The Limo Driver and His Wife, Part 3

Chapter Six: Sightseeing

It takes 43 minutes to drive out to my small garage, swap cars, and get back to Bar 9. Record time. I only speed a little. Until now, I’d been driving Chase around in a black Lincoln Continental, windows tinted for privacy. It’s my favorite car to drive in the city because of how well it handles and the size.

I swap it out for the Escalade, which looks even more conspicuous than the sedan, but instructions are instructions, and I have no desire to cross the likes of Veronica Larrson. I almost forget to grab the cowboy hat, I’m so preoccupied.

My mind is on Maggie and what’s happening in Bar 9. I drive like I’m in a fugue state, more by feel than anything else. I keep my phone up on the dash, unlocked and ready for incoming texts, but none arrive. No updates. No alerts. Nothing but deafening silence and the pressure in my chest as that silence grows and grows.

I think about my wife, Maggie. I’m not a jealous man. Or try not to be. I know my wife is beautiful and that other men flirt with her. I’ve seen it before, and we joked about it after. I trust her. She’d never cheat on me. But would this be considered cheating?

It’s a good question—one that I’m not sure how I would answer, let alone how Maggie would. I struggle with that as I roll up to the bar. I park where I said I would park and half-consider going in and seeing what’s happening when the doors open and Chase and Maggie spill out into the night.

They’re laughing, hanging off of one another the way drunks do at the end of a long night. Chase pulls out his phone, drops it, and laughs some more as he picks it up. Maggie glances across the street and sees my car. It’s too dark to read her expression, but she points at it.

Chase looks up, nods, and the two stagger across the empty street. I hop out, doing everything that I can to calm myself as my heart seems to be throwing itself against my rib cage like a caged animal. I open the door for them. “This is Brenden,” Chase says, letting go of Maggie and draping his arm around me. “And he is fucking awesome.”

He smells strongly of liquor and sweat. I look at Maggie, who bats her lashes coquettishly at me. “Nice to meet you, Brenden,” she says. “I’m Maggie.”

“Maggie is amazing.” Chase piles into the SUV, saying, “Wait, were you driving this before?”

Maggie giggles, staying outside for a moment and looking at me. Now is my chance to ask her what her game is, or tell her to stop, or do something. But she’s so full of energy, a ball of excitement and fun and playfulness, and I’m not about to snuff that out. 

I mouth, I love you. She mouths it back, and follows her celebrity crush into the backseat.

I shut the door behind them and draw a long breath of the evening air around me. I’m not drunk, but I buzz. My hands shake. My skin tingles. I feel detached from myself, the way I sometimes get when I’ve had one too many. The world swirls, and my emotions can barely keep up.

I get behind the wheel, and I’m myself again. I compartmentalize. I’ve seen so much in my driving days. This can be no different. “Where are we going?” I ask.

I don’t know what answer I expect, or what I hope for—‘we’re taking this young woman home’ or ‘back to my hotel’ or what. “Just drive us around,” he says. “Show me the sights of the city.”

But the only sight that Chase seems to care about is that of Maggie. In the back, turned to face Maggie, he holds up his black cowboy hat. “So you wanted to wear it?” he asks, continuing a conversation they must have been having in the bar.

“You’d let me?” For a second, I wonder if maybe this isn’t my wife after all. Maggie didn’t do the whole simpering-fan-girl thing. Then she chuckles. “Well, I’ll have you know that I don’t wear just any guy’s hat.”

Chase laughs, too, and slips it onto his own head. “Looks better on me anyway, although I like a sexy cowgirl.”

“I’m a girl now?” she challenges.

They were drifting closer to one another as they bantered. I did all I could to keep my eyes on the road, but every time I look into the rearview, they’re closer.

“No,” he says. “You’re definitely a woman.”

He moves in to kiss her. I hold my breath. If someone stepped out in front of the car, I probably would have rolled over them without noticing. Maggie turns her head at the last moment, pulling back. “What about him?” she asks, glancing at me.

“Don’t worry about me.” I don’t plan on saying it, but when the words are out, I know that they are true. She shouldn’t worry about me, about us, about what may happen. I see her smile at me, and it’s like stepping into the sun.

“He’s cool,” Chase says somewhere in the background of our moment.

