Chapter 01: Abracadabra
Desi loved surprises. That is exactly why she decided to drive over to the post office which was one quarter of a mile from her home rather than walk it as she normally would anytime she had an errand to run there. “Besides,” Desi thought, “How many times do I receive a certified letter?”
Momentarily lost in her own thoughts as she glided into the parking lot and coasted nice and snug between a truck and an SUV, Desi wondered if maybe her Lucas had something up his sleeve for her. Making sure she left her e-break on before reaching towards the passenger seat and grabbing her purse, Desi thought how great it would be to receive a surprise from her man. Sighing as she unraveled her mind for a few moments trying to remember the last time she had received anything from him other than flowers which were only used as a vice so that he could butter her up to inform him of his ‘other’ plans he had going on which did not include anything that Desi enjoyed or cared to do. It aggravated Desi a lot that Lucas would rather blow two hundred dollars a month on a mechanical toy that he did nothing with other than sink it into mud. Desi did her best to hide her dislike of the Arctic Cat from her husband. However, she knew that Lucas used things like his four-wheeler and his expensive taste in video games as an attempt to fill other voids in his life.
Two years prior when his father had passed, Lucas came home with the Artic Cat then last year after his grandmother’s death he decided to upgrade to a Playstation III. Since then Desi felt as if Lucas had forgotten her existence and she found herself drifting invisibly in his grieving haze of making up for what he didn’t have any more. Also, since Desi’s son, whom she had produced while still a baby herself and raised alone before marrying Lucas, was about to graduate high school and move away to begin college, she had decided to immerse herself in her writing as a way to escape her prison called loneliness. Despite the lack of communication and passion which Desi needed in order to live, she still loved Lucas very much as she thought of him two states away working all his hard muscles into overtime as he continued his toil to earn money for the bills and enough extra to blow on his own pursuits of pleasure. “At least he is trying more than he used too.” Desi reminded herself as she remembered their sexy night they shared the weekend before.
Though the two of them had started out as ‘just friends’ in the beginning and she had married him pleasing her family more than herself, the thought of cheating on him had never occurred, until the opportunity had been shoved down her throat. Desi was feeling extremely lost and lonely one night and Lucas was continuously cutting their phone conversations short, as usual, claiming that he was doing paperwork, or he had another important call coming in, and then the finale, “Baby I’m tired. I got to get some rest. I’m getting up at three am in the morning to head to Missouri. I will call you tomorrow night. I promise.”
Desi remembered the ache from the lump in her throat that came out of nowhere as she listened to her husband’s low voice speak through the receiver of the phone. “Okay.” Desi kept her emotions in control. “I love you.” She reminded him.
“I love you too, bye.” He hung up.
That night Desi had made the decision to not stay home alone basking in her lonely misery so she showered and dressed, dabbed on some makeup and perfume, careful not to put too much on because she was not trying to draw attention to herself. Desi just wanted no needed, human contact. Thinking back on that night now made everything seem like a blur of jumping into her Miata, driving as fast at the speed limits would allow and then all of a sudden she is tipsy on her third Corona bent over the pool table with her long hair the color of fire spilling down her back about to shoot the eight ball into the corner pocket while the smoky mist causes her to squint and the sounds of loud laughter and southern rock n roll are suffocating in the small familiar bar she had chosen to rid herself of her loneliness. Desi only went alone to places she was comfortable in and she was comfortable here since she had worked here before and the regulars still knew her by name.
Right after she watched the cue ball hit it’s mark and smack the eight ball in, Desi felt the soft touch of someone’s fingers touch her on the edge of her hairline right above her right temple as if to move her hair from her face, but instead, choosing to firmly grab a fistful of her fire red hair, softly gripping and pulling her closer to speak in her ear. Realizing that the hand belonged to a man, her heart multiplied in pace for a short few moments as she felt his sexy hot breath tingling her eardrum and causing a tiny vibration that prompted her to shiver slightly. His unfamiliar voice was higher pitched than her husband’s big Texas baritone sound, and his familiar accent was thick Deep South Creole rolling off his tongue and causing her to blush as he spoke, “Frisson joli?”
Though Dessi was from North Louisiana, she understood enough of the South Louisiana dialect to know that frisson meant chill and joli meant pretty. Dessi’s face lit up with a smile and she felt her face get hot as she recognized his Cajun tongue and she knew he was telling her she was pretty and asking her if she wanted another beer because she knew Cajun men called their beer chill since that’s the only way to drink it and they aren’t afraid to compliment whenever a compliment is due. Turning with wide eyes toward the stranger, Desi was sure she was crimson because the stranger was so good looking she felt her heart hasten its pace a few more beats as she fought to hide her attraction. Remembering who she was and what she was not within about ten supersonic star gazing seconds, Desi snapped out of it and motioned to her still nursing beer and tried to speak loudly over the music, “No thank ya sha! I’m still drinking this one!” And she picked it up and showed him her half-full bottle then followed with a smile she couldn’t remember smiling in years. “Thank ya, though!” she chirped.
Instead of responding with a “Your welcome,” the stranger put quarters on the pool table which meant he wanted to play her next game. Still unable to mask her flattery which was shining through her flushed face, Desi surprised herself by responding, “Lez le bon temps rouler!” Desi couldn’t hide her pride which shone through her golden eyes whilst she looked back at the stranger staring at her in awe. Shocking him with her knowledge of his native tongue she glowed as she warned him, “I can speak yore language too sha! I grew up right on that bayou in thu back, yeah!” With that she flashed him a teasing smile. Desi was hoping to ward the highly attractive stranger away using her friendly sarcasm but that only seemed to make him want her more because she was sure he was interpreting it as flirting.
All right, maybe she was harmlessly flirting but it made her feel better than she had been feeling earlier so mixed with the effects of the beer and pure electrifying attraction for this stranger, Desi ended up inside his motel room. The young hottie turned out to be ten years younger than Desi and he truly didn’t believe her when she told him she was thirty five. His name was Andre and he was married with children too, in town on business, and had a business partner name Virgil staying close by in another room.
Desi had accidentally met Virgil, who looked a bit older, lighter, and taller with longer hair than the younger hottie she was following on the way in to the motel. She remembered watching his shocking blue eyes that were shadowed beneath long loose coco colored bangs because Demi had a habit of focusing on a person’s eyes anytime she met them. The distant memory of the second stranger buried itself in her tipsy and lusty frame of mind probably because she was so quick to figure out that her young hottie’s business partner seemed to intentionally avoid making eye contact with her. Desi was always taught that no eye contact meant no trusted interest so she shrugged it off and left it at that.
“Ya burn?” he asked.
“Oh yeah!” Deciding not to let him know that she hadn’t been stoned in at least five years since her son had almost caught her smoking in the garage and she barely got away with it by convincing him he was smelling incense and not pot.
Choosing to sit on a small sofa in an attempt to avoid the bedroom area inside the suite, Desi did her best to present herself as a lady. Shifting in her seat, she nervously and unconsciously tugged at the front of her favorite pink cami. Right away she wished she were less dressed like the overworked and underpaid house wife she had become and more like the classy and sexy lady who was screaming to come out and play.
What was that familiar cologne scent that kept drifting under her nose and causing her to discreetly sniff the air harder in an attempt to inhale his pheromone? “Eternity?” Maybe that was it.
Whatever the brand, his cologne was magic to her senses as she didn’t object whenever he sat right next to her on the sofa and began to light up a joint that he had mysteriously produced. After playing musical lips with the joint a few times, Desi felt exhilaratingly relaxed. Excusing himself, Desi watched the young hottie named Andre stand up and step into the bathroom. The sensations of being high added to her aroused dilemma that she was desperately trying to fight. Before she could forget she was married, Lucas popped into her mind and she searched her memory trying to recall the last time this part of her had been stirred. “Poor Lucas.” Desi thought as guilt enveloped her.
No, even he had never aroused her the way this young hottie was successfully doing. Within the next second Desi realized that if she were to misbehave tonight, Lucas would never even know, unless she told him. Desi let out a long breath that she forgot she had been holding, uncrossed her legs, and closed her eyes for a second as she tried not to focus on the needing ache that was slowly beginning to throb within her womb.
The thud of the bathroom door opening and shutting stirred her thoughts and before she could react, one of his soft sanded hands is performing a Houdini as she felt it slyly make its way down the front of her worn denim Bermudas sneaking past unbuttoning or unzipping. Quickly, she sucks in a tiny bit of breath before his lush lips are piercing her own with his explorative tongue throwing fast jabs then slowing down to caress the flavor of his delightful prey. As fast as she can feel his fat fingertip glide its way into the folds of her wet slit and land directly on her engorged clit to wreak havoc, she feels one of her 38 C’s like abracadabra filling his fleshy groping hands. Two of his searching fingertips discovered her stiff nipples, “Oh my fucking-”Desi heard herself impulsively gasp while feeling her nipple tingle as he rolled it between his fingertips.
She was hooked, line, and sinker and he knew it as he slid his mouth down to nibble the depths of her neck. Desi knew it was too late for surrender and she ran her fingers upwards into the soft waves of his dark hair and he knew she was ensnared within his high-powered lusty trance. “Cum for me sha!” he whispered his hot breath forceful into her ear.
“Huh?” She gasped at his unexpected command.
Smiling like the devil at her, Desi was stunned and stared back into his smoky brown eyes as he ordered her once more. “I said I want ya ta cum for me sha!” And he began to flick her clit faster with his thumb while he forced two fingers in her sopping pussy. “Stand up baby gal!” He ordered just when he felt the walls of her pussy tighten and he yanked his hand out of her pants right before she came, leaving her starving for more.
