My Favourite Life

August 21, 2010

Jake and Kate

Filed under: breasts,Sex — myfavouritelife @ 4:12 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Jake and Kate stopped over as planned Friday afternoon for an early dinner BBQ and some drinks as the end of Summer nears. My wife has already said that she has no interest in hooking up with Jake again, but that she wanted to tease the hell out of him.

She was wearing the same sundress as she wore the week before, thinking that he’d remember what was underneath. Jake was wearing jeans and a Polo shirt. Kate was wearing a skirt and blousey top. My wife’s goal was to be exceptionally flirty and drop double entendres wherever she could. As before, her sundress did not do much to contain her assets. From the sides, you could clearly see her breasts including nipple, and when she leaned over not much was left to the imagination.

At one point she tried to bring even more focus on herself: “I just love these sundresses on days like this. I’d bet you’d look fabulous in one of these, Kate. Don’t you think?”

“It looks nice. I’ve got some, but I tend to wear them more around the yard,” she responded.

My wife replied, “Yeah, well, I am hanging around the yard. I only wish it gave me more support. I can’t stand wearing a bra, and you already know I don’t wear panties.”

Kate started to get a bit uncomfortable and defensive. “Ah, that might be more information than we need to know,” and she laughed.

I interjected, “I am not sure they knew you didn’t wear panties.”

My wife: “Well, now they do. I hate panties even with jeans, but with a skirt it just feels so free.”

Me: “I’m sure it does.”

Jake enters the conversation from the sideline: “Kate always wears underwear—bra and panties, right,” he looks to his wife for confirmation.

Kate: “Of course I do.”

My wife: “I know it’s not for everyone, but even the breeze feels nice,” and she pulls the top of her sundress away from her body to let the air circulate a bit.

Time passes, and after we have eaten my wife felates a Popsicle. She wasn’t trying to be painfully obvious; she was just moving it in and out of her mouth suggestively and moaning, remarking about how good it tasted and how the cold was refreshing. At the appropriate moment she comments, “It is always embarrassing eating a Popsicle in front of people. I feel so self conscious. Though it’s not as bad as a banana.”

Kate replies, “I think you could eat it less suggestively.”

My wife responds, “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just enjoy the cold on my lips,” and she closed her lips on it again and made even more exaggerated motions. “Mmmm…” she says loudly and looks to Jake, who is noticeably nervous of his wife’s reaction. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Jake?” she asks him. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head no giving out a nervous laughter.

My wife grabs herself another drink and says, “You know what would feel even better right now? I’d love to run under the sprinkler. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” We have an oscillating lawn sprinkler for the garden, and I could tell where she was trying to go with that idea, so I tried to intervene.

“It’s getting later, and it’s not as hot as it was earlier,” but her mind was already made up. She moved the sprinkler from the garden to the side yard and turned it on, not hesitating for a moment to run under it getting herself wet. “Ohhhhh… so screeched. It’s so cold, but it feels so nice. Come on. It feels great!” But she had no takers, and she was getting irritated (probably as much as everyone else). “Aren’t you guys hot?” she asked, but the consensus was, “not really.” Kate said that they had no change of clothes, but my wife offered her her bathing suit from inside the house, but still no takers.

Then it went from uncomfortable to worse. My wife stopped the oscillating and left the sprinkler spraying straight up. She straddled over the sprinkler, spraying up her dress. “Now that feels good. I could stand her all day—or for about 5 more minutes.” Even I was starting to get embarrassed by her. Finally, she decided to stop, and she turned off the water.

To say the least, her sundress was clinging and form-fitting to her breasts. I thought that there had been nothing left to the imagination before, but this topped that. Everyone made a timid attempt not to stare at her nipples piercing through the material. You could even see her areolae outlined and the full shape of her breasts.

“You should really dry off,” Kate says. But my wife says she’s fine and counters, “You guys are such wet blankets.” Jake responds that she is the wet blanket.

Kate says, “We should help you tidy up and get going,” and we all start carrying stuff into the kitchen. By the time we were done cleaning, my wife had changed into a new outfit—just another dry sundress, really. My wife suggests that they should stay later and we could do something together—watch a DVD, play a board game or cards or something—, and then she suggests we should play strip poker. The responses were hilarious. Jake said without hesitation, “We don’t have any plans.” He thought that sounded like a great idea. His wife on the other hand was aghast. “We need to get going,” with them both realising they have given opposing answers. Kate glared coldly at Jake, and he clarified his response. “No, I was just kidding. I mean we’re not teenagers anymore. We could have just as soon played Spin the Bottle.” He was not convincing, and they left immediately.

After they had gone my wife told me that she was disappointed that they wouldn’t go along with her idea because she thought it would be fun. She pondered outloud, “How could I have possibly have won? All I am wearing is this. Lose one hand, and I’m out. I could see that Jake wanted to play. He’s really stuck with some baggage in Kate.”

She continued, “Jake wants to come over again tomorrow,” but she told him that I had the day off and that I no longer had a standing commitment—though that was a lie—, so that probably wouldn’t work. He said that he had a great time and wanted to do it again. “No doubt,” she quipped. “And all I get is nothing, but I did give him something: a show. I dropped my wet sundress in the kitchen whilst he was standing there and went into the bedroom to change. It’s no wonder he was so eager to play strip poker—even though he already saw the prize.”

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