And then it passes. We’re back in the car. The light turns green. Someone honks. Chase is brushing her hair away from her cheek and kissing her neck. She doesn’t pull away. Chase adds, “Don’t worry, he’s legally bound to keep quiet. Just pretend he’s not there.”

I swear, I see her eyes sparkle. She turns back to Chase. “And what if I like that he’s there?”

Chase sees the green light. “Hey, you know how much I love an audience.”

And this time when he closes the gap between them, she doesn’t balk. This time, when he presses his lips to hers, her eyes flutter shut, her fingers running along his facial hair, and she kisses him back.

I don’t feel the whomp of jealousy that I expect. I don’t feel the urge to slam the brakes and pull this guy off of my wife. I feel… turned on. Really, really turned on.

My heart hasn’t slowed. It beats hard and fast, pumping blood and heat through my body. It climbs up my neck and across my scalp. It fills my cock until I have to shift.

The two in the back don’t take notice. Their wet, smacking kisses fill the cab, along with the muted rustle of clothing. A quiet moan escapes Maggie’s throat. I glance into the back in time to see Chase’s hand disappear beneath her dress. He’s kissing her neck again as she clutches his hair. His hat has fallen free.

“Haahhh!” she gasps, shuddering. His fingers must have reached her sex. He’s touching her where only I have touched in years, and all I can do is watch with a hardon. “Oh—” She cuts her cry off, her breath catching, holding, and then, “Ohhh, yes!”

And then they’re kissing again—deep kisses, hungry kisses, I-need-to-fuck-you-right-now kisses. I’m so distracted that I don’t realize I’ve just pulled down Time Square. Even at 2:30 in the morning, it’s crowded. Towering screens cast the short stretch of street in enough light that it could almost be day here. 

We stop at a light. A group of young bar-hoppers starts cheering beside us at nothing in particular. Chase and Maggie look out at the group, no more than three feet away. “Can they see us?” Chase asks me.

“Not through the tint. It’s as dark as I can legally make it.”

Maggie sidles close to him. “What’s the matter? You worried about being caught with your pants down?”

“My pants aren’t down,” Chase says. The banter between them feels so natural. That, more than the physical intimacy, fills me with angsty delight.

“Let’s do something about that,” Maggie says.

If the windows hadn’t been tinted, reflecting back the bright lights of the square, all attention would have been on what was happening inside the back of this Cadillac SUV. Maggie goes to work on his trouser pants. He helps with the belt buckle.

“You know,” she says, “you don’t look half so bad in a suit?”

“Don’t tell my assistant. She’ll burn all my jeans.”

Someone honks behind me. I remember I’m driving, and press gently on the gas.

“You look better in jeans,” Maggie says. I hear the whisper of clothing and the crunch of the leather seats as they shift. “Even better without. Look at that thing.”

I glance in the mirror, catching his size for only a moment before I need to look back at the road. I see enough. He’s huge—longer and thicker than me.

“It’s all for you, baby,” he says. “All nine inches. Think you can take it?”

Her voice is husky as she answers, “Let’s find out.”

The leather creaks again. I catch fleeting images in the backseat as I divide my attention between the road and the mirror. Maggie shifts, lowers her head into his lap. Her hair falls around her as Chase groans.

Someone steps out in front of the car. I slam the breaks. “Jesus, fuck!” the guy yells, flipping me off.

Maggie laughs in the back. “You okay up there, buddy?” Chase asks.

“Yeah, sorry, just… distracted.”

Chase chuckles. “Maybe we should go back to the hotel.”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Maggie says. She winks at me. “Thought you liked an audience.”

With that, she takes him back into her mouth. He groans happily, reclining into the seat. I drive us out of the crowded Time Square and down 7th Avenue. 

Watching Maggie’s head bobbing up and down in another man’s lap—even just glimpses of it—is electrifying. Her blowjobs are as much about the performance as they are about the sensation. I never realized that until now.

She keeps her hair from her face, so when I do look back, I can see her lips stretched around Chase’s generous manhood. She takes about half of him with each bob, stroking the other half with her hand. Her tongue darts and swirls. Saliva dribbles over her fingers.

Chase lounges back in the seat, staring up through the moonroof. Towering buildings glitter down at him, glass and steel voyeurs. He laughs out loud. “Fuck, I love this city.”

Maggie takes more and more of him into her mouth. She makes a choking sound as it passes into her throat. I look back, just in time to see her press her lips into his trimmed pubes.

