Tracey's New Friend

Papa's is a small Italian joint we live near. It opened in the late 60's when Paolo and Gianna moved here from Italy, meaning really authentic Italian dishes, not like the big chains. Paolo never has advertised the restaurant, unless you happen to see the listing in the yellow pages, under restaurants (Papa's....555-5309). This has kept the restaurant and it's clientele very small. The only thing keeping them afloat are the regulars, which is basically everyone who walks through the doors. Once you've tasted Papa's, you won't go anywhere else.

The dining area is fairly small, but big enough that even on a busy night there are at least a couple empty tables. Small, square hardwood tables and matching chairs make up the furnishings, lit by candle and electric gas-type lamps on the walls (not the card tables and plastic chairs you would expect in a place this small). This gives it a dimly lit, cozy atmosphere, though not as dark as the bar area.

The bar opens off one end of the dining floor, completely walled in stone like some medieval tavern. It even has wall sconces burning actual candles (the only light besides small fluorescent tubes behind the bar). Right at the entrance to the bar sits an old piano, still holding a nice finish and a beautiful tone. Paolo sometimes comes out of the kitchen to play a few old Sicilian tunes to a 'packed' house (in this case, more than three tables is 'packed'), in between stints yelling at the cooks in Italian. Gianna still plays hostess, and will accompany her husband on certain songs.

So there we were, sitting at our table, sharing an enormous bowl of pasta. Papa's has the best sangria, and Tracey had already finished one carafe and was working on a second. I had a glass or two, but was taking it easy since I had to drive. That was when I saw her.

At the bar, a very shapely woman had suddenly appeared. I was sitting facing into the bar, and hadn't seen her entrance—Tracey probably would have smacked me if I had. This woman had fine olive skin, set off nicely by the red and black print corset she wore. Her large breasts were spilling over the top, I was waiting the entire time to see a nipple(never did). A slinky black skirt rested low on her hips, showing just a sliver of supple skin with no hint of stretch marks or cellulite. The skirt stopped at mid calf, covering the tops of black leather boots with stiletto heels. I imagined thigh-highs, and felt my cock stir a little.

Her hair was dark brown, almost black, with a spray of blonde streaks across the top. It was held up in a bun by two chopsticks, the ends of the hair forming a loose fan across the back of her head. She was sitting at the bar, one foot on the floor, the other hooking the heel on a crossbar of the stool. As she sipped her wine, she slowly turned and scanned the dining area. Her smoky eyes slid back and forth under perfect eyebrows, no expression on her beautiful face. She was a classic beauty, good cheeks and chin, but with smooth cheeks instead of heroin-junkie gaunt. Then her eyes stopped in my direction.

I jerked my head, trying not to get caught staring. I became aware of Tracey talking again, realizing I had completely blanked her voice out mid-sentence while I drank in the sight of this Aphrodite.

I took another bite of the pasta, trying to be nonchalant, mm-hmm'd, and glanced back at the bar. She was still looking at our table, but I realized she wasn't looking at me. Tracey has a beautiful neck, like carved marble, almost aristocratic in it's beauty, and had her hair pulled up to drive me crazy. I realized this woman at the bar was staring at the back of my wife's neck, and then watched as she slowly slid her eyes down Tracey's back. I figured she had an almost three-quarters view from the rear, enough to see a facial profile when Tracey turned her head left. I sat and watched in awe as this very vision of sexuality undressed my wife with her eyes. My soldier stirred again, only this time it was marching upward. I had to excuse myself or I would be stuck here for quite a while. I had no choice.

"Sorry, I've got to go to the men's room." I stood and dropped my napkin next to the plate, silverware clattering as I bumped the table with my thigh.

Tracey stopped mid-sentence, and looked surprisingly at me. I usually wasn't rude to her; I had tried the dickhead stuff with other girls before Tracey, and it just wasn't me.

"Well, go then." She said, and kept eating.

I quickly walked past the entrance and entered the short hallway, hoping nothing was visible yet. I swung the door open, and headed for the sink. I ran the water, and splashed some water on my face. I didn't need to, I just felt like I should do something while I was in there.

