Unbidden Milka dropped not to her knees but to a crouch, not to fellate or wank but just to stroke his balls hanging beneath his erect cock. A gentle running of her fingers across the wrinkled skin. A delight.
"Nice balls. Not empty but... no babies. Nice cock. You going to fuck Milka with it?"
He was happy for the moment just to stand there and feel Milka's fingertips upon his scrotum, see her face so close to his hard penis, see her high cheekbones, her nose and mouth so close to his swollen knob. In his mind the thought, 'suck, suck, suck!" But Milka did not. Just a hint of a lick to his fraenum and she was standing, reaching her hand for his and leading him into the bedroom.
The sex was on rather than in the bed. Milka had him lie down and she mounted him 'cowgirl' style. The white stockings were not removed, nor the knickers. Chris found it rather exciting for Milka to pull the knickers aside and guide him into her now uncovered entrance. As each time with Milka, so good to feel his knob sliding up into the girl, feeling her warmth and wetness and knowing his was the first naked penis to travel that way. This time was different in that it was Milka doing the work, Milka doing the moving; Milka doing the fucking. Chris merely had to lay there, spread-eagled upon the bed, relaxed, luxuriating in the feeling -- being lazy almost -- and have Milka bathe his penis with her wet vagina. Slowly up and slowly down. He could watch his penis appearing and disappearing up into that so delightful triangle made by her spread thighs. At its apex her soft fair curls, making an opposing triangle, largely hidden by the knickers. From his vantage point, with the gusset pushed aside by his erect cock within her, he could just about make out see how her slit ran on down to clitoral hood and paired labia, see it moving as Milka exercised. Above, pretty round, uncovered, breasts moving and above her smiling face. The girl occasionally biting the edge of her bottom lip in pleasure as she looked down at him. Should he perhaps fondle her breasts, but it was rather good to see her occasionally touch her own, wet a finger and stroke one of her hard red nipples. It added to the erotic feeling of him being used by her. A man with penis attached -- a man to be ridden and enjoyed. Were the stockings and pretty knickers more for her than him? In a way the casual pulling aside of the knickers and pushing in of his penis rather suggested that.
Almost, almost -- Chris could see Milka was on the verge. She stopped with him fully impaled. Was she holding herself on the edge?
Around the bedroom door frame, all of a sudden, Toma appeared. Chris had not heard him approaching; had not heard footsteps on the stairs or the door at the top opening; had not heard Toma cross the sitting room. But there he was; expressionless, standing and looking. There for a moment and then gone. It would have put Chris off had he been the active participant of the copulation, but he was not. In a way it was perhaps better for Toma to see them like that. Milka very much using him rather than the other way around. Milka had not seen Toma; was unaware he had looked in and seen his half naked wife atop their naked customer. But he would have seen their special stockings and knickers being used; because of Milka's temporary rest would have seen nothing of the actual sexual intercourse but would have known, could have imagined nothing else, that Chris' erect penis was inside Milka -- inside his wife - naked, erect, unsheathed and about to release his semen, or even have already done so, into his wife.
Chris did not mention, did not disturb Milka's ride. If it disturbed him there was nothing he could do -- or did -- other than to let her carry on; her wet sheath once more sliding up and down his upstanding 'pole,' sending innumerable pleasure signals to his brain. Almost before Toma would have reached the stairs -- and not if he had perhaps paused to listen -- Milka was crying out as her orgasm came; pushing down hard upon Chris' cock, really riding it at the gallop. Of course, quite impossible with flying boobs, the squelching sounds of vigorous copulation, the silky feel of soaking vagina upon his erection and Milka's abandon not to come himself. Chris Newman passed the point of no return, tried to hold himself back as the vagina slid up and down and then released, spurt after spurt travelling up and out of his knob into the girl. So good, so good.