She backs off, sucking in air. “Told you,” she says.

I don’t know what she means by that. Chase says, “Guess I owe you another drink. You’re incredible.”

Maggie laughs. “How about you let me wear the hat?”

“Oh, for that, you’re going to have to do more than that.”

“I like a challenge.”

“Good, because I love challenging women,” he says. “Now get back to that dick.”

I wince at the demand, but Chase seems to pull it off with his natural charisma. Maggie doesn’t balk. She slathers his cock, trailing her tongue down his shaft and over his balls.

Chase sees me looking. “Love a chick who sucks the balls,” he says. “Don’t you?”

Heat rushes across me. I’m embarrassed and turned on and jealous all at once. It’s been a while since Maggie bathed my balls the way she’s doing now, but I still remember the incredible sensation.

Chase’s question is rhetorical, of course. He goes back to staring up through the moonroof as Maggie swallows him back into her throat. “This fucking city,” he says again.

I drive, focusing on the road now as I weave us through the brightly lit streets. I’ve never come without touching myself before. I wonder if I’m going to now. What I’m hearing back there is almost enough—the gags and choking, the ragged gasps for breath, and all the moans she elicits from Chase with her mouth alone.

Her left hand, I notice in one of my furtive, backwards glances, is buried under her dress, her wrist a blur. Chase notices a moment later. “Take the dress off. I want to see this body, baby.”

She doesn’t hesitate or tease. She sits up on her knees and peels the dress up and over her head. Beneath, she wears the green, see-through bra that I saw earlier. Her thong, however, is gone. Even in the dim light cast but the buildings around us, I can see how wet she is, slick and glistening beneath the short landing strip of pubic hair.

They kiss again. He pops her bra open. She wraps a hand around his spit-slippery cock and starts stroking. 

“You want it,” Chase says.

“You know I’m married, right?” she responses.

“He going to be a problem?”

“Well, you’re on my celebrity list,” she says. “But I’m not sure how serious that was.”

She jerks him faster, rubbing her naked body against his. He seems desperate. “You talked about it. I’d… I’d take him at his word…”

Maggie giggles. “What do you think, driver?” she asks me. “Do you think I should take my husband at his word? Or was the list just silly hypotheticals.”

I appreciate the question, even after all that I’ve witnessed now. If I tell her that she shouldn’t, I know that she won’t. But that’s not what I want at all.

“I say go for it.”

Chase grins at me, as Maggie shifts over him, naked other than her ankle boots. “You hear that, big boy? Looks like you owe your driver a mighty favor. You have a condom?”

“Yes,” he says, pulling one out of his discarded trouser pocket.

Maggie tears it open and rolls it on as I watch, my gut tightening. We pull to a stop at a light, just in time for me to watch her line Chase’s cock up with her pussy. She doesn’t look over her shoulder at me. She doesn’t pause. One moment, she’s over him, her buttocks clenched. The next, she’s sinking down on another man’s dick.

There are people close, milling outside a bar, smoking. They can’t see exactly what’s going on inside, but they might be able to see shapes. One looks over, does a double take. In the back, Maggie undulates on Chase’s lap as he runs his hands over her bare back.

The guy nudges his friend and points at our car. The light turns green. I pull us away.

“You feel huge,” Maggie says with a breathy laugh.

“And you’re so tight, babe. Your old man not enough for you?”

“More like you’re too much.” She braces herself on his shoulders and gyrates her hips. “Don’t you have a song about having too much of a good thing?”

“Fun fact,” he says. “I wrote that about my dick.”

She sinks over him, laughing and forgetting to fuck. “I knew it!” She giggles, quoting, “Winter, fall, summer, spring / Never believed in too much of a good thing.”

“Those lines have never been sexier.” He cups her ass cheeks. She shifts, too, planting her feet on the seat on either side of him to squat in his lap. Their fucking takes off again, energized, frantic. “I want to go faster. Brenden, get us up to speed.”

I turn us along Houston and pull us onto FDR Drive. The two lovers rut away, faster as we pick up speed. The back fills with the sounds and smells of sex. Chase pushes her back until she leans against the console. She grabs my headrest, her body exposed to the rockstar.

