Sexy Hardcore Stories: Wet And Wild!

SECRET s*x IN THE CITY It was a hot day in Washington DC. The kind of sweltering heat that made the simplest of tasks difficult. Just hailing a cab was a chore. Guy and I were in town to play a small jazz club in the heart of the city. He had been dreading it for some time. “Too many rich assholes in this city.” Guy would say, every time I mentioned our next destination. I knew he was right: the club would be full of bloated congressmen and senators cheating on their wives with paralegals and interns. The joint we were going to play is just that sort of place: dark and sophisticated. The perfect atmosphere for a loveless DC fat cat to bring his mistress. I f*****g hated the thought of it. Guy hated it even more. But money is money. Naturally, I was in a better mood than he was. We had been on the road for three months and this was the last week of our tour. Music is how we pay the bills - and it’s an awesome life. I'm a pianist, drummer and vocalist and Guy plays the guitar. Sometimes I still can’t believe that I get paid to travel the world, making music with my best friend and soulmate. It was dusk and the entire city had a Friday night buzz in the air. We’d played this joint so many times we didn’t even need to use GPS to find it. Usually in most cities we feel lost. Not DC. It’s a good town for live music. I just hate the corruption and entitled sense of the government elite that inhabit the local bars and clubs. We stopped for an espresso at our favorite spot. As we were waiting in line, my phone buzzed. I dug through my purse searching for the pulsating device. “Hey!” I squealed into the phone as I put it near my ear. I motioned to my road weary hubby that I was going outside to continue the conversation. I was more than a little excited by the call. For some couples, this may be a time for jealousy or worry - but not for us. We have a secret life that most of the world doesn’t know about, a life which only brings us closer together. My heart started to beat a bit faster as I continued the conversation. Maybe this will turn Guy's grumpy mood right around! I thought to myself as I chatted on the phone while waiting for my husband outside the coffeeshop. The line moved at a snail’s crawl and Guy watched me through the coffee shop window as I excitedly spoke on the phone. I could feel his eyes on me: passionate, loving, hungry eyes. We’ve been married awhile. High school sweethearts. Married soon after graduating. Started making music and never found time for kids or college. He’s my best friend and is absolutely the most beautiful soul I have ever met. I know if he were writing this story for you to read, he would say the same about me. I am shorter than Guy. My small frame is complimented by my massive black curls, beautiful brown skin and enviable bone structure. Sometimes when we are on stage at a club, I find my hubby playing his guitar and staring at my lips - the most sensuous part of my entire body, he'd often say. My lips have brought him thousands of hours of pleasure, and they just naturally tease and pout regardless of the situation I find myself in. Even away from the bedroom and on stage, my lips seem to beckon him. “Hello?” I watched as a girl’s voice cut through my husband's lustful thoughts. “Hello?” Again, the girl’s voice. I giggled as Guy shook his head and realized he had been staring out at me for so long that he was now at the head of the line and the barista had been trying to get his attention for several seconds. The barista was clearly annoyed. “You know, why don’t you just go out there and ask for her number,” she motioned to me through the window. “What?” Guy said, still coming out of his daze. “The woman out there, you’ve been staring at for a hot minute now.” The barista rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” “That’s my wife. I was just lost in my thoughts.” Guy mumbled. The barista’s entire demeanor changed, “oh my god, that’s too cute. I didn’t know that was your wife. Awe.” her voice trailed off. She added, “what can I get you?” “Oh, two espressos, please.” he said. She called out the order to her co-worker. “How much do I owe you?” Guy inquired. “It’s on the house - love bird’s special,” she smiled. She added, “my boyfriend just broke up with me and I hope someday I can find what you two have. I just want a man that looks at me the way you look at her.” The barista smiled and waved at me through the window. “You will,” Guy said, smiling as I joined them. “Hi!” I said to the barista. “Have a nice night,” the barista said to us with a smile like we were her new best friends. As we walked to the pick-up counter to retrieve our espressos, I said, “what was all that about? You guys were talking for a while. She’s a nice girl, but not really my type.” Guy cracked a crooked half grin. “Oh, ah, she saw me looking at you and said I should ask for your number because clearly I’m ogling you.” “Oh, she thought you were a creeper!” I poked my hubby's belly. “She did.” “What did you say?” I asked. “I told her I am a creeper and that she better watch out!” Guy joked. “No you didn’t. What did you say?” “I told her you were my wife and I think that information must have melted her heart because she said ‘awe’ and then told me our drinks were free.” “Well, she probably just wants what we have.” “Most people do,” Guy said softly. We decided to walk from the coffeehouse to the jazz club we were playing at. It wasn’t that far. Plus, we’d get some exercise and save on the cab fare. Even though dusk had given way to darkness, the city was no cooler with the sun down. Guy's entire shirt was quickly getting soaked with sweat. I was thankful that I had made him pack his suit and that he wasn’t wearing that as we walked. By