Mesmerized with lust, Desi watched him place his fingers which were coated with her juice to his succulent lips and taste her before bringing them up to her own mouth and prying her own lips apart to thrust in her mouth and she didn’t protest when he ordered her to suck her own pussy juice from them. “Mm mm! Don dat pussy taste sweet? Ya got a sweet pussy sha!” Pulling his polo shirt off and allowing Desi to admire his hard earned sculpted muscles dotted with a few tattoos, he grasped both her hands and pulled her up on her feet so that she was standing in front of him. “No sha, I want ya on da table.”
“Huh?” Once again, she was shocked and wide eyed at his commands. Desi had never allowed anyone to treat her like this but, oddly, she found herself loving it too. Looking over the two foot tall cherry wood coffee table he wanted her on and hoping it was stable, she was hesitant to comply.
“Come on! I want let ya fall! He softened his tone as he convinced her to step onto it.
Everything suddenly became surreal as Desi found herself giving in to this younger man whom she had only met a few hours before and with her pussy now drenched and her tits bulging out the top of her cami she allowed him to lead her and she jolted at her own submission to him. Her ass was almost level with his head as she stood in front of him on the table top. “Come on gal! Get does clothes off! I wanna see dat wet pussy!” He began snapping his orders and yanking her britches down himself before she had anytime to respond. “Yeah. Now dat’s what I’m talkin bout!” She heard him exclaim while he admired her tight white ass clad in a pink thong.
Flinching beneath his masterful, surprising slap on the ass cheek, he told her to remove her bra and shirt too while he yanked her thong off and she managed to get her bra unhooked and her cami halfway off before he was already thrusting two fingers into her pussy again. As soon as she threw her bra and cami to the floor, Andre moved in front of her and ordered her to squat down.
“Squat?” Desi shuddered. No one had ever asked her to do such a thing but this man had already worked up her sexual psyche to the point of no return that she decided not to question him further and to just go with the flow.
“Dat’s right, I want ya ta squat.” Andre soothingly schooled her as he gripped her shoulders gently and guided her downwards so that she was squatting on the table in front of him with her pussy glistening spread out and on display all shaved except for the thin landing strip that, to his delight, matched the color of her fire red hair. “Eww wee!” He shouted to stress he was quite impressed with what he was seeing. “Red on da head an fire in da bed! Jus like I like em! Naw let me see ya play wit dem pretty tits sha!” Andre knew he was driving Desi mad hungry for him but he wanted to make sure she got the full effect before he fucked her juicy pussy good. His ultimate goal was to get into her tight ass.
Standing in front of her now she flinched slightly as he gripped a fistful of her fire red hair in order to keep her perched on her feet without falling with one hand, and with his other hand, he thrust his two fingers back into her slick pussy hole, turned his hand palm up, and bent his fingers into a ‘come hither’ and sought out her g spot as he said to her, “Yeah, I bet ya got a lot o’ juice een dat pussy. Mm hm! Let’s see how juicy I can make dat sweet lil fuck hole baby gal!” He ordered her to keep playing with her tits while he targeted her g spot, simultaneously amazing her with his knowledge as he began expertly manipulating her pussy like it had never been till the sounds of her pussy juices were creating a sloshing noise.
“Ooh! Ooh!” was all Desi could verbalize as she was dismayed and showed it with a look of bewilderment as her eyes glazed over at the pressure she was feeling. She almost felt as if she had to pee but she knew she didn’t because she had already used the ladies room in the lobby down stairs before coming to join Andre in this room. With a look of confusion clouding her mind and showing through her watery eyes, all Desi could do was look up at Andre while he coaxed her to accept what was about to happen and moan, “Ooh. It feels so fucking good!” As she withstood the thrashing she was receiving in her pussy she said to him, “Ooh fuck! Fuck my pussy!”
“Ya want me ta fuck ya pussy til ya squirt?” Andre asked her.
“Yes!” He felt his cock grow hard watching her lips tremble. “I want ya ta fuck me!”
“Say it sha!” Andre commanded her. “Say ya want yore pussy ta squirt.”
“I want my pussy ta squirt all ova yore hand!”
Just when Andre felt she was about to explode because he could feel the pressure building up in tiny spasms and throbbing underneath his finger tips where he had been probing on the upper inner wall of her pussy he suddenly stopped thrashing his fingers and delighted in seeing her actually try to buck her hips onto his hand as if she were trying to fuck his hand. “Ya eva squirted before?” Andre asked her tightening the grip he had on her hair from the crown of her head and gently but firmly forced her head back so that she had no choice but to look him in the eyes when she answered.
Delsi began to nod her head from side to side while she was still bucking wildly.
“I can’t hear ya sha!”
“No!” She pleaded as tears began to stream down her cheeks.
“No, I have neva squirted before!” Desi gasps again.
Andre allowed Desi a few moments to calm down. “Aw sha. Don fight eet. Let eet go.” He encouraged as he shocked her back into submission by suddenly and more aggressively thrashing his fingers upwards into her pussy against her g spot. He felt his cock fighting to break through his Levis as he grew stiffer from the sweetness of this sexy, tight assed, red haired beauty’s essence rising to his senses and filling the room with the hot aroma of sex in the air.
Grasping a nipple in each hand and pulling hard, “Oh mmy fffuucking gawd! Whoo!” Was all Desi could manage to verbalize as she uncontrollably watched in wide eyed amazement as Andre hurriedly pulled his fingers from her pussy and began to violently rub her engorged clit that sent her into an instant high voltage like state of euphoria causing her eyes to roll back while a hot stream of juice began flowing from her pussy like a fountain and splattering onto the cherry wood table top. “What de fuck!” Desi looked up at Andre almost as if he were a God because she had never experienced an orgasm so intense that she actually ejaculated and this man had just made her do just that.
Still squatting on the table top, licking her lips and wiping her tears of pleasure, Desi watched Andre unfasten his jeans; she heard them fall to the floor. Her eyes grew big as saucers when she saw his magnificent nine inch cock. Remembering Lucas own six inch cock being the only cock in her pussy for the last fifteen years, Desi wondered if she would be able to take him. Whether she could or not Desi was so fucking hungry for his cock that she really didn’t care if she could or not, she was going to make damn sure to do her best to make that big cock fit!
Andre saw Desi staring at his cock as he began massaging its swollen length up and down the shaft. Teasingly, he grabbed Desi by the head of her hair again and put the pre cum soaked head of his cock near her lips and said, “Here sha. Open dat pretty lil mouth of yours an suck dis cock.”
Opening her mouth as wide as she could, Desi felt his cock slide to the back of her throat as she tried hard not to gag. “Aw sha. Ya ain’t neva tasted a cock dis big before have ya?” Andre teased when he saw her eyes open wide up at him and heard her gurgle when his fat head hit the back of her throat.
Desi tried to answer him but all she could manage was a muffled “Mmhmph.” followed by a slight nod of her head.
“Ya thank ya can handle this fat cock in ya ass sha?” Andre taunted Desi more. For a split second Andre thought he saw a flicker of fear cross over Desi’s eyes at the mention of fucking her tight ass.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This one is a little rougher than …oh, just read it. No point describing it. The ending is kind of a downer.
I saw Carrie’s name on my cell and picked it up.
“Hi, Carrie, what’s up?”
“Jeff, I- I need to see you.”
It was not unusual for Carrie to call me unannounced, as she was married, and we saw each other only when she could get away. But there was urgency in her voice that I hadn’t heard in our nine-month relationship.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “You sound a little, I dunno, edgy?”
“Yes, yes,” she reassured me, “but please, could you come over? Right away? Something has, uh-m, come up. We need to talk.”
Uh-oh. The moment of truth, I thought. Her cheeseball husband Frank suspects something? Found out? I told her I’d be there in twenty minutes and scooted out of the house to my seven year old Toyota. I made my way on the familiar route to her house, from my side of town over to the upscale, ritzy side, where Carrie lived with her well-to-do husband, Frank, in their big house with the pool and all. Mind you, it was no sacrifice to be having an affair with a rich woman, but that’s not what our relationship was about. I thought about us, and our past, in the light of this potential crisis as I drove.
We’d met at a bar, of all places, but not one where I usually hang out. No, I had taken some part-time work for some extra cash with one of my friends, working a swanky bar as a bartender. Carrie was there with friends, and we got into a conversation that lasted, on and off, throughout the evening. In the end her friends left, and she stayed, talking to me as the crowd dwindled, and I walked her to her car before cleaning up after closing. There wasn’t even a kiss that night, but we both felt we’d made a special connection.
We met off and on over the next weeks, for lunch at first, then an evening date. I kind of suspected she was married, although I never asked, and she didn’t offer. She would call me when she had the chance, and I would meet her. We were seeing each other for a few months before we slept together, and she confessed her marriage, and she cried for deceiving me. I came to learn that it was loveless on her part, that she’d married a man she’d been attracted to, too quickly, and had grown accustomed to the lifestyle. But he loved her, he said, and she went along. She’d never planned to cheat, had told herself it was wrong, but then met me, and … well, we just kind of fell into it.
And by then, we were in love, deeply, the kind you read about, but never happens to you or anyone you know. Just being with her lifted my spirits, and when we were apart it hurt with a physical ache. I know she felt the same; she’d confessed as much, and the idea of her being married to a lout like Frank was disturbing. We had recently begun discussing out future, but she balked at the idea of divorce, she said Frank would never let her go. Her told her he loved her, but she told me he was possessive and controlling easy to anger, and suspicious. And I guess now, his suspicions were true.