He takes advantage, caressing her naked body, cupping her tits and teasing her clit as his cock flexes inside of her. Maggie gasps. She’s close to coming again. I know it. I recognize it. “Oh, my… oh, my God!”

I feel her fingers tickle my hair. She may be fucking another man, but she hasn’t forgotten about me.

“Do it, Babe. Don’t hold back.” Chase thumbs her clit and pinches a nipple, thrusting up into her. “I sure as hell… am not gonna… hold… back!“

He thrust up and in, hard, his face red. My lungs cave. I forget to breathe. If I brush my hand over my pants, I’d probably lose it with them. So I focus on the freeway ahead of me.

Maggie goes off. Her fingers tighten in my hair. Pain flashes through me, clearing my head enough not to crash the car. Her orgasm rises and rises and another man pounds her with his big dick. “Uh! Uhhh!” she groans, manic.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Chase groans. “Fuck, fuuuck!”

Maggie’s breath catches. Even through the condom, she must feel him, his large cock throbbing and pulsing as he grinds his pelvis against hers. He pulls her close to him and kisses her hard. She returns it, releasing my hair to clutch his own. The two tumble back into the seat, making out as he fills his condom.

I find the exit to the freeway. I slow us all down. We’re all breathing heavily. My shirt is damp with sweat. The lovers in back are covered in it.

Chase picks up his hat and places it on Maggie’s head. She looks sexy like that, naked but for the boots and the hat.

“There, now you earned it,” he says.

She giggles. “How about tickets for your show tomorrow?”

“Hm… for something like that,” he says, and tips her hat up and away from her face, “we’d have to discuss your options back in my hotel room.”

“I see.” She glances at me before snuggling into Chase. “But for this transaction, I’m going to need delivery before payment.”

For a moment, Chase seems incredulous that she’s actually rejecting his hotel room offer. But then he grins. “You know the show sold out in ten minutes, right?”

“So I heard,” she smiles. “But I also know that I’m worth the wait. This was just a teaser.”

Chase laughs slowly. To me, he says, “Can you believe this, man?”

“I like her,” I say. “She’s feisty.”

“I do, too. Fine, Maggie. Give me a card or your number. I’ll be in touch.”

Maggie’s last name is different than my own—being a reporter, she didn’t want to change her name. It makes this exchange easier.

They pull themselves together, getting dressed as I pilot us back to the hotel. Maggie fishes a business card out of her purse, and Chase whistles as he reads it. “New York Times reporter. Maybe I shouldn’t get mixed up this. Can’t trust the media these days.”

“I always keep my informants confidential,” she says with a laugh. “Don’t you worry.”

I pull into the garage, skirting the front entrance entirely to avoid any chance of paparazzi seeing. The last thing I need is for the New York Post to feature a photo of Chase Morris kissing my wife goodnight. Instead, that kiss is reserved just for me, and it’s volcanic.

“Someone will be in touch,” he says, plucking his hat off her head and setting it on his own. To me, he says, “Take her home. And Brenden, thanks again for taking me to that bar.”

With a wink to Maggie, he slides out of the car.

Chapter Seven: Reclamation

I’m nervous as I pull out of the hotel garage, now that it’s just me and Maggie. I glance at her in the rearview mirror, but she's already crawling into the front seat with me.

This close, I can see the sheen of sweat that clings to her skin. The hairs along her brow are damp. “Hi,” she says as she awkwardly slithers into the passenger seat and kisses me.

I can taste him on her mouth—his column, his spit, the hint of something new and different. Or maybe it’s all in my head. I can definitely smell his cologne all over her, and my chest tightens. It’s a good tightening.

“Take me home,” she says.

She had fucked another man. She had another man’s dick inside of her less than ten minutes ago. She could have spent all night with him, but turned him down. All these revelations ripple through my mind as I pull into the New York street. It’s now past three in the morning, but I’m not tired at all.

Maggie looks at me nervously. “Are we good, Brenden?”

“Of course we’re good.” I hate that she even has to ask. “More than good. God, that was like one of the hottest things that I’ve ever seen.”

She relaxes into the bucket seat and releases an almost incredulous chuckle. “I still can’t believe that we did that.”

“Was it everything you ever fantasized about?” I probe.

“To be completely honest, I never actually fantasized about having sex with Chase Morris. Like, I never thought about the literal, physical act. I fawned over pictures of him in tight shirts or whatever, or what it would be like to flirt with him, but never…” She waves into the back. “You know?”