Tracey has given me two children, Madeline, who is 6, and Lee, who is 3. Before the children, she was thin and athletic looking, a carryover from her swimming days in high school. After Maddy, she had trouble losing the weight, and was still carrying some of it when she got pregnant with Lee. She got even bigger with him, and had a horrible time losing the weight. Eventually she changed jobs, which gave her the opportunity to spend more time with the kids and go to the gym. Between her diet, lifting weights, and swimming, she had lost all of the weight and gotten back the body she had when we met, just a little more muscle.

She always had big hips, and small breasts. The funny thing is, her ass was amazing even when she was carrying the extra weight. Now that she had lost the weight(about 40 pounds), her ass was smaller, but we had compensated by adding in more squats and deadlifts. Now it was more shapely than I ever remember, but her cute little peaches—which seemed to triple in size with each pregnancy—were now left a little deflated and flat.

She had always been self-conscious about them, and hated shopping since stuff either fit the top or the bottom, but never both. So we had scraped the money together, and had gotten her the boob job to go with her ass. I have always been more of an ass man, and didn't really care if she got tits or not. After the surgery, when they had finally settled into their permanent position, I was a changed man. You could see a difference in her self-confidence, and her body image went through the roof. She started buying clothes to show off her hourglass figure, and was getting lots of male attention. She started worrying I would get jealous—part of the reason we waited so long to get them done—but shouldn't have. I loved watching guys' reactions when she entered a room. I got more than one nod or high-five from complete strangers, which we often laughed about later.

She was wearing a very sexy outfit that night, but still classy. She is about 5'10", and had worked her way back down to a very fit 145. She had a flat little tummy, which she loved to show off. She was showing just the beginnings of a six-pack, with a sexy little line down the middle showing the separation of her abs. In fact, that was her next project: an actual six-pack for summer. Tonight was to be her last big night before she hit the diet and weights a little harder for the next month or two, and she had dressed for it well.

She wore a white button-down capsleeve top, unbuttoned a little low to show off the maroon bustier containing her now-ample chest. A long skirt settled low on the curve of her hips, the hem dancing around her calves. Her feet were wrapped in three-inch heels, not stilettos but close, with the little leather laces which wrapped over her ankles onto her lower calves, tied in the back. I thought they looked ridiculous when she showed them to me in the box, but got instant wood the first time she modeled them for me-though, to be fair, she was only wearing the heels.

I looked at myself in the mirror, smoothed my hair with my damp palms, then dried them on a paper towel before going back out to the dining room. As I rounded the corner, I was given quite a shock. The hot chick from the bar was sitting at our table! Not just sitting there, but she had swung a chair around so she was rather close to Tracey.

Now, Tracey is not bisexual, though we have played around a little. When Maddy was still about 6-8 months old, we had hooked up with a girl who was bisexual. I had, over the course of a couple years, gotten Tracey somewhat comfortable with the idea of a threesome, which we had twice with Denise. She seemed to enjoy herself, but I think it was more fascination with my excitement than anything. The first time was the typical, 'she can suck you off, you can eat her out, but you can't fuck her.' Which was fine with me, I mean come on, what guy wouldn't agree to just about anything to see two chicks getting busy? They wouldn't even have to be all that hot, the two of them together would cancel out any weight issues or skin problems.

Thoughts were flying all through my head, visions of Tracey and Denise in a 69, Denise sucking my cock while Tracey licked her box, my cock pumping into Denise's tight little cunt while she ate Tracey's(this happened the second time, after they worked together sucking my cock). I was still standing at the hallway entrance, and needed to either sit down or go back to the restroom to conceal my arousal.

I slid back around the corner, and took a closer look at what was happening at our table. Tracey was smiling broadly, though I could see something in her eyes, something I couldn't identify. The strange woman had her back to me, and was lazily holding her wineglass in one hand, the stem hanging between two fingers. I couldn't see her other hand at first, then I looked lower and saw it settle on Tracey's naked knee. Tracey started a little, as if someone had buzzed her chair. She blinked long and slow, and smiled again through lowered eyelids. It became obvious: this woman was hitting on Tracey! I heard the Hallelujah chorus in my head, and tried not to grin like an idiot. Not only was she hitting on her, but Tracey was digging the attention! I watched Tracey set her lithe hand on this woman's forearm, as they continued talking about God knows what.