When I pulled up in her long, circular driveway I pulled all the way up and around the side of the house, the way I always did. I’d been here plenty of times, as Frank travelled for work a great deal. I came back to the front and checked my watch: twenty-two minutes, pretty good timing. I knocked and waited. She answered, and the distress was clear on her face.
“Carrie, honey,” I said entering, “What’s the matter?”
And everything went black.
When I woke I was paralyzed and blind, and someone was driving an ice pick into the back of my head. As my eyes and brain cleared I realized that there was no ice pick, but the lump on my head throbbed with a sharp, piercing pain, and I was duct-taped to a chair. I wasn’t blind either; it just took a lot of courage and fortitude to open my eyes.
When I did pry them open I recognized my surroundings, it was the guest bedroom in Carrie’s house. I thought I saw Carrie naked on the bed and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to blink away the cobwebs without moving my head.
“Oh,” I heard from my left, “Pretty boy is awake!” I couldn’t turn, or move my head; I guessed that it, too, was taped to the chair. There was a shuffle, and Frank walked into my line of sight. “Nice to see you, Lover Boy!” he sneered. “Have a nice nap?”
“Wh-What’s going on?” I managed.
“What’s going on?” he barked. “I’ll fucking tell you what’s going on. You’re fucking my wife! That’s what the fuck is going on!”
I heard Carrie start sobbing from behind Frank, blubbering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. God, I thought, if he hurt her …
He must have seen my thoughts on my face. “Aww, isn’t that cute? Lover Boy is concerned for MY WIFE’S welfare.” He smirked, and punched me in the stomach. I grunted as the air blew out of my lungs, and would have doubled over if I hadn’t been restrained. “Fuck you, Jeffie! You like that?! That’s what you get when you fuck another man’s wife!”
Carrie was wailing, begging him to stop. I suddenly felt helpless and inadequate as the woman I loved tried to protect me from harm. I watched his face twist in a knot of fury as he spun and lunged to the bed where she lay, naked.
“Shut the fuck up, you whore!” he railed, leaning over the bed with his face inches from hers. It wasn’t until then, when she didn’t leap off the bed that I realized she was tied down, and my heart sank. I had a very, very bad feeling that this was not going to end well.”You fucking cheating WHORE! Shut up!” He was furious, spitting in his rage.
“Frank,” I called out, and his head snapped up to glare at me, eyes wild. He leaped towards me, stopping his face with our noses almost touching.
“You got something to say, Lover Boy?” he snarled. I heard Carrie’s terrified sobs, and I remembered the punch. I spoke softly, trying to be reasonable.
“Frank, this doesn’t have to happen; it doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Oh, yeah, like YOU get a fucking vote!” he spat. “Trust me shithead, you have no idea how it’s going to be.” I tried to imagine the worst that could happen, and saw myself in the hospital after a vicious beating, and I cringed as he stepped away. He straightened, and looked at each of us, and his face took on an amused and barely sane expression.
“Well, I have some things to take care of, so why don’t you ‘lovers’ have a little chat?” He strolled the room. “Get in touch with your emotions,” he spit, the sarcasm dripping evilly from his voice. “Share your feelings.” He strode to the door. “Profess your UNDYING love. I’ll be back shortly.” He stamped out and closed the door; I heard the lock click solidly.
Carrie was moaning and and crying, and I called to her several times before she quieted enough to answer. She immediately started apologizing, and resumed sobbing. I asked what happened, and she explained that he’d had her followed, confronted her, slapped her around, and forced her to lure me here. She apologized profusely, and I told her it was all right, I understood. She finally became silent, interrupted by occasional hitching breaths.
“What do you think he’ll do?” I asked. “What’s he capable of?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed,” I’ve never seen him like this. I- I’ve seen him angry before, and he’s been, you know, rough sometimes, but I’ve never seen him this angry.” I struggled in my chair, despite the pain in my head, but found it was futile; I was strapped in good.
“He wouldn’t, you know, uh-m,” I started, afraid of saying the words, “kill us, would he?”
“Oh, Jeff, I just don’t now,” she bleated, and began crying again. I called to her several times before she calmed enough to talk again.
“Carrie, I want you to know, that whatever happens, I love you. However this night turns out, I still love you, will always love you. I’m sorry I got us into this mess, sorry for the trouble.” She sniffed a little, and mewled her misery. “I- I…I’ll do whatever I can to protect you.”
“No, baby, it’s not your fault. I don’t regret a single moment of what we have, and I wouldn’t change a thing,” she called to me. “I think I hear him coming!” I watched as her body tensed, as if bracing for a blow in her bonds. As footsteps approached I looked at her, so beautiful, even in her bound and vulgar state, her fine, smooth skin glistening under the harsh lights with a sheen of sweat, and her breasts jiggling as her sobs began anew. Between her legs I could see her perfect shaved vagina, and I suppressed a feeling of guilt for looking. The steps got closer, and then I knew there were more than two feet approaching.
The lock turned and the door opened. Frank entered, and three other guys and a girl entered, big, nasty, biker types. The guys were burly and hairy, and the woman had a hard look to her. All wore an assortment of black leather and denim, looking like real rough trade. My testicles pulled up into my body in fear.
“Well, Lovebirds, have you made your peace and said your goodbye’s?” The knot in my stomach clenched and I knew, for certain, that I would be killed. “I would introduce you, but let’s face it, there’s really no need,” he chuckled evilly, and the other four laughed with him. “These are some, shall we say, ‘Business Associates’ of mine, and they are going to give me a hand solving my problem tonight.” He motioned with his chin in my direction, looking at two of the thugs.
They loped to me, and one suddenly slammed his fist into the side of my face. The other took a few hard punches to my midsection, and I gasped for breath, trying not to lose consciousness as the blow to my head shook me, making my vision dance with flashing lights. As my hearing and vision returned, I heard laughter and Carrie’s screaming. Opening my eyes I saw the leather chick pulling her nipples, hard and away from her body, turning her beautiful breasts in to cones, stretched painfully from her chest. I managed half a word of protest before a fist smashed into my cheek, and blood poured from my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” the bearded one commanded. I remained silent, waiting for my vision to clear. I heard Frank jeering at Carrie.
“They’ll beat him to death, you know that,” he was saying, and the knot tightened in my chest. “You want to save him? Huh? You want to save your Lover Boy?” Carrie was howling in pain, and I could see the leather bitch had attached something to her nipple. Frank motioned to her, and she removed it, and stepped back. He put his hand under her head, and lifted, making her face me, and motioned to the two thugs.
Blows rained down on me. I heard them grunting with the effort, heard Carrie shrieking in horror, begging them to stop, and then I heard nothing, saw nothing, and soon felt nothing.
When I came to, I heard muffled voices, and then my body greeted me with a world of pain, and I wished fervently to slip back into unconsciousness. There was no escaping it, though, and as the sounds and voices became more clear I remembered where I was, and how I got there, and I remembered Carrie. I forced my eyes open.
I had been moved closer to the bed, near the foot and facing my married lover. I heard the girl say that I was coming around, and someone threw water in my face. I tasted blood in my mouth as my eyes cleared. Frank’s face suddenly filled my field of vision again, a visage of evil and hatred.
“Well, Lover Boy,” he sneered, “How are you feeling?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I mumbled through my mashed lips. It hurt to talk.
“Still got some fight in you, eh? Don’t matter,” he said casually, standing and moving away. “We can beat that out of you. No matter how long it takes.”
“No, please, leave him alone, please,” I heard Carrie pleading, and I was taken by my impotence at having my lover beg for me, trying to protect me.
Frank turned to her when she spoke. “You want to save your Lover Boy, whore?” he laughed. “Good. Isn’t love and devotion wonderful to see?” He came back to me then, his face pushed into mine, so I could feel his spit as he hissed his threats at me. “My whore wife wants to spare you some suffering, Jeffie Boy. Isn’t that nice? And I’m going to give her the chance.” He was speaking low, just for me. “But you’re going to wish that we had beat you to death before it’s over,” he chuckled. “You’re going to get to see just what a slut whore she is.” He put his hand on my face, and then slapped me, hard; jarring my consciousness and reviving the sharp pains in my head and face. When I reopened my eyes he was back at Carrie’s side.
“Well, my whore soon-to-be-ex-wife, you want us not to beat your little boy toy to death? Is that what you said?”
“Please, Frank, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt him anymore, please…”
“You can save him,” he told her, loud enough for me to hear. “Beg me for his life.”
“Please Frank, please don’t…hurt him, please I’m begging,” she whimpered. She didn’t say kill, but I was pretty sure they would.
“I’ll give you a chance to save him,” he gloated. “My friends came here for some fun. I promised them a really good time,” he turned to me, and flashed a victorious grin. “They can have fun beating him to a painful death, or,” he turned back to her, “they can have fun with you. He reached for her nipple and twisted it painfully, eliciting a squeal from Carrie. “Will you entertain my friends? Will you show them a good time?” He pulled her nipple again, and then slapped her hard. “Well, whore? What’s it going to be? You or him?”
“Please, Frank, please don’t make me…”
“Fine,” he told her, and turned to his thugs, who were lounging in chairs around the room. “Have at him.” They shuffled to their feet and looked at me with dispassionate interest.
“No! Please!” Carrie shrieked. “I’ll- I’ll do whatever you want, please, don’t hurt him,” she cried.
“You’re sure, slut? We can just beat him senseless,” he laughed.
“Please, I’ll do what you say, whatever you say,”
“And you’ll be good to my friends?”
“Yes, anything, just please don’t hurt him,” she whimpered, and I felt my male ego respond, remembering his threat.
“Carrie, don’t,” I managed to squawk. Frank ignored my feeble outburst.