I hear her nervousness in the way she’s chattering, rushing through things, her cheeks flushed. “Okay, but was the sex good?”

Now her face goes really red. “Yes?”

“You mean you’re not sure?” I tease.

Maggie rolls her eyes. “Yes, it was fucking great. You watched.”

“I did, and you know what? It was fucking amazing. Watching you back there…” I’m hard and hot all over again, just saying the words.

“Yeah, and you know what?” she asks. “That was the best part—you watching. Chase was good, and he knows how to fuck, but I got the most turned on when I looked up and saw you staring at me in the rearview mirror.”

“Bull shit. You got the most turned on when he was drilling you. Save the sentimentality for someone else,” I say.

“Fine, fine. But it was pretty cool that you were there. Seriously.”

“I believe you,” I say.

She runs her hand over the seat of my pants, feeling my erection. “You better,” she says. “God, I’m still so horny.”

I laugh, prepared to say something about how Chase Morris couldn’t have been that good, when she starts to unzip my pants. “What are you doing?”

“It’s three a.m. I’m drunk. And I’m going to do something that I’ve always wanted to do.” She fished out my cock. “I’m going to give my limo driver road head.”

With that, she drops her head into my lap and takes my cock into her mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten back to our house in Queen’s faster.

***

I don’t come. Somehow, I hold out on that fast drive home, despite Maggie doing everything she can to get me off. I don’t want to waste it coming in her mouth. I want—I need—to fuck her.

We race into our bedroom, shedding clothing along the way. As she slips ahead of me, I take in her nude form. I’ve seen her naked every day for over fifteen years. I know how much I’ve taken this body for granted. As she turns to me and I check her out now in all of her full-frontal glory, it takes my breath away. How could I ever take those tits for granted, or the womanly curves that she’s earned in maturity. Her nipples are hard. Her pussy is pink and wet beneath the strip of dark hair.

The last man to be with her wasn’t me. Time to change that.

I’m upon her again, backing her up to the edge of the bed. We fall onto it as I focus on her neck. Her skin is so soft. I can smell Chase on her. It fuels my fire even more.

There’s no more foreplay. That was in the car—both with Chase, then all the way home. We’re both more than ready to go, and when I slide into her, she definitely feels different than when I fucked her last. She’s slicker, slippier. She’s been used.

“Oh, you feel so…” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s lost in our motion, wrapping those long, powerful legs around me and pulling me tighter.

She goes off, arching her back and throwing her hips into me. I’m right there with her, fucking her with short thrusts. I know this angle. I know just how she likes it. I drive into her g-spot, spinning her up and up until she’s screaming for more, more, more!

I grunt, releasing myself, my worries and insecurities and all of it, and feel once again one with my wife. It feels good, pumping into her, making that connection, feeling her accept me and squeeze me tight.

“I love you, Mags,” I sigh. “Always. No matter what.”

“I love you, too, Brenden. You have no idea how much.”

I roll away, onto my side. She turns to look at me, snuggling close. She pushes her knee between my legs so that our bodies entwine. “I think I have some idea,” I say. “After all these years, I like to think that I know you pretty well.”

Suddenly she looks shy. “Pretty well, but you know, I’m still learning stuff about myself.”

“Like tonight?” I prompt.

She nods. A strand of hair falls across her face. I brush it away. “The List was always just a… It was never something that I thought was real, you know?”

“Same.”

“Even last night, when we were joking around, that was just… joking.”

“And then I brought him to you,” I say.

She lights up, shedding some of the bashfulness. “Right! And I couldn’t figure out if you were trying to tell me something. And, argh, you didn’t respond to my texts, and Chase was so charming, and Tony left us alone, and… and I’m so sorry. It got out of hand.” She laughs to herself. “That’s an understatement.”

“Hey, hey, you’re spiraling.” I soothe her. “We were both there. I was there, right? We may not have talked about it in any serious way, but you didn’t do anything behind my back.”

“I would never,” she says.

“I know.”

We snuggle. The late hour finally catches up with us. Maggie, after all the drinks, falls asleep before I do. I hold her, watching her chest rise and fall, looking so peaceful. Despite what just happened, I don’t think I’ve felt this close to her in ages. When I fall asleep, I’m smiling.

Next part, Friday!