This story is about my wife and my ex-wife. These all started on a rainy Autumn morning.
But first, some words about them. My ex-wife was a real beauty thirty years ago. Long black hair, big natural boobs, and her blue eyes were full of pure, strong, erotic vibes. I loved her. I owe an apology to her, she is still a good looking milf and her eyes are also full of those vibes, but thirty years have passed and we stepped into our fifties. In contrast, my current wife is younger than me. Much younger. Sixteen years younger. When we met, she had brown hair but her nature is black. She also has big natural breasts and sexy brown eyes, not so pornographically magical as my ex had but undoubtedly sexy. She is in her late thirties, as I mentioned above.
So, these two women somehow became friends. I must admit, this is rare. The ex is usually jealous of the new one, but we divorced without a savage war in peace. We just simply grew apart from each other and in the end, nothing was in common except the sex. To tell the truth, the sex was great, but nothing else.
Oh, and I almost forgot their names. My ex is Gaby and the other is Esther.
So, back to that rainy Autumn morning.
Esther woke up that morning and took a shower. She washed her hair, shaved her armpits and finally her pussy. She lightly caressed her pussy lips with the tip of her middle finger to check their smoothness and closed the water. She dried herself with a huge fluffy bath towel and spread a tiny amount of moisturiser across her freshly shaved skin. She thought a bit then choose a flowery-sweet fragrant perfume for that day.
At the same time, Gaby finished her bath in her two-bedroom apartment. Her smooth skin had a silky gloss as she pressed her boobs together with her hands and stated with a smile how well look they were. She knew her age, but she didn’t feel old. Her last serious relationship finished a few months ago. That guy was a great lover – with a huge dick – but he was a dickhead in other ways. So, she dumped him.
Esther chose a perfect outfit for that day. The tight shiny miniskirt and the matching top emphasized her figure. She had a bit more on her hips than she liked, but according to her husband that little plus was her sex appeal. The knee-high black boots and the slightly visible lace hem of her stockings added the last piece of her super sluttish look. She picked up her car keys from the desk, put on the shiny short raincoat, and walked out of the house. Five minutes later her cherry red Mini turned right at the traffic light, toward the sea.
Gaby shut the door of her car in the parking plot next to the old house. Her checkered skirt and a white blouse, with that long white socks, lent her a schoolgirl outlook; a bitchy one. As she walked toward the house Esther’s red Mini parked in the next place.
The two women stood politely at the door, waiting for the answer to the doorbell. The old man, who opened it finally, looked them up and down and stepped to the side to let them go in.
Peter’s phone chirped once as the message arrived. He checked it quickly, while he tried to not leat from the project meeting. Esther won’t be home to pick up their daughter from the school, so he should stop there also before the shop. But he hadn’t more time to think about this, he simply sent an OK and opened into the boss’s office.
But first, some words about them. My ex-wife was a real beauty thirty years ago. Long black hair, big natural boobs, and her blue eyes were full of pure, strong, erotic vibes. I loved her. I owe an apology to her, she is still a good looking milf and her eyes are also full of those vibes, but thirty years have passed and we stepped into our fifties. In contrast, my current wife is younger than me. Much younger. Sixteen years younger. When we met, she had brown hair but her nature is black. She also has big natural breasts and sexy brown eyes, not so pornographically magical as my ex had but undoubtedly sexy. She is in her late thirties, as I mentioned above.
So, these two women somehow became friends. I must admit, this is rare. The ex is usually jealous of the new one, but we divorced without a savage war in peace. We just simply grew apart from each other and in the end, nothing was in common except the sex. To tell the truth, the sex was great, but nothing else.
Oh, and I almost forgot their names. My ex is Gaby and the other is Esther.
So, back to that rainy Autumn morning.
Esther woke up that morning and took a shower. She washed her hair, shaved her armpits and finally her pussy. She lightly caressed her pussy lips with the tip of her middle finger to check their smoothness and closed the water. She dried herself with a huge fluffy bath towel and spread a tiny amount of moisturiser across her freshly shaved skin. She thought a bit then choose a flowery-sweet fragrant perfume for that day.
At the same time, Gaby finished her bath in her two-bedroom apartment. Her smooth skin had a silky gloss as she pressed her boobs together with her hands and stated with a smile how well look they were. She knew her age, but she didn’t feel old. Her last serious relationship finished a few months ago. That guy was a great lover – with a huge dick – but he was a dickhead in other ways. So, she dumped him.
Esther chose a perfect outfit for that day. The tight shiny miniskirt and the matching top emphasized her figure. She had a bit more on her hips than she liked, but according to her husband that little plus was her sex appeal. The knee-high black boots and the slightly visible lace hem of her stockings added the last piece of her super sluttish look. She picked up her car keys from the desk, put on the shiny short raincoat, and walked out of the house. Five minutes later her cherry red Mini turned right at the traffic light, toward the sea.
Gaby shut the door of her car in the parking plot next to the old house. Her checkered skirt and a white blouse, with that long white socks, lent her a schoolgirl outlook; a bitchy one. As she walked toward the house Esther’s red Mini parked in the next place.
The two women stood politely at the door, waiting for the answer to the doorbell. The old man, who opened it finally, looked them up and down and stepped to the side to let them go in.
Peter’s phone chirped once as the message arrived. He checked it quickly, while he tried to not leat from the project meeting. Esther won’t be home to pick up their daughter from the school, so he should stop there also before the shop. But he hadn’t more time to think about this, he simply sent an OK and opened into the boss’s office.
