Fifty Mission Crush 4

“Of course I mind, I just told you that, he should be coming to me with those urges!”

Betty understood a woman’s needs too well to be put off by Jenny’s reflexive conformity. “But if you’re sleeping. If you’re making dinner. If it’s that time of the month. Any reason you like that he has urges and you can’t do the deed. He goes out to the garage, takes out a Playboy, and relieves himself. Is something wrong there?”

“No, I suppose not… I hope he doesn’t make a mess.”

Betty looked at Jenny and smiled. “Now, we’re in the same situation as before, only this time it’s not dirty pictures he’s looking at. It’s a dirty girl.”

Jenny sat with blue eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Cliff and another woman? It was too much to take in. “Betty, that’s… that’s… it’s cheating!”

Betty laughed. “Is it? Is he doing anything he didn’t do with those dirty pictures?”

“Yes! There’s the girl and she’s looking at him and hearing him and—” Jenny sat back, puffing her cigarette like she wanted it eradicated. “You’ll put me in a state, Betts. You really will. Thinking about a thing like that!”

“Alright… would it make any difference if the girl were a friend? Someone you liked?”

“A friend would never cuckhold me like that!”

“Okay, one more question about planet Mongo…”

“I’m not sure I like Flash Gordon anymore,” Jenny sniffed.

“Say you died. And Cliff mourned and then moved onto someone else. Someone like me, perhaps…”

“You have a writer’s imagination,” Jenny moaned.

“But not a writer’s paycheck, thankfully. Would you mind if Cliff and I hooked up after you died?”

“No. If nothing else, at least I’d know you had this problem now!”

“So if you don’t mind Cliff hooking up with me after you’re gone, why should you mind him hooking up with me when you’re still around?”

“Because he’s mine!” was all Jenny could say.

“And you’re welcome to him. But he’s too much for you and the obvious solution is to give you a helping hand. You’d let me help wash dishes, wouldn’t you? Let me help you prepare a big Thanksgiving dinner, right?”

“This isn’t the same thing!”

“Tell me something else,” Betty purred, warming to Jenny’s passion, to her heat, even when it was angry. “Before you were married, you ever give Cliff a little hummer? Maybe a nice handjob?”

“BET-TEE!” Jenny shrieked.

Betty smiled winningly. “Don’t answer that. I know you did. Even though you weren’t married. Because it didn’t count, right?”

Jenny still stared daggers at her friend. “Maybe.”

“Then why should it count if I give Cliff some of that? You’d still be the one getting your pussy pleased—I sure don’t want to get knocked up by a married man. Not even one I’m not married to.”

“You’re horrid,” Jenny said, but they could both tell she didn’t mean it.

“Hey now, it’s your jigsaw, I’m just telling you what it’s a picture of. You love him, you want him to be satisfied…”

“He deserves to be satisfied,” Jenny crooned, “all the things he’s done, everything he’s been through—”

“I don’t disagree. So let me be your, ah, maid. It’ll still be your house. I’ll just help you keep it spic and span.”

***

Knowing she’d come around to it eventually—already, her insatiable curiosity was painting her and Betty and Cliff together—Jenny agreed to think about it. Soon after, she went out to the backyard where Betty was sunning herself. One look at Jenny and Betty was breaking out into a wide smile; she knew she had the other woman.

“Have a seat, pull up some sun,” Betty told her. “You could use a nice tan for the big event.”

For half a week, Jenny put Betty off, insisting she needed to get Cliff’s read on the idea before she surprised him. Only then did she start hinting at it with him, asking if he thought Betty was pretty, bringing up the subject of Betty’s modeling, and even showing him some of the pictures that’d been taken of Betty, saying it was to support her friend’s career.

Cliff was plenty aroused by the sight of Betty, but such arousal was always recentered on Jenny. He’d drag her to the bedroom, saying that he saw no point in looking at other women when he had a goddess at home—one he was free to worship as often as he liked.

If only that were true, Jenny mused. But I can’t take all your worship. I’m only human.

And so was Betty, but together, maybe they’d make enough of a deity to take the godlike appetite Cliff had.

Pride mixed with jealousy, the warring leaving Jenny continually unsure of the plan. She didn’t know if she could take seeing another woman filled with her husband’s cock. Cliff belonged with her—wouldn’t seeing him with Betty be like an American flag in blue, green, and orange? Or a zebra with stripes of pink and yellow?

But as Betty said, it was not cheating if it was something Jenny wanted Cliff to do. Cheating was something secret, something sordid. If they did it plainly and shamelessly in the same marital bed where the rest of Cliff Secord’s love life took place, then it was not an affair—it would be like any of Jenny’s wifely duties, only with Betty in the mix as well. And at least this way, she would be there, able to see that what Cliff had with Betty was purely physical. He might have sex with her, but Jenny was still the one he’d make love to.

On Friday evening, having promised Betty all week that she was finally getting to it, Jenny met Cliff at the backdoor, where she’d asked him to come in like she was still sneaking boys into Mrs. Ersnen’s boarding house. She greeted him with a smile and an affectionate kiss. All she was wearing under her open flannel robe was a blue nightgown and Cliff eagerly eyed her breasts through the flimsy material before kissing her again.

“Now this is how to start a weekend,” Cliff said, watching how Jenny’s pink nipples popped up through the thin nightgown, just because of his kiss. “You must’ve read my mind, because I’ve been daydreaming about exactly this ever since I last saw you.”

“Hold that thought, Loverboy,” Jenny cooed to him, taking his hand and pulling him inexorably to the bedroom. “I’ve got a surprise for you that I can guarantee you haven’t been daydreaming about.”

With their course set, she let go of his hand and instead used her fingers to shuck off her flannel. Jenny looked over her shoulder at him as she faced the bedroom door.

“Why don’t you go wash up and have a drink before coming to bed? You’ll need your strength.”

“Alright,” Cliff said as he tugged off his shoes and socks. “But you’d better not want me rearranging any furniture…!”

“That’s not what I want you to rearrange,” Jenny promised him, slipping through the door until only her head was poking out. “In fact, the only thing I want you to do in this room is stretch.”

Cliff made his toilet: washing up, stripping down to his boxers and undershirt, and drinking a tall glass of water. As a finishing touch, he took a rose from the bouquet in the kitchen and brought it with him to the bedroom.

When he opened the door, he saw that Jenny and Betty were together under the sheets, their bare shoulders shining with the promise of more nudity.

“Care to join us?” Jenny breathed, petting Betty’s hair.

“You look pretty joined already,” Cliff said with a raspy chuckle, observing how Betty’s arms went around Jenny’s slender back as well. He could only imagine their entwined bodies, a series of suggestive humps below the fitfully concealing comforter. “How long has this been going on?”

“Not nearly long enough,” Betty sighed, rubbing her nose together with Jenny’s. “Your wife brags about you a lot, Cliff. Get in here and show me she’s no fibber.”

Cliff closed his mouth before he could start drooling, his eyes feasting on the absolutely spectacular sight. He could see their feet protruding from the bottom of the comforter, all four wrapped in stockings. A complete paradox, but knowing they were wearing one last little figleaf of nothing proved the starting pistol he needed. In a moment he was naked, his hard cock throbbing out in front of him, demanding the obeisance both women were eager to provide.

“Is this what she was bragging about?” Cliff teased as he approached the bed, hand wrapping around his prick as if it needed any emphasis, any help being held up as an offering.

Betty snickered, reaching out for his cock before it had even gotten close, the sheets spilling down her fine breasts as she sat up. “Actually, she didn’t say how big it was. Just that you made whoopee for hours with it.”