I adjusted my growing root, and looked down to see if it was noticeable. Taking a quick glance at the other patrons, I came around the corner and moved slowly toward the table. Tracey saw me over the woman's shoulder, and winked at me mischievously when she took a drink. I closed the distance and slid back into my seat, replacing my napkin over the growing tent in my lap.

Two beautiful sets of eyes turned in my direction, then looked back at each other, giggling like schoolgirls. I looked askance at my wife, who suddenly took on an air of nonchalance. She does that sometimes in bed, since she knows it drives me nuts.

"Who's your new friend?" I asked, trying to contain my excitement. From the look of Tracey, she was planning something. I took a drink of the sangria to keep myself from babbling like an idiot.

"John, this is Kim. Kim, John. I was just telling how I make you my bitch."

I choked on the sweet wine, managing to cover with my napkin before I sprayed both women with red fluid. More giggles, and then Kim turned to me with an evil grin.

"I was just telling your wife how I would like to spread those beautiful legs and lick everything I find in between." She sipped her wine, addressing me with those dark eyes as she did.

"And I was just telling her that you would most definitely say yes, but you had to be involved." Tracey's chin was tilted slightly up, causing her to look down her nose at me.

Kim lowered her glass. "But then a little problem came up, because I'm a lesbian. I don't do guys." She made as if to leave. "Sorry."

"Wait!" I exclaimed, grabbing her arm. I let go, composed myself, and continued. "If Tracey is interested, I would be happy just watching. I don't have to get in the middle of it."

Tracey looked at me a little surprised. She knew I liked seeing her with another woman(what man wouldn't), but figured I would have to get my cock in there somewhere. If I could get her in bed with this amazing piece of ass, the visuals alone would fuel hours of masturbation when I'm away from home on business.

Kim settled slowly back into her chair, her interest again piqued. "You would let me suck her clit until she screamed, licking her through multiple orgasms, and you would be happy just watching?"

"Well, I would probably try to get whichever end you weren't busy with, a fuck or a suck." I looked around the restaurant, grateful for the bad acoustics. This was a family-friendly place, after all.

Kim shook her head. "Oh, no. I don't like to share girls. If I take her home, you can't touch either of us. You would have to just sit back and watch without touching a single breast or ass cheek, your dick would stay dry, you wouldn't even get so much as a hand job until we are done, at least not from either of us."

She looked serious, and she looked like she could really be a bitch when she wanted, but I decided to call her bluff. No way Tracey would be able to keep her hands off my wood if I was sitting there patiently watching and stroking. "No problem."

A sly grin just barely twitched across Kim's full lips. Her right eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and she cut her eyes to the side to look at Tracey. Tracey was still smiling, watching the process. She obviously was enjoying the two of us bargaining over her body.

"Finish your dinner while we chat some more."

I continued eating pasta as the two of them basically forgot I was sitting at the table. It was like being the fly on the wall at a sorority sleepover. They were discussing all kinds of sexual stuff, how long Kim had been a lesbian, why she had converted, how many times Tracey had been with a woman. This one actually surprised me.

I met Tracey when we were both in the Navy, and I was the first and only guy she dated once she was stationed aboard my ship. She had told me stories from her technical training, how she had strung two guys along at the same time for awhile, screwing both of them on the same day sometimes. The stories never bothered me, since she had never given me any reason to doubt her fidelity. But here I was, sitting with my jaw on the table as she recounted a boot camp romance she had with another girl in her division. I knew from experience how horny guys got during boot camp, with little or no female contact of any kind. It never occurred to me that the women were suffering as well.

After about two weeks there, she had gotten very friendly with another girl, who ended up being her first lesbian lover. They would meet in the stairwell after hours some nights, just making out at first, eventually progressing into oral sex. Tracey lost count of how many times she ate that girl's pussy, crouching under her at the bottom of the stairs as her friend hiked one leg up on the hand rail to give her better access.

Tracey and Kim were softly caressing each other's fingertips on the table as she recounted this tale. She looked at my dumbfounded expression, and smiled. "You never asked."