Another copulation completed. Redressed and with Milka in the lead, her skirt swishing, they descended the stairs. Below Toma looked up, his face expressionless. He said not a word as Chris said goodbye as he stepped through the counter hatch and towards the door. He had turned half-way to the door and saw Milka's flushed face all smiles as she called, 'have a nice day.' Well, he had already! Toma on the other hand just stared. Was he feeling a little shocked from what he had seen, not simply knowing what was happening upstairs with his wife but now having seen it? Was he thinking about Milka's white knickers, so jealous that it was Chris' semen that would be dripping down into those knickers and not his own? Knowing that whilst he had taken them from Milka, no doubt pushed his sheathed penis past the gusset, perhaps even spanked her in those knickers -- lowered or un-lowered - his semen had never dripped into them. They had never needed a wash because of him. It was very difficult to know Toma's thoughts. Post orgasm Chris could not help feeling bad about it; bad about cuckolding Toma; yet, he was so enjoying his liaisons with the lovely, oversexed Milka. He could hardly stop; could not stop himself unless Toma put his foot down; put Milka over his knee, pulled her white knickers down, and said, 'no more.'
Chris did not work Saturdays; had no need to come into Soho yet he was so tempted to have a cappuccino; so tempted to visit the café and, most especially, see Milka and 'help Toma out.' Did Toma really want the help?
Chris resisted and certainly when he almost skipped -- but middle-aged men, just the wrong side of fifty, do not do that -- towards the café mid Monday morning, he was very much in that mood for 'helping.' Toma looked tired, there were bags under his eyes. Was it Milka being too demanding or was the thought of another man lying with his wife becoming too much? Sleepless nights beside Milka. Sleepless nights of worry or perhaps even being made the more tired by being woken in the middle of the night by a soft, wet mouth upon his penis, encouraging it into life and to fuck her? Packets of Durex in the drawer by the bed.
The doorbell dinged and there she was, the young girl Chris had been thinking about all weekend. The young woman he had a crush upon. Lovely Milka, all smiles and pigtails and behind her Toma preparing salad.
"Good morning, Milka, Toma -- and it is a good morning. The sun is bright and the sky clear." Cheery and jolly. Chris hoped it struck the right tone with Toma. He did get a reply, even from Toma. Not a very full or enthusiastic reply but a reply nonetheless. Good to sit in his window seat at the metal and marble table Chris preferred and drink his cappuccino, enjoying the froth and sprinkled chocolate. No sign, though, that he was to be invited upstairs. He waited even after he had finished his drink and then slowly and a little disappointedly took his cup back up to the counter. Toma had just been serving a customer and he took the cup; behind him Milka was working, her back to them.
"She says you are to go upstairs." Toma lifted the hatch.
Sudden excitement for Chris but very difficult in a way to walk through the hatch with Toma looking at him.
"Thanks," what else to say? He climbed the stairs. Looking back Toma was looking up at him but Milka was still busy. He closed the door and wondered what he was meant to do. Get undressed; wait for Milka naked -- but what if Milka was not really going to come and instead it was Toma come to 'deal with him' -- what indeed?
In the end he walked through into the bedroom and stood looking at the office workers opposite. One girl caught his eye and it was pleasing to follow her movements as she walked around talking. He could not see if she had black tights on under her black skirt as his angle did not permit him to see so low into the office, but he rather thought she would have. A crisp white blouse with proper collar. A woman's shirt -- he could see which side the buttons ran -- nicely pushed out at the front in a womanly way. Rather well pushed out in his opinion! A dark-haired girl, indeed, rather dark skinned as well. A pretty girl with a seemingly ready smile to her generous lips. Was she perhaps the manager? Her hand rested upon the shoulder of one girl she was talking to, the girl looking up at her. A hands-on manager! Some people were more touchy feely than others. Some people came closer when talking than others, some were ready to touch, not inappropriately but making contact in a friendly way. It was nice. Chris' manager was not like that.
Of course, being a man, his thoughts went to the dark girl's hand resting on rather more of the seated girl than mere friendliness. The thought of her hand slipping into the girl's blouse and closing over her breast; of the two slowly undressing each other and engaging in a sixty-nine fashion. Not in the office, of course, but somewhere private. But the manager woman was not being sexual. Her hand rested upon the next person she spoke to, an older man. Of course, Chris thought, it might well be that that man would like her hand to rest upon rather more than his shoulder. For her hand to encourage his penis into erection, for her dark fingers to curl around it and exercise it and draw the semen up and out or perhaps take it between her soft and full lips and massage it to a spurting. How good to have a 'hands on' young female manager who did that!
Chris was strongly erect with his thoughts when he heard a noise behind him. Milka not Toma. He had not heard her coming up the stairs. She was in jeans but already her top and brassiere had been dispensed with. Like on the Friday she was naked from the waist up, though the jeans were not quite like the stockings and knickers.