“Don’t you resist, bitch. You cooperate, and we’ll spare your little boy,” he warned evilly. “You be good to my friends; be a good whore and do whatever they want.”
“Yes, yes…I…” she cried, “whatever they want, I’ll be good, just please don’t hurt him.” Frank stood then, and waved his friends into action as he came to me. He put his face into mine again, speaking just for me. “You wanted her?” he leered. “You can have her. But first you get to see what whore she really is.” He spit in my face. “See if you still want her when we’re done!” He smiled maliciously, and turned away.
I cringed at the thought of what they might do, but nothing prepared me for the level of his angry revenge or the depraved desires of his ‘associates’. The first thing they did was untie her legs from the bed posts; she had been partially spread, her pussy showing but not overly exposed. They took the ropes and stood on the bed, threading them through eye hooks in the ceiling. Then they stepped down off the bed and pulled the ropes. Carrie groaned in dismay as her ankles were pulled up and out, her legs extended straight up and pulled wide apart, pointing at the ceiling. Her pussy spread wide open.
Almost immediately the three thugs began undressing. I never learned their names, and in my awful memories they are simply Beard, Brute and Bald. Bald was the first with his pants off, he was a large, broad-shouldered and hard-faced man, and his cock, semi hard, matched his stature. He went directly to the bed, still in his tee shirt, and knelt next to Carrie’s head.
“Open up, baby,” he said to her, waggling his fat cock, “Start sucking like you want it!” Carrie made some whimpering sounds and turned her head.
“Oh, it’s gonna be like that?” Frank bellowed from the seat he had taken, and motioned to the girl, who I recall as Skank. Skank stood and came to me, and slapped me hard across the face. Then again, on the other side. Though my clouded vision I saw her pull her hand back, but Frank said, “That’s better. You do it and like it like you know you do, cunt.” Skank stepped back, smirking at me, and I briefly saw Carrie’s head bobbing on Bald’s cock as he pumped his hips into her face. But then my view of her was blocked as Brute stepped between us, and I saw him line up his cock at her pussy, and my heart stopped.
His cock was huge, with a fat bulbous head, and he pushed the big head inside her without preamble. I heard her muffled cry as he penetrated her, and watched her lips spread around him briefly, before they were pushed inside her with the force of his thrust. He pulled out.
“She’s fucking dry as a bone,” he announced, and climbed off the bed. Skank moved off her chair, but Frank stopped her. “Not you,” he said, pointing at me. “Him.” He grinned, and joined Brute behind my chair. They dragged it, with me still in it, to the foot of the bed, and leaned the chair forward till my chest rested against the edge of the bed, and my face was inches from Carrie’s spread pussy, the pussy I loved to lick and suck, the pussy of the woman I loved.
“She’s saving your life, Jeffie Boy,” I heard Frank say over the slurping sounds of the cock pumping Carrie’s mouth. “Show her some appreciation.” I could hear the grin in his words as I felt Skank’s hand on the back of my head, pushing me into her.
“Lick it, bitch,” she rasped, “Get it nice and wet for some cock!”
My lips were pressed against her opening, and I knew that if she remained dry and tight, Brute’s big cock would tear her apart. Against my will my tongue slipped into her hole and began teasing her, trying to stimulate her. I pushed my saliva inside her as I licked, hoping it would ease the passage of her defilement that I was powerless to prevent. I heard her moan at my touch; she still wanted me, and only me, I knew it in my heart, and I reacted with my mouth, licking her labia, sucking her pussy the way she likes, and slowly moving up to her clit.
Her hips pulsed up into my face, and when I reached the top of her pussy, found her button beginning to grow. I licked around it, shamed at my eagerness to please her while her husband and his thugs watched me and conflicted about my purpose. But she responded to my tongue, and I knew that she did because it was me, and that she appreciated my efforts to minimize her potential discomfort. I worked harder then, spurred by her response despite my surroundings, and licked around her clit, teasing her aroused button to full size, and listening diligently to her responses and verbal cues as to what was working for her.
When her humping increased against my face and her moans became steadier, I felt hands pull me back from the bed. But instead of dragging me back they pulled me to the side, so not only was I only a little over a foot away from her wet, spread-open pussy, but when Brute stepped back to her crotch I could still see around him, where Bald was holding her head still with his hands and was fucking her face. Disgusting noises came from her, a “gug-gug-gug,” as he banged his cock into the back of her mouth. But I was distracted by Brute, who pushed himself halfway into her on one stroke.
“Oh, yeah, much better,” he chortled, and he gripped her thighs, hard, and announced, “hang on, slut, you’re gonna love this.” I watched as he pulled back a little and shoved his entire shaft into her, splitting her pussy wide around his fat shaft. She screamed around Bald’s cock, and I saw her eyes opened wide as he pushed in, deeper than she could take. It had to hurt.
She lifted her hips in an effort to get away, to pull her pussy back from the brutal assault, but Brute hung on and began pounding long, hard strokes into her. I winced for her every time he went in, knowing what she must be suffering from the cries she tried to emit from her stuffed mouth. As I looked at her face Bald pulled back, and using his hand, began striking and rubbing his cock on her pretty face. I saw Skank get up and walk behind me, coming back into view on the other side of the bed. She took Carrie’s head in her hands, holding the sides of her face, and hooking her fingers into Carries mouth. She pulled, and my love’s lips stretched wid.
“Open, bitch,” Skank told her, and Carrie obeyed, her mouth gaping open with terror in her eyes. Bald spit into her mouth, and then drove his cock into her face, halfway, then pausing; then pushing until it slipped in further, and I heard her gag, and then he pressed his pubic hair to her nose. His ball sack squashed against her chin and her eyes bulged, and I saw her throat bulge from the invasion.
And she vomited, a yellow and white viscous fluid shooting out around her lips, into Bald’s pubic hair, and he pulled back and shouted as Skank released her head, laughing.
“Fuck! The bitch puked on me!”he barked. He climbed off the bed as Skank pulled her hair back. My poor love gasped for air, choking as I looked on helplessly. Brute was still battering her pussy to wet pulp, my face barely a foot away, wet sounds insulting my ears as he fucked her hard, Bald went for a towel to clean up his genitals, and Skank released her hair, climbed off the bed, and stripped her pants down.
“I’ll clean her up,” she said, as Beard dropped his pants, and began removing his shirt. Naked from the waist down and wearing a black leather vest, Skank climbed over Carrie and squatted over her face. “Here comes the rinse cycle!” she announced, and Brute lunged his cock all the way in her, to the base, making her mouth drop open as she cried out. As she screamed from the deepest penetration she’d ever endured, a stream of fluid trickled from Skank’s parted legs, turning into a full stream hosing as she released her urine into Carrie’s desperate face. I closed my eyes, unable to watch as Skank pissed on my lover, Brute quietly holding himself deep inside her, the room silent but for the splashing of urine rinsing the vomit from my dear lover’s face, and her gasps and sputterings as she struggled for breath around the offensive stream, and laughs from the onlookers.
I heard the splashing subside, and opened my eyes to see Skank climbing off, laughing. Beard went to her head then and held his cock near her face.
“Take it, sweetie, don’t make me force you,” he warned, and her eyes, still stinging from urine, blinked rapidly and settled on his throbbing erection. “Go ahead, take it. Want it. You know you do,” he teased. I watched her mouth open as she brought her head to his cock, and wrapped the head in her lips, those lips I loved to kiss. Her cheeks sunk in as she sucked him, pretending to enjoy it to protect me from harm, and my heart sunk and shattered. My poor, lovely girlfriend, pretending to enjoy this stranger’s hard cock in her mouth, making herself do it enthusiastically, just to save my worthless hide. It was devastating.
Bald returned to the scene then, stripped completely now, and tapped Brute on the shoulder. Brute nodded, and pulled hi shaft slowly from Carrie’s pussy. I watched as each inch of his massive tool emerged, wet and slick, and I took some small comfort in arousing her for his meat. As the head emerged her lips stretched, seeming near to split her open, and she groaned as he held it just inside her opening, keeping it at the once-tight ring of her vagina. Then it popped out, leaving her red, swollen pussy wide open, and I heard her sigh, as if from dismay. Bald and Brute laughed.
“She fucking loves my cock, man,” Brute muttered.
“Well then, she’ll really enjoy this!” Bald answered. And lying on his back, began lifting Carrie’s body up, Bald assisting, until his prone body was beneath hers, both on their backs, his cock up between her legs. Skank appeared, and squirted some jelly on his cock, and stroked his shaft as I watched, fearful of what might happen. Carrie was still sucking on Beard’s cock as if my life depended on her enthusiasm, when Skank reached between her legs and pulled her ass cheeks apart. Holding them open with one hand, she took Bald’s shaft in the other, and forced it up between Carrie’s cheeks, aiming the tip at Carrie’s tight back door. Carrie tried to wiggle her hips away, but to no avail.
Bald reached over her body and grabbed her nipples, twisting and pulling them. “Ask for it!” he grunted. “Beg me, or we will beat your boyfriend bloody!” Carrie pulled her mouth off Beard’s slick shaft.
“P- please,” she stuttered, and my heart broke, knowing that she would beg for mercy, and that they would deny her. “Oh, please,” she repeated, pleading, “Please put your cock in my ass and fuck me!”
As my heart stopped Bald pushed his hips up, and Skank held his cock steady for him with one hand and pushed down on Connie’s pubic mound with the other. The head of his cock pushed at her delicate crinkle, then opened it, and pushed inside. Carrie howled.
“That’s right!” Bald yelled into her ear, “Take it. Fucking beg me for more!”
