but I thought to hell with it. He looked like a decent fellow. Who said that life wasn’t worth taking risks. Another thought that came to me was how similar he looked to Beatrice’s lover. Beatrice certainly would find him attractive.
“I for sure won’t mind,” I countered. “If you’re not in too much of a hurry, perhaps you and I can share a drink. A drink and a friendly chat. A lot better than being cooped up indoors alone.”
That got him to stop. I decided to throw in a caveat.
“Also, I’m sure my wife would love to thank you for me.”
He thought for a second, then came around and got in the passenger seat. His name was Russ, formerly worked as an intern for an online gaming company but was currently unemployed. Like everyone else, he was equally paranoid and upset about the roaming virus responsible for the nationwide lockdown.
Beatrice was surprised to see me return with company. But it was almost like we communicated mentally once she set her eyes upon Russ and knew right away that I’d done the right thing even before explaining the circumstances of our meeting.
Beatrice went and got us beers, and we sat on our front porch and chatted like we had known each other since. Russ relieved himself of his jacket and got more comfortable. He sat on a long chair, and I gestured at Beatrice to go sit beside him, which she was more than happy to do. Russ likely had no idea what was coming . . . probably until the moment Beatrice slapped her hand on his thigh, laughing gayly at some silly joke I’d made. Then she switched her focus to Russ.
“How have you been coping with this quarantine thing?” She asked him.
“Lots of things,” he sighed. “Play video games, watch movies and trying hard not to watch the news, reworking my resume . . . but really, it’s been a drag.”
“Nobody to keep you company?” she pressed on. “No friends, girlfriends?”
“My girlfriend and I split up months ago. All my friends are maintaining social distancing.”
“That’s too bad,” her hand continued pressing his thigh. “Don and I have a similar problem. I had this very good friend of mine who often came by regularly to time with me. Unfortunately, this virus thing has made him stayed away. Presently he’s out of state checking on his mom. Not that I have any problem with that, except him being away has left me moody since.”
“Exactly what sort of friend are we talking about here?”
“The kind of friend who wouldn’t mind me doing this,” Beatrice slid her hand to his crotch and gave it a good squeeze. “Do you know what type of friend I mean?”
“Yep, I most certainly do,” Russ said, then he glanced at my direction as though wanting to be sure I was aware of what my wife was implying.
“Don’t worry about Don,” Beatrice said to him, “he certainly approves. Or else he won’t have brought you here. Anyway, with that friend of mine gone, I’m in desperate need of someone agile and strong to take his place. What do you say, Russ? Are you up for it?”
It didn’t take him long to give back an answer. “I sure as hell won’t mind,” he laid his hand on Beatrice’s thigh. That sealed the deal for both of them.
“How about we go inside and get more comfortable,” Beatrice took his hand and helped him to his feet. “Don will take care of the mess.”
“Have fun,” I said to both of them as Beatrice opened the door and led her newfound lover into our home.
I remained at the porch, sipping my beer while trying to give them time to get properly settled. Byron would never have wasted time taking Beatrice upstairs. I tried gazing through the screen door and caught sight of them in the living room. I gave them another five minutes while finishing my beer before deciding then to join them.
They were seated at the long sofa, or rather Beatrice sat there with her legs spread apart while Ruff was on his knees with his face pressed down her crotch. Beatrice had her blouse unbuttoned and I could make out her tits hanging out of her bra. She had an animated look about her face that told me she was feeling what Russ was giving to her. Her mouth hung open and she was panting mildly while caressing Russ’s head. She looked over at me and gave me a smile that said I’d done good to her today.
Russ came off her crotch and sat beside her. His jeans was loosened as was his shirt. Beatrice cuddled against him, sharing a long passionate kiss while she rummaged inside his jeans and unearthed his tool. His cock was hard and ready to go to work. Beatrice was all smiles, yearning with delight as she knelt beside Russ and lowered her face to meet his hard-on.
She gave his penis a sensuous kiss, “Oh God, how I’ve fucking missed the taste of a big cock,” she murmured before taking the rest of him into her mouth.
I planted myself in a chair, whipped out my cell phone and started snapping away. Russ pulled my wife’s skirt over her rump to get her butt a good squeeze while taking pleasure from her mouth. His eyes were glazed over with lust—Beatrice sure knows how to give great head, something her former lover had taught her. She went on bobbing her head on Russ’s dick, slobbering over his shaft, and burrowing further to get at his balls.
“Any chance we can find ourselves a room?” Russ asked the question.
“We certainly can,” Beatrice said, “but first, allow me to do this.”
She came off the sofa and I went ahead filming her as she dropped her panties down her ankles and kicked them off her feet, then she came forward and straddled Russ’s thighs. His hands held up her skirt, revealing to me her bare bottom—everything about her looked so beautiful from where I was sitting—while her hand grabbed at his cock and proceeded to work it into her pussy.
“Aaahhhh fuck yeah!” Beatrice exclaimed.
Russ adjusted himself on the sofa as his cock slid further into her cunt.
I leaned closer in my chair, wanting to capture every detail.
His cock slid inside her and his hands grasped her butt cheeks while she continued to moan and wiggled her buttock against him. Her moans went into a frenzy as she began riding him. Russ managed to force his jeans down his knees and spread his legs as wide as he could to accommodate himself better. He, too, fell into a steady groove with their sex bout. His hands smacked and squeezed my wife’s shapely butt while she worked her hips in counter-motion against him. As for me, I got horny just watching them fuck. It made everything so pleasurable that Beatrice wasn’t feeling bored with herself anymore.
* * * *
Russ did climax. He pulled out of Beatrice in time and ejaculated onto the back of her buttock and all over his thigh. Beatrice climbed off him and cleaned his cock for him expertly with her mouth, then rose to her feet.