the time we would reach the club, we'd definitely both be drenched in sweat. I looked down to study my flimsy tank top. It was soaking wet, clinging to my breasts. My n*****s poking through the sheer fabric. Thankfully, the constant traveling, walking and lugging our gear across cities like DC kept us both in pretty good shape. We were at the time in life where staying in shape was becoming harder and harder. My mixed race heritage kept my skin youthful - I could easily pass for a young woman in her 20s. Guy, however, was starting to have a few gray hairs and a few more wrinkles when he smiled or laughed heartily. I really like his more “distinguished” look. As we walked I said, “Guess who called?” “Oh right, who called?” Guy asked. “Kelsey from yoga.” “Really? What did she want? We haven’t seen her in a long time.” “She’s in DC now. She saw a poster on a bulletin board that we were playing here. She’s gonna try to make it down to the show.” “Are you going to try to make it down on Kelsey after the show?” Guy asked with a wicked smile. “See, you are a creeper!” I yelled playfully as I threw my empty paper espresso cup at Guy's head. “Well, you sure wanted to back in the day!” he said gleefully. “She’s just a friend. It will be nice to see her again.” I said professionally, knowing my hubby could see through my mind as easily as he could my shirt. “Uh-huh,” Guy said, adding: “She’s just a friend that you talked about while we fucked.” “Well, if it feels like there’s a connection tonight, maybe we’ll all end up very happy.” As I said ‘very happy’ I gently flicked Guy's c**k, which I noticed had started to increase in girth as we talked. “Oh - looks like you don’t mind the thought of Kelsey visiting us at the club.” I cooed. What could he say? Of course he was excited. Opportunities like this is what every teenage boy lives for when he dreams of becoming a traveling musician: the possibility of one night stands in random cities. Thankfully, I had the mind of a teenage boy too. One time I openly admitted to Guy that I dreamed of becoming a traveling musician for the same motivation: p***y. “I want to pick up hot chicks in bars we play and f**k their brains out,” I had blurted out one night as we were making love. This was many years ago. “Excuse me?” Guy said as he kept sliding in and out of my tight, wet p***y. “You know I’m bi. I told you before we got married.” “Yes, I know.” Guy said. I felt his d**k swelling inside me. I loved having conversations like this as we f****d. It just brought us even closer together. In between his thrusts, I said: “I want to start exploring. Are you ok with that?” “Of course,” he said as the rhythm of my hips began to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “What do you have in mind?” “I want to be open with you. I want to tell you who I like, what I want to do to them, and I want us to try to make it happen.” “Total honesty?” He asked. “Total honesty,” I confirmed. “Deal,” he said. “As long as we are always honest and open with each other, I want you to explore your bisexuality.” “You don’t mind?” “f**k,” he started thrusting harder and faster. “Of course not, women have something I don’t. They can give you something I can’t.” “But you have something I want too!” I moaned. “Good. You want this?” Guy asked as he pulled his c**k out of my soaking wet p***y and started slamming it against my slit. “f**k, stop,” I moaned, “I need your c**k inside me.” Guy kept teasing. Holding his rock hard d**k in his hands as he playfully slapped it against my p***y, being careful not to enter. My body arched upwards towards his c**k and I tried to pull him in. Guy couldn’t resist any longer. He shoved his entire c**k with one hard thrust all the way inside of me. His balls felt my wetness and he remained motionless, allowing us both to feel the sensation of completeness - his c**k filling my warm and very tight cunt. “I need your c**k, but I also need some pussy.” I whispered. Guy leaned down, his muscular chest on mine. He whispered in my ear: “then let’s make sure we get you some good pussy.” As he said this he filled my cunt with his warm, thick milky fluid. He didn’t pull out. Guy stayed inside of me as we held each other for the night. We fell asleep in our embrace. And that was the start of our adventure. Things have never been the same. We got to the club a few minutes before showtime. Mike, the bar manager, escorted us to the dressing room behind the stage. I began to do some vocal warm ups and finger stretches as I stripped out of sweaty clothes to get into something a bit more professional and slinky for onstage. Guy took his guitar out of its case so it could adjust to the club’s temperature. He quickly changed into his suit. Our brief pre-show kiss was interrupted by Mike who leaned his head into the door and said, “showtime!” We have played so many shows now that neither of us has to think anymore. We can just feel the music. Read the vibes of the room, the energy of the audience - and slip in and out of the melody of each song accordingly. The room was dark, very dark. Just the way I like it. We could barely see the audience. Unless you have been on stage before, you never realize just how blind most performers are. With a dark room and a brightly lit stage it makes for the perfect combination of not knowing who is in the audience - leaving us to our own musical world of jazz. Pure jazz. “Life is jazz”, I said one time years ago as we laid in bed naked, smoking a blunt. “Why is that?” Guy asked. “It’s unexpected and you have to play off the rhythm of each situation,” I said. “This is the kind of conversations stoners have had for years,” he laughed. We played our set and worked the room and each other. Jazz being a constant dance of the unexpected.