“Please,” Carrie cried, and I could see tears in her eyes as Beard’s cock rubbed her face, streaking her with her own saliva and his pre-cum, “Please, put your cock in my ass!”
“Say it dirty, bitch,” he instructed as he pushed, and she cried out as his head pushed further inside her stretching her rear hole.
“Fuck my ass! Fuck it hard! Shove you hard cock up my dirty shit hole and fuck me!” I was crushed by the lengths she was going to in order to protect me, and my helplessness brought tears to my eyes. Through my weeping I could make out his blurred cock, about halfway inside her ass, slipping further, until it was buried inside her tight back door. The insertion distended her pussy outwards, making it bulge towards me, and opening her more. I thought I saw her juices running out of her open hole, but it was probably my tears. Then Brute returned between her legs.
“I’m back, baby,” he growled, “don’t leave me hanging. Tell me like you told him!”
“Oh, fuck, yeah, give me that big cock,” Carrie encouraged him, her head lifted up, and glaring at him, eyes bulging wide. “Shove that fucking man-meat in my cunt and fuck me in my pussy and ass!”
“You got it!” he sneered, and in one thrust shoved his entire length inside her, opening her pussy wider, filling her pussy, and making her tummy bulge up from the two cocks inside. She howled in her degradation, and her voice tore at my heart, but her cries were cut off as Beard returned his cock to her lips, and she opened and sucked in most of his length, gagging herself, knowing she needed to sacrifice her throat for me.
Skank was at my side, laughing and wiping my tears, and whispering in my ear as the three big men ravaged my girl, my love, against her will, enforcing her sacrifice. “She’s some slut, huh, Jeffie Boy?” she goaded me. “Look at her taking all that cock!” She had not put her pants back on, and her leather vest hung open now, exposing her obviously fake tits. She put her face next to mine, rubbing her cheek on mine as she leaned over my shoulder, watching Carrie get fucked by her three friends. “I thought she would resist longer, didn’t you? I mean, she was all scared, and begging and all, and then she kind of went along, for your sake,” she laughed derisively. “But look at her now,” she breathed hotly into my ear. “That’s no act, eh, Jeffie?”
Still unable to turn my head, I was spared the malicious grin I heard in her voice. But I was not spared the vision I had when her words pulled the veil of my love’s delusion from my eyes. Carrie was sucking madly on Beard’s cock, slurping and licking and pushing her head down on the shaft, forcing herself to gag on his length, all the while pumping her hips in time to the powerful thrusts of the two men impaling her ass and pussy. Occasionally Beard would pull his cock from her mouth, rubbing the slicked shaft over her face, and she would coo and mewl her desire, until he cajoled her to urge them on, and she would spew a string of vile filth to the cocks debasing her. I felt my breath escape me as I watched Brute’s massive tool pump what was once her love nest, but was now a wet, stretched and swollen fuck hole. His shaft was slicked with her juices, and the excess flowed down below her pussy to lubricate her clearly eager ass hole.
“Fuck my ass, give it to me hard,” she cried out, “Oh, God, you’re splitting me in two with your giant cock, you bastard, fuck my cunt! Fuck me!”
“Fuck, this is so hot, my pussy is dripping,” Skank hissed. My eyes darted down to see her hand slip between her own legs, and then come up to my face. I smelled her scent, and she smeared her fingers across my closed lips as her other hand grabbed my cock. “Are you getting hard watching your girlfriend fuck like a whore?” As she rubbed my crotch I realized, to my shame, that I was indeed hard, and she laughed softly in my ear. “You worthless piece of shit,” she chuckled, “getting off on seeing your lover fuck three men at once. What kind of man are you?” She squeezed my shaft hard as she spoke, and my guilt and humiliation made me wilt in her grasp. I would have hung my head if I could, but had to close my eyes tightly to stop seeing the reality.
A change in the grunts and wails bade me to open my eyes again; I saw the men jerking spasmodically now, thrusting hard jerks into her ass, pussy and mouth. Beard bellowed and pulled his cock from Carrie’s mouth, shooting multiple ropes of thick semen across her open mouth and face. She didn’t turn her head; rather she laid her tongue out flat, trying to catch as much as she could. Then Bald began yanking her nipples as he grunted loudly, and I could see his balls clench; the giant globes in his sack pulled up tight as he dumped a load of his own into her bowels. The excess formed a white frothy ring around his cock at her dilated anal muscle. And then Brute howled, and drove his cock deep into her. She screamed as he stretched her deeply, shooting his load, filling her once-lovely pussy, and turning it into a messy, cum-filled used cunt. My breath caught listening to her coax them.
“Oh, yeah, fill me up, fill my ass and cunt with your hot cum, fuck, I can feel your cum in me.” I stared at her face with dismay, seeing it coated with gooey white streaks dripping down her chin, one eye plastered shut, cum on her nose, and covering the lips that cooed her delight. “O-oh, yeah, fill me with cum, it’s so hot, so fucking hot in me…” Her words trailed off and disappeared with my love.
I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed until I felt the chair move. I was being pushed towards her, still fixed in my chair, and again they leaned me forward, my eyes opening just in time to see her two holes, gaping open and swollen, leaking gobs of thick, disgusting semen, and then Skank was pushing my head down, pressing my face into her crotch. The harsh smell of cum assaulted my nose right before my mouth was pushed into her, and the pool of liquid smeared into my face and chin.
“Clean it out, Jeffie Boy,” Skank urged, “Lick that cunt and ass, suck the cum out of your slut!” I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, my nose was pressed into her clit, and my mouth opened for air, only to be filled by a glob of hot cum as her hips pulsed.
“Lick that cunt, lick that ass,” I heard, and I swallowed, trying to clear my mouth to breathe as Carrie’s hips hitched higher, my nose slipping into her gaping pussy as her spewing asshole met my open mouth. Another spurt of come filled my mouth as I gasped for breath.
“Lick that ass, suck the cum out of my ass,” I heard, but not Skank this time, it was Carrie, urging me to clean her out, to love her cum-filled ass and pussy with my tongue and lips, and my devotion to her answered her as I speared my tongue up her used asshole, licking out the residue of her anal violation. I heard her respond, sighing softly at my attention, and cleaned out her ass, and then she lowered her hips and I did the same for her used and battered pussy, soothing her opening with my tongue and lips, sucking the offending fluids from her, cleaning her out and swallowing the vile offering. And then she lowered again, offering me her hard clit; for me, I thought, trying to convince myself still, her clit is hard for me, and I licked her hard, the way she likes it when she’s ready to cum, and she humped my face, responding as she always had, and drenched me in her juices as she climaxed on my mouth.
I licked her through her orgasm, feeling the pulses in her pussy as she rode the wave of her delight, for me, I told myself, only for me, not for them, I denied. I soothed her aching and abused lips and opening with soft tender strokes of my tongue and gentle kisses as her crest peaked, and subsided, and then she was still.
My face was still pressed by my weight into her wet crotch as the room went silent. Tears filled my eyes as the realization of what she had done, what I had witnessed and done, came crashing into me. I heard motion behind me, and words spoken quietly, but couldn’t hear them, didn’t WANT to hear them. I heard clothes rustling, and then my chair was pulled back upright, and turned to the side.
Frank was there. The thugs were untying Carrie. Frank looked at her, then at me. “Get out,” he said. “You wanted her; you can have her.” There was a look of disgust on his face, and I didn’t know if it was for me, or for his wife. “The slut’s yours, now. Both of you get the fuck out.” I felt a tug behind my head, and saw the flash of a long blade as Skank cut the tape away, and then again as my arms, chest and legs were freed. I turned as they dragged Carrie’s limp body off the bed and threw the used, wet sheet on her.
“Take her, Lover Boy, she’s all yours,” he laughed, and his crew laughed with him. I stood stiffly, the smell of pussy and cum still in my nostrils, and bent to help her up.
“Her clothes,” I managed, and was struck hard in the back of my head, making me see stars and reviving the sharp pain from the previous blows.
“Fuck you!” Frank shouted. “She leaves here the way she came to me, with nothing! Get her the fuck out!” I bundled my love’s used body in the sheet, still wet and stinking of piss, and helped her to her feet. Head down, properly subdued and defeated, I slinked out with my arm holding Carrie on her feet, and we made our way out of Frank’s house of horrors.
For three days she stayed in bed, and I didn’t go to work, staying home to take care of her. She didn’t speak, and hid her eyes from me, even as I bathed her. She wouldn’t eat, and I could barely get her to drink water. When my boss threatened to fire me I had to go back to work. I left food and water at her bedside, and reluctantly left the house.
When I returned home that evening she was gone. He cell was on the kitchen table next to a certified mail envelope, and the divorce papers from Frank. I glanced through it. She would get nothing. I looked at her phone; there were no recent calls, but there was one text message.
SIGN IT. YOU SHOULD SEE THE VIDEO.
My heart sank and I collapsed in a chair, wondering where she was, what she was doing, and how she had reacted to the letter and the news of a video, which I had to assume was of her ordeal. After a while I busied myself making dinner, but never ate, hoping she would return, and things could go back to normal, or at least we would be together. I know she was suffering inside at enjoying herself in front of me, and was tormented by the demons she knew lived inside her, just as I was still shocked at her behavior. But I knew my love for her could rise above out problems; I could get past it, if she would just let me in, talk to me, be with me again, like before.
Eventually I stopped puttering aimlessly around the house, and settled on the couch to watch nothing on television, wondering all the while where she was and what she was doing. I was awakened in the middle of the night by a sound, and sat up to see her staggering up the stairs. I called to her but she didn’t answer, so I followed her up, catching her as she entered our small bedroom. I grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, and as she spun she lost her balance and fell, sitting, against the doorway.