“Come, let’s go clean you up,” she said. “You’re not in a hurry to get home, are you?”
“Not at the moment, no,” Russ replied as he struggled out of his jeans and undershorts. “I’m gonna need to wash up, though.”
“Let me take care of you for that. You can leave those here,” Beatrice indicated his clothes, “Don will pick them up for you.”
Russ kicked his shoes aside and left his clothes on the sofa. He took Beatrice’s hand and she stopped to look at me, smiling while she did before leading him towards the stairs. I was still filming them on my phone, watching Russ wrap his hand around her waist, sliding it down to squeeze her butt, and Beatrice giggling in response as they made it up the stairs leaving me behind to clean up the mess.
I dropped my phone and did just that. I went out and picked up the bottles of beer and discarded them in the kitchen. Returning to the living room, I picked up Russ’s clothes and scooped up Beatrice that she had dropped along the stairs leading towards the bedroom.
The door was open when I entered. Beatrice liked leaving the door open whenever she had sex like she wanted the world to know of what fun she was having. They were in the bathroom taking a shower. I peeped them through the shower stall and saw Beatrice sponging Russ up and down. She caught me looking and winked at me. I arranged their clothes in the closet, then got out my camcorder equipment and proceeded to set it up at the foot of the bed. Byron had instructed me on how to do it. He loved making videos of him and Beatrice having sex to show to his friends, though, as far as we know, he’s never told them who we are nor shared her with anyone at all. We liked it that way.
I mounted the camcorder by the doorway on a tripod and aimed it at the bed. I was still checking to make sure everything was sound when Beatrice and Russ reentered the room, both of them dripping water. He carried her in his arms and laid her on the bed.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Beatrice said to him while pointing at me behind the camera, “Don loves to make short films.”
“Sure, no problem. As long as it doesn’t get on the internet.”
“No way in hell,” I reassured him while giving the OK sign that I was good to go.
Russ held my wife’s legs apart and fell to his knees and went ahead to attack her pussy as he had done in the living room. Beatrice fondled and played with her tits while gasping from his actions. Russ looked like he was doing an excellent job with the way Beatrice’s moans kept on climbing. I always thought I was only one good at eating her out; Byron didn’t usually spend much time when it came to foreplay—always eager to get to the screwing part.
I stayed behind the camcorder’s lens, making sure not to miss a thing. The whole time my hard-on was pressing against the fabric of my pants, wanting room to breathe.
Beatrice slid further onto the bed for Russ to come and join her. She waited until he had settled on his back, then positioned her butt on top of his face and leaned forward to play with his cock. I zoomed in to capture her taking his cock into her mouth. She was such a different person whenever she made love. Such a meek, charming creature she was, but once it came to sex, she was fiery like a fox set loose in a hen house. Watching the way she stroked Russ’s cock while shoving her mouth down to his balls told me how hungry she was to get fucked.
I detached the camcorder from the tripod and drew closer to the bed. I walked to the side, wanting to see how well Russ was tasting my wife. I could barely make out his face between her ass cheeks; the smacking, slurping noise I heard told me he, too, was having a good time.
Beatrice came off him and lay on her side in a spoon position while Russ propped himself behind her. She raised her legs for him and reached down for his cock, stroked it once, then twice, before shoving it inside her. Her pink vagina lips appeared to open up for Russ as he slid inside her. Beatrice tensed as it happened, and she began jerking her hips and pelvis against him in no time. Russ wedged his hand under her thigh and rocked hard against her. He slid his other hand underneath to grab a feel of her breasts, squeezing her nipple with his fingers. Beatrice leaned over towards him and their lips met in a frantic kiss. Their bodies grooved against each other like a well-oiled machine. Russ turned over onto his back, pulling Beatrice along to get on top of him, which she did. His cock pulled out of her, but Beatrice was quick enough to return it inside her and went ahead, rocking on top of him. I moved from the side of the bed back to the end, wanting to capture the sight of her pussy rising then falling on that hard cock. The view was so exquisite I could feel myself ejaculating inside my briefs.
Beatrice reclined backward on both hands with her feet spread over Russ’s ,who was busy pumping his thighs, ramming her pussy harder. Beatrice was in a frenzy, groaning and squealing for more. Russ went on thrusting harder and faster. Her breasts rocked and bounced on her torso. They switched position, and Russ got to fuck my wife from behind. This was her favourite position. Russ grabbed her by her waist and went on pumping and fucking her harder, just like she wanted.
It was what she demanded.
I moved from one side of the bed to the other, making sure I caught sight of his dick stretching Beatrice. Even up to the moment when he sprayed cum on her buttock.
They went at it a third time before deciding to call it quits, or rather Russ did when he saw how farther the day had gone. He promised to be back the next day. Beatrice was reluctant to see him go, as though she feared it would be the last time he came by, or maybe she was afraid the troublesome virus might get to him within the next twenty-four hours.
That night we lay in bed staring at each other, talking about how the day had gone.
“I can’t believe you actually found him the way you did,” she murmured.
“I know. I couldn’t believe it, too. serendipity, I guess.”
“Do you think he’ll keep his promise?”
“Of course,” I answered, “why won’t he? He sure did enjoy you to want to come back again.”
“I don’t know. I just feel like . . . I don’t know, like this is all too good to be true.”
“You had yourself a good time, did you not, darling?”
“Yes,” her voice was uncertain at first, then it became firm, “Yes, yes, I fucking did.”
“Russ did, too. I saw the look of his face, so I know. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You’re so good to me, darling. I’m sorry I was a ball buster.”
“All is forgiven. Now go to sleep.”
We shared one last kiss, then I switched off the bedside lamp and we settled into the comfort of the night.