The girls went into the parking lot while I paid the check. I came out to find them leaning against my SUV, kissing softly in the moonlight. I stood there motionless, just soaking that scene in. I expected this to be a one-nighter, and wanted to remember every detail. Kim had Tracey pinned softly against the truck, one hand cupping her neck, the other just barely tickling at the waist of Tracey's skirt. Tracey had a hand flat against Kim's upper chest, covering the little hollow of her collarbone. Her other hand was gently gripping the small of Kim's back, just above the swell of her gorgeous ass. Both had their eyes closed, as their lips gently caressed each other. From my vantage point I could see tongues flicking in and out of open, willing mouths, wrapping around each other sensuously. Tracey moaned softly, as Kim's fingers slid into her skirt. I could picture her well-manicured fingernails touching smooth silk, and knew I had to get them out of here before someone walked out.

I unlocked the truck and gently encouraged them to climb in . As Tracey got in first, Kim gave me quick directions to her house, which was very close. Apparently we were leaving her car there, as she followed Tracey's beautiful ass into the back seat. I watched for a second as they continued kissing, then closed the door and got in front.

As I buckled in and started the engine, I watched them in the mirror. "Seatbelts!" I said, jokingly. Kim removed her hand from my wife's breast long enough to give the finger in my general direction(since she was too busy to look at me). I pulled out of the lot and headed for Kim's house. Luckily it was only about a ten minute drive. I was so distracted by what was happening in the back seat, we probably wouldn't have survived if I'd had to drive further than that, or go on the freeway.

Once we reached her house, it took another couple minutes to get them out of the truck. They were in full-on sex mode now, Tracey lying back across the seat at an angle with Kim between her supple thighs. Kim had opened Tracey's top even more, and was now working on freeing her large melons.

I managed to get them out of the truck, and followed behind them both as they sashayed to the front door, arms around each others waist, swinging those hips like a pair of pendulums. It was obvious both of them were wearing thongs, as the material of both skirts just barely settled between those globular ass cheeks.

Kim opened the door, and led us to her bedroom in the back. It was a nice little place, decorated very well. She appeared to have a roommate, as there was another bedroom on our route with the door closed and music playing softly.

Kim sauntered into her bedroom like a jungle cat on the prowl, pulling Tracey along by the hand. She didn't have a bed so much, as what appeared to be a huge pile of pillows. The whole room was decorated harem-style, complete with hanging veils, low seat cushions, and pillows piled up in a couple different spots.

Tracey gasped. "Oh, I love your bedroom. This is so cool!" She swung around, taking it all in. It really was a cool room, very unique.

Kim giggled. "This isn't my bedroom. Sleeping on pillows like that would just wreck my back." She smiled demurely. "This is our play room. Whenever we bring guests home for the night, we have our fun in here."

Tracey giggled, and slid back into Kim's embrace. They kissed some more, full lips meeting, tongues searching, chests pressed together. Tracey had tucked herself back in, lest the neighbors happen to be looking out the window. Kim now kissed down onto her neck, her tongue and teeth marking the trail south. Tracey quivered, and let her head fall back as she moaned through partially open lips.

Kim's nimble fingers made quick work of Tracey's shirt, and she pulled it open to reveal the lacey bustier. Her lips continued south, moving from Tracey's neck to the line of her collarbone. She nibbled softly, following the retreating shirt over Tracey's right shoulder. The left side followed, and soon only thin satin and lace was covering Tracey's chest, her white shirt tossed aside on a low hassock. Kim was kissing and nibbling all across the smooth skin before her, dipping into the valley of cleavage but not lingering. She would work down to the line of cloth, until Tracey thought she was going to expose a nipple and continue what she started in the truck. Then she would change direction and move back up to the neck. Tracey had her eyes closed, drawing in sharp breaths through her teeth and nose. She had her fingers entwined in Kim's dark hair, which now swung free about her shoulders. Tracey pulled Kim closer, using the dark tresses in her hands as a handle.

I kicked off my shoes, and settled back onto a cushion, enjoying the show. As they continued slowly undressing each other, I followed suit. I took my time stripping down to my boxer-briefs, and the two women still had most of their clothes on. I could tell this was going to be a long night. I slid the tight shorts down over my hips, allowing my stiff cock to spring out. It stood out like a pole from my body, precum already oozing from the tip. I took it in my hand and slowly began stroking as I watched the scene unfold before me.