She reeked of alcohol, and was clearly drunk. She slurred some unintelligible words. I reached for the light switch and turned it on, and she winced against the sudden brightness, her head lolling to the side, her legs splayed out beneath her short skirt. It had ridden up as she fell, and she was not wearing underwear. I saw cum leaking from her pussy, and noticed her shirt was torn and open, and there were remnants of cum in her hair and on her face.
I sobbed as I undressed her and took her into the bathroom, and soaked her in the tub, washing the results of her night away, as though erasing the evidence would erase the facts. I was still crying when I helped her to bed. I didn’t go to work the next day.
Our life continued like that for several months, in silence and growing despair. The divorce finalized, and we tried to get her some new clothes, but honestly, I don’t make all that much money, and I had been missing work, so money was tight. Every once in a while I would come home from work and she’d be gone; the next day would begin another series of days she couldn’t look at me, and more that she wouldn’t talk. She never told me what she did or where she’d gone.
After a few months of erratic attendance, I was fired, and we decided to move, to another city, a new job a fresh start, we hoped. Before leaving we had a long talk, about us, about her behavior. I still loved her, and told her so. She admitted that she loved me, and quietly admitted her shame at enjoying the abuse she’d suffered, and her guilt and confusion at how she had behaved. She apologized for her behavior, and promised to try to talk more to me, but she confessed a weakness, a need to blot out her memories. She knew she drank too much, too often, and admitted some drug use, and confessed that she had done ‘things’ while under the influence.
I forgave her all her transgressions, and promised that a new start, somewhere new, would be best, and she agreed half-heartedly, and promised to try and be strong, for me, for us.
The first few weeks in the new place went by all right, but she soon became despondent and sullen and sad, and moped around the house. In my new job I could not take time off to watch her, and left the house daily hoping for the best. But one day I came home and she wasn’t there, and I knew the cycle was starting again, and I felt my connection to her crumbling despite my love.
She didn’t come home for three days.
Her disappearances continued then, becoming more frequent and often spanning more than a day. As was always the case she would come home drunk or hung over, or stoned, or coming down from a high, and always used and defiled. We began fighting about it. Once I came home and there were strangers in our rented house, drugs and alcohol everywhere, and she was in the bedroom, bent over the foot of the bed getting fucked in the ass as she ate another woman’s cunt. I blew a fit, and threw everyone out of the house, and she argued with me, and left with them.
She didn’t come back.
I didn’t see her again for five years, when I came home from work one day, and she was sitting on my front steps with a duffle bag. She stood as I approached, and I looked at her, drinking in the vision of her, older and thinner now, looking like she had aged ten years in the five that had passed.
“Hello, Carrie,” I said, holding myself away from her. I felt the familiar stirrings of my feelings for her, but with them came the warnings of betrayal and abandonment, and I held myself in check.
“Hi, Jeff. Long time,” she said cautiously.
I looked down at her bag. “What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound non-committal. She was blocking my path to my own door, but I didn’t want to create a scene.
“I wanted to come by and say hello,” she said softly. “I’ve been … away.” She looked up at me, searching my eyes hopefully. “How have you been?”
“Good,” I answered vaguely. I was doing well at work now, but my personal life was a shambles of failed relationships and missed opportunities. “Work is going well.”
Accepting Our New-Found Desires
The following morning was strained to say the least. We had carried out our accustomed weekday routine as though nothing strange had occurred the night before, Claire getting the kids up and making breakfast; me taking them to school as typically happened when I was off work.
This time though there was an underlying tension. Yes we had conversed and acted normally, but all the time sought to avoid looking each other directly eye-to-eye as we rushed around like any outwardly conventional couple with two school-age kids. When I returned home I was hoping to discuss things with my wife; hoping we could have some private ‘our’ time to try and work out exactly what had happened to us. However, I found Claire dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and obviously about to go out.
“I need to have a little time to myself. You don’t mind do you Bob?” she asked, her voice terse, not really asking the question but more informing me as to her plans. “I’ll have lunch out, you fix yourself something and I’ll be back in time to pick the kids up.” With that she picked her keys up and swept out of the front door before I even had time to react.
I was left alone with my thoughts, my mind replaying the events of the previous night. I poured myself a mug of coffee, sat at the breakfast bar and attempted to read the morning paper. Finding it impossible to concentrate on the paper due to the flashbacks of what had been recently taking place in our lives; I eventually gave up and decided to go out myself.
I really love driving my car. It’s a BMW M5 with all the bells and whistles and, like the adverts tell us, it truly is a driver’s car. I don’t often get chance to just ‘drive’ the beast. Usually I am either going somewhere specific or running some sort of family errand, so it was a pleasant change just to be able to enjoy my ‘man-toy’ as I drove East and up into the Peak District.
I was able to contemplate what had been happening to me; to my life, and most importantly, how these adulterous dalliances on both mine and Claire’s parts had affected our marriage, and what effect they would have in the future. My emotions were all over the fucking place, one minute my eyes streaming tears of regret and shame, the next my cock rigidly hard as I thought of my depraved acts with Bella, and perversely, how the thought of young George’s long thin cock pounding my wife’s pussy and arse could inflame my lust as much as it did.
A couple of hours later I came across a country-style pub that looked over the river Derwent. Ironically the pub was on ‘Hope Road’ which brought a smile to my face. I went in, ordered a home-cooked beef sandwich and a pint of the local beer from the slightly ‘brassy’ looking but very attractive, middle-aged blonde woman behind the bar and sat down at a table by the window.
“I haven’t seen you in here before.” the barmaid said as she put my pint and sandwich on the table, her voice disturbing my thoughts and causing me to jump slightly as I hadn’t noticed her approaching.
“Sorry,” I laughed, feeling my face redden with embarrassment, “I was miles away there.”
“Yes, I could see that. You look like a man with all the troubles of the world on his shoulders.” she replied, smiling as she took the seat opposite me, “Want to talk about them?”
I looked closely at her for the first time, noticing her heavy use of make-up and lipstick that hid what was actually quite an attractive face.
“No I’m fine thanks,” I said softly, my eyes roaming the nearly empty pub and noticing the only other occupant was an old guy sat in the corner with a flat half pint of beer. Looking across at the bar, I could see behind it a thick-set, overweight bloke studiously wiping glasses as he glared at me and my uninvited companion.
“We don’t often get good-looking single men in here of a lunch time,” she whispered softly so only I could hear her, her hand reaching over the table to come to rest on top of mine.
“It makes a very pleasant change for me to have someone nice to talk to apart from old Fred over there.” she continued, looking me directly in the eyes as she licked her lips suggestively, her fingers caressing my hand.
“And the guy behind the bar?” I asked, removing my hand from her grasp and taking a drink of my pint, “He looks as though he would like to talk to you.”
Her eyes never leaving mine, she replied, “Oh that’s just my husband. He doesn’t mind me talking to strange men, or anything else I may like to do with them.”
What the fuck!… I thought as she again grasped my hand in both of hers, “This total stranger, a woman I had met only a few minutes before, was making it obvious she wanted to have sex with me. Has the world gone totally sex-mad?”
“He doesn’t look as though he doesn’t mind to me. He looks as though he is about to come over here and tear my head off.” I replied, again extricating my hand from hers.
“Oh he may well come over here, but he’d rather watch you fuck me than thump you. He gets off on strangers having his wife when he’s watching… Has done for years.”
I shook my head in dismay. Was I the same as that poor bastard?… Did I want to watch Claire being fucked by a stranger?… Was it the ‘norm’ nowadays for men to share their wives’ bodies like that?…
I had to get out of there. The woman was actually quite attractive in a ‘rough’ sort of way, but there was no fucking way I was going to provide the afternoon entertainment for her and her cuckold husband.
Finishing my pint with one gulp, I threw a £10 note on the table and snatched my sandwich before almost running out of the pub to the sound of her laughing as she shouted after me. “Come back any time, you’re more than welcome.”
I jumped in my car and tore out of the car park, wheels spinning and sending gravel flying everywhere in my panic-stricken haste to get away. I started laughing as I drove. Laughing at myself mainly, but also at the absurd realisation that ‘cuckoldry’ seemed to be the modern way in some marriages. I’d just stopped for a quiet lunch and found myself embroiled in a similar situation to what I was in at home, but this time in some other stupid bastard’s marriage. Was that really what I wanted?
I arrived home just after Claire and the kids. The two little ones were tearing around like normal, everything at full volume as they argued and laughed with each other. My wife was in the kitchen preparing an afternoon snack for her and the children.
“Would you like a sandwich?” she enquired as I entered the room.
“No thanks love, I’ve had a pint and a snack while I’ve been out. I’ll wait for supper if that’s OK, a coffee would be good though.” I replied as I sat opposite her at the breakfast bar.
She poured me my coffee and looked me enquiringly in the eye, “You went out for lunch too?”
“Not really!” I answered, taking a swig of the hot liquid, “I just had a drive round for a while and stopped up in the hills for a quick pint.” I pondered telling her about my experience with the want-a-fuck couple but decided it was probably best not to divulge quite everything. “I needed to think too, it was good just to get away for a while.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, my mind has been racing too.” she muttered quietly, acknowledging my quandary.
She took the kids their snack and glasses of water through into the family room and returned, taking a seat opposite me and picking up her mug of coffee.
“I actually met Lizzie while I was out. We had quite a chat.” she laughed.
She obviously saw the look of surprise on my face and again smiled mischievously before explaining, “Yes, we had ‘that’ chat.
“You mean?…” I stuttered, my face showing the amazement I was feeling.
I was shocked. How could she divulge to a relative stranger what had been happening to us? Especially the mother of the teenager she had had her revenge fuck with.
“You may not have noticed but Lizzie and I have become very close over the last couple of years. She’s like the sister I’ve always wanted. I can talk to her about things I would never dream of ever discussing with my mother.”
I shook my head slowly, my eyes betraying my bewilderment, “You women,” I laughed, “You discuss personal things together as though you are talking about a shopping list. Don’t you understand even the concept of privacy?”
“Perhaps if you men were the same, and talked about your feelings with your friends, then there would be a lot less problems in the world.”
“You discussed ‘everything‘ with her?” I asked, “Even the fact that you and her son…?”
Claire nodded. Finishing her drink she rose from her seat and started to go into the family room to check on the children.
“I’ll tell you everything later, when the kids are in bed. We’ll retire early so we’ll have the ‘privacy’ you so desire.” She had a huge smile on her face by then as she was clearly amused at my reticence with regard to discussing our private life.
We went to bed early as she had requested. Claire had made a wonderful home-made pizza and salad followed by pistachio ice-cream as a special treat for the children. I must say it was a treat for me too; she is a marvellous cook when she is in the mood and her pizza dough is to ‘die’ for. Even though it was still daylight outside, the kids had gone to bed happily stuffed and very tired with all their running around so were asleep almost before their heads hit their pillows.
I had followed Claire up to our room after locking up the house securely and found her already in bed when I got there. After showering and shaving I wandered into the bedroom to discover my gorgeous wife sat up resting against the headboard. The cover was only up to her waist, and to my huge delight, she appeared to be naked, her beautiful breasts exposed to my gaze.
She was reading a magazine but that didn’t obscure the wonderful view I had of her dark brown tipped, creamy white breasts. Taking a chance that maybe she was totally naked underneath the cover, I stripped completely. My cock twitching slightly as I looked at my hopefully naked wife, I drew the cover back to discover my dreams had been answered. Her legs were slightly splayed leaving her freshly shaved pussy open to my lustful gaze, causing my inquisitive member to get firmer with ever second as it responded to the incredibly sexy view I was seeing.
Raising one eyebrow provocatively, she closed her magazine and placed it on the cabinet at her side of the bed before she spoke in her best seductress voice.
“Well?…Are you going to stare all night or are you going to join your horny wife?”
Now any straight man in the world would have been unable to refuse an invitation like that and I was not about to test that theory in the slightest, so, leaping onto the bed like an over-eager virgin, I grabbed the gorgeous woman I loved so much and pulled her naked body against my now rock-hard penis.
“Whoa there big boy!” she giggled, “I thought we had to talk?”
Lying back, I reluctantly released my grip on her and pulled her gently to my side, placing my arm around her shoulders and softly filling my hand with her available breast.
Taking a deep sigh, I said quietly, “OK my love, you talk, I’ll listen.”
Chuckling happily, she asked, “Do you want to wear your mask again?”
“Mm mm, yeah I think so,” I replied, “I must admit it was very sexy just being able to hear but not see you last night.”
After placing the mask over my eyes and totally blocking any light from reaching them, Claire again snuggled against my prone body, her hard nipples massaging the side of my ribs as she reached between my legs and gently gripped my, by then, almost painfully hard cock.
“You really want to know how my young lover fucked your wife’s cunt?… How he bent me over and forced his long cock into my tight little arse?… How I sucked him until his cum spurted down my throat?…” she teased, tormenting me as she filled my befuddled brain with disgust that was totally overwhelmed by lust.
“Oh Fuck Claire!…” I gasped.
She released her grip on me then, leaving my twitching cock dripping its pre-cum all over my stomach and placing her arm across my heaving chest.”OK, you asked for it,” she giggled again, “Who would have thought that I’m married to a kinky pervert? One who loves to hear about another man fucking his wife.”
Gently stroking my naked chest and occasionally teasing my own tiny erect nipples she continued her tale of her debauchery.
“I told you last night about how George had prematurely cum in his pants at the mere sight of my body so I’ll start from there.”
“I took his hand. The poor kid was shaking with embarrassment as I made him stand up again. I was extremely nervous myself at what I was about to do; how I was going to have sex with another man other than you for the first time since we have been together; my first ‘new’ cock for over 17 years. I took his face in my hands and gently kissed his lips, no tongues, just a soft, gentle kiss. I then began to undress him, undoing his belt before pulling his t-shirt over his head, he’s much taller than me so my mouth was only a little above his nipples. I bent my head slightly and licked his little nubs before nibbling them gently with my teeth – I know from you just how much you men like to have your nipples played with, just like the rest of us really.”
Pausing for a moment, she gave a soft, sexy chuckle and performed the self-same act on my own little nips, causing my cock to let loose another drop of sticky pre-cum.
“I kissed his mouth again before I undid his jeans and pulled them down off his sexy little bum. The randy sod wasn’t wearing any underwear, so that explained the huge wet patch he had produced when he came earlier. Anyway, his cock sprang up and slapped me across the chin as I bent forward to remove his pants from his feet. Have I mentioned before how long he is?” she teased, giggling as she flicked my own twitching penis with her finger.
“Fucking hell Bob! It was so damn exciting and naughty. Holding another man’s cock like that, knowing that it was soon going to be pounding my hot sweaty cunt. I had forgotten just what a thrill it is to hold a new penis for the first time, and I must admit my darling, the act of revenge never crossed my mind at that moment. All I wanted was to have this young man take me in the most nasty way I could think of.”
I almost came myself then, the thrill of my seemingly unrepentant wife telling me how much she had wanted to fuck someone else proving almost too much for my over-excited cock. Sensing my predicament, Claire paused for a short while, allowing my excitement to die down slightly. I felt her leave the bed for a few minutes. Still unable to see anything, I could hear her moving around followed by the clinking of glasses as she poured us both a drink. Her side of the bed dipped as she returned and put a glass of my favourite scotch to my lips. After allowing me to take a big gulp of the strong liquor, she removed the glass from my mouth and lay down and cuddled up to me again.
Taking a deep breath, she continued.
“I couldn’t resist it, you know how much I love to suck your cock, I just had to have him in my mouth. Off he went again, his hot cum spurting down my throat as he tried to force his cock even deeper. He did actually get further down there than you ever have, but I think that was more to do with how much thinner his cock is than yours than how much longer it is.
Poor George, he had cum twice in a few minutes and he hadn’t even touched me yet. He was babbling away like an idiot, trying to apologise for his lack of control, but I was just amazed that he was still as hard as steel bar.
I made him sit again. Doing my best to be as natural as possible, not wanting to overexcite him again, I casually started to strip the rest of my underwear off. I had to laugh to myself as he begged me to keep the garter belt and stockings on, even though he was only 18 he already had the fetish that seems to be inbred in you men.
His face was an absolute picture as I exposed first my tits and then my newly shaved cunt. I found out later that mine was the first ‘real’ naked female body he had ever seen. I tentatively asked him if he was actually still a virgin and when he embarrassedly confirmed my suspicion, my pussy almost flooded, my juices dribbling down my inner thighs. I don’t think even in my youth I had ever had a ‘virgin’ before. I decided I wasn’t going to use the pack of condoms I had bought earlier that day, I knew I was safe and he obviously was too. Yes Bob, I had had myself tested after I found out you had been fucking that skank Bella.
I felt my face grimace at her words. Shame that I had forced my wife to put herself through the anxiety of those tests filling me with remorse and disgust with myself. I kissed her gently on the top of her head and apologised profusely once again for my part of the situation we found ourselves in.
Sensing my sorrow, Claire just cuddled up to me for a while, her fingers softly toying with my chest. A few minutes later, she gently kissed my lips and continued.
“I pushed him back on the sofa and slowly mounted him. I hardly felt him as he entered my sopping wet pussy. I am used to being stretched by your lovely thick cock and his is nowhere near as wide as yours, but Jesus, I felt him enter my cervix he was that long. I know you are over 8″ so he must be 10 at least. It was all so new to me; I came almost immediately as soon as our loins met.
Thanks to his previous two unexpected orgasms, he was still hard as I calmed down. I started to move nice and slowly, the way I know you like, feeling him going deep into my womb. I pulled his mouth to my breasts and forced my nipples into him, telling him to suck me like a baby. It wasn’t long, even after his previous cummings, before I felt his body begin to stiffen and he spurted another load of cum deep into my body. The warm wet feeling instigated my own second orgasm and we climaxed almost simultaneously, his hot cum mixing with my own as the sticky mess dribbled down my thighs.”
I hugged her close and whispered to her, “You hot little slut!… I am so fucking jealous of that boy. I hope he knows just how lucky he is, the little shit. I wish I had had such a wonderful hot, sexy woman when I lost my own virginity.”
Fighting the urge to either ravage my wife, or at least, take myself in hand, I begged her to continue.
“I felt so wanton and sluttish, any previous inhibitions I may have had seemed to go right out the window as I climbed off him and immediately took him in my mouth again, sucking and licking our combined juices off him until he was clean once more. I know I have never liked doing that when you and I have made love, but…. well you know. You did all sorts sorts of things with Bella that you said a man shouldn’t do with his wife and I suppose I felt the same.
Anyway, I lay back on the floor, my legs wide apart, showing my dripping cunt to him. I told him he had to return the favour but had to explain exactly what I meant as he had no idea about giving a woman oral sex. He didn’t seem at all bothered that he would be licking his own cum as well as mine and just dived in there. I have got to say, his lack of technique was frustrating at first, remember I am used to you being such a great fanny licker, but after a few well-meant instructions he finally got me off again and I flooded his mouth with my pussy juices. I pulled him up my body until we were face to face and slowly licked all my secretions off his soaked face and tongue-kissed him in a way he said he had never experienced before.
Author’s Note: Recently my wife shared a fantasy of hers involving a seductive meeting with a supposed stranger in Italy. Both of us decided to write our own version; this is mine. Hers is posted in the “Erotic Couplings” section under the title “Meeting in Rome.” Mine is playful and sexual; hers is heartfelt and romantic. Hopefully one will appeal to you, if not both. Enjoy!
I sat in the lounge, swirling my gin & tonic, absently tapping a finger to the piped music. Nothing about this trip had lined up as it should have: a week in Florence, now on my second day in Rome, with nothing to show for it. My backers would not be pleased, but I was not concerned with their disapproval. I’m too much of a professional to place anything above my own standards.
I drained the glass and placed it on the table. My mind considered alternate solutions to my current situation. While I was annoyed that weeks of planning and subsequent arrangements had not panned out, in my work one must accept chaos as a matter of course and find ways to function within it. The unknown is not to be feared. It must be managed.
Like magic my empty glass was replaced with a charged one, and I crushed the lime as I looked about the lounge at my fellow lizards. An elderly couple at the table across from mine; a married couple in the corner booth. Two suits–blue and charcoal, both pricey–sitting at the bar, talking rather loudly but without animation. This pegged them as my countrymen, Nature’s rudest and most despised creatures, true banes of the civilized world.
It would be truly ironic if I were not proud of my country, and that was indeed not the case. However, I do appreciate why Europeans are not impressed with the average Yank. These two were comparatively refined from the average tourist: fit, well-dressed, surely international businessmen with an eye for cultural awareness and possessing enough understanding thereof to not step too badly on their cranks.
But I would be shocked if either of them spoke more than one language besides English, and even by the way they sat at the bar, their body language screamed cocksureness and dominance, also clear giveaways of their heritage.
They do not offend me, however, nor am I embarrassed by the American inflection to my Italian. I could polish it out like I did with Russian, but, like most Western Europeans, I have found that Italians appreciate an American who has taken the time to achieve fluency in their language. The Germans do, too. For whatever reason the French get annoyed. So, I just tell them it was the easiest to learn, and not worth the effort to master. That gets them riled up.
My eyes returned to the g&t as my mind wandered back to the issue at hand. It would eventually resolve itself, but that would defeat the entire purpose of my contract. I was here to speed things along. I am a catalyst, but I cannot influence something that isn’t there. Hence, my problem. I frowned as a foreign rhythm interrupted my thoughts.
The deep clicking of her heels approaching through the far hotel lobby carried through the dusky room long before she came into view. I was already facing the door, so it was a small matter to shift my eyes when she entered, gracefully walking toward the bar. At a glance, she was not Italian; Oriental, or partially at least, with long hair and a slim figure. Mid-20′s, attractively dressed in a knee-length skirt of shimmering black and blue silk and a simple but elegant black blouse, sleeveless with a flattering deep-vee.
My eyes followed appreciatively for two steps longer than usual. I don’t need to stare to capture a body in my mind’s eye. Moreover, after a certain point it becomes disrespectful. Up to that point, however, I choose to interpret my attention as a compliment to her effort and natural beauty, which this one certainly deserved.
The couples remained oblivious to her entrance, but the businessmen did not. The one facing the door nudged his pal and thrust his chin over the other’s shoulder. He turned and both watched her all the way to the table she picked, which happened to be behind mine. I had long since stopped looking at her directly, but my peripheral vision and hearing were tuned to her movements as she pulled out the chair behind mine. She moved gently but surely.
The waiter brought her a menu and she thanked him in a smoky mezzo voice. Now I was intrigued: she walked with a full armswing–very un-American–but her careful diction carried a hint of the South. I dropped my work problem in favor of this amusing conundrum of a hybrid Asian with a central Texan accent who moved like a Continental.
Not surprisingly, I wasn’t the only one to do so. Apparently the businessmen figured the table was close enough to make it acceptable to hail her from across the lounge. Gauche.
“The house red is quite good,” the one in the blue suit called out.
After a moment, she replied, “I’m afraid I don’t drink wine.”
“Well, that’s alright,” he said, a smile in his voice, also Texan, but metropolitan. “What’s your poison? Can I buy you a drink?”
Another pause, then, “Thank you. I enjoy anything with an amaretto base.”
Blue laughed. “Well, this is the country that invented it. I guess that’s a good choice.” He loudly called over the garçon (his word) and ordered an amaretto sour for the ‘little lady.’ “Just put her on my tab.”
She closed the menu and Charcoal spoke up. “It’s nice to run into another American here,”–like that was some kind of miracle in Italy’s capitol–”Where are you from?”
“Austin! Unbelievable!” Blue cut in. “I’m from Dallas, and this man here tells me he’s from Houston! Why, we’re all practically neighbors compared to where we are now, and we Americans should really stick together over here.”
She didn’t reply as the waiter arrived with her drink. She thanked him again, and was answered with a “Prego.”
“To the Lonestar State, God’s own country.” Blue raised his glass and after a moment Charcoal followed suit. Apparently she joined them in the toast, but did so slowly enough to keep the ice from clinking in her glass. The pair took this as a sign of progress and asked to join her table. Between them and me, we heard different things in her response: they heard her voiced agreement while I heard the pause preceding it.
The conversation which followed varied between Blue telling a story about himself, Blue asking her simple questions which segued into more of his anecdotes, and Charcoal interspersing one-liners and clever responses that mocked his counterpart, which Blue never quite caught.
She politely followed their seemingly pointless meandering, chuckling occasionally but never giving any indication that she was actively returning their attention. This didn’t appear to matter to either of them, as they spent more time trying to one-up each other rather than focusing on her and trying to make a real connection. However, their voices slowly grew in volume, a subconscious attempt to capture her interest. Also, two more amaretto sours made their way to the table as well, though with no discernible effect.
Drinking slowly, my own glass had long since been replaced with another, but when this one emptied I caught the waiter and asked in Italian for a White Russian. As he approached, I cocked my head slightly over my shoulder so that she would hear my “Thank you.”
One-one thousand, two-one thousand–there it was: the expected sound of silk rustling on leather.
“Wait…didn’t you order that in Italian?” she asked, this time over her shoulder.
I finished sipping, playing off for a moment that I didn’t already know she was talking to me. Then I turned and looked into her darkly-lined hazel eyes.
A hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. “But you just ‘thanked’ him.”
I replied with an equally little smile. “I guess being this close to so many Texans has wrecked my international concentration.”
Her eyes lidded and her mouth twitched, but before she could respond, Blue piped up. “Hey, buddy, you’re American, too? Why don’t you join us?” From the tone in his voice, he considered me to be non-threatening, and by inviting me over, he was implying that he was in charge. Wrong and wrong.
“No, thank you; there are already too many people sitting at that table.” I was still looking back at her.
She caught my inflection immediately. “May I come over there and make ‘two’ at your table, then?” she asked. Oh, I do like the sharp ones.
“Of course. I believe this is a free country.”
Even if I was only a convenient escape from these two fools (though I had reason to suspect otherwise), I was more than happy to provide that service for her. The way her eyebrow arched when she asked was reward enough, though the look on Blue’s face was nice, too.
She turned back and fetched her drink. Standing, she thanked the stunned pair for the drinks while I reached across the back of my chair to slide hers under the table. I stood as she pivoted and we walked around opposite sides of my table to the other chair, which I held out for her.
Returning to my seat, I noticed the Suits were shooting daggers at me, and I couldn’t resist. Feigning confusion, I looked at their hands and held up my own, wiggling the third finger. “Hey, guys, what happened to your wedding bands?” I glanced knowingly at their faces, pausing at the strange smile coming from Charcoal, then dismissed them as I took my seat, finally allowing myself the pleasure of looking directly at her.
Japanese, but at least one, probably two generations removed, with a lightly freckled face, slim shoulders, and perky B-cup breasts which surely didn’t need a bra but enjoyed the flattering support of one anyways. I had snuck a glance at her back as she sat; the tight fit of her blouse hinted at very fine definition of shoulder and spine. The aforementioned hazel eyes were returning my assessing gaze. I found myself deeply curious to know what color her nipples were.
She was trying not to smile too overtly at my dismissal. I fixed her with a similar knowing look. “I could ask you the same thing. Why is he not here?” I opened.
She held up her ringless hand, making a show of inspecting it. “What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “I don’t need a ring to see. When you walked in, you glanced around, then looked down in mild frustration. You look lovely, and though you do not need to make the effort to do so, tonight you did, but not for their benefit,” I thumbed over my shoulder, then at myself, “Or for mine. So you are here on your first night in Rome, alone. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
She looked at me suspiciously for a few seconds, then laughed and shook her head. “You are good. Yes, my husband is late. I was hoping to surprise him by showing up here two days ahead of schedule, but apparently he still has business to finish up in Zurich.”
“More’s the fool,” I said, tipping my glass to her with a grin. “So you married a fat, old banker with loads of cash who treats you to international trips and showers you with praise and all the other wonderful things debutantes hope for in a lovingly arranged marriage…am I in the ballpark?”
Her nose scrunched up at me. “No, you are not! He’s a pilot applying at some of the private firms in Switzerland to fly their Learjets. But, yes, he does shower me with gifts and…other things,” she said with another raised eyebrow.
I pride myself on self-control, but my heart raced slightly at her dirty innuendo so early in the conversation. “I see. And while he’s out dodging clouds, what are you doing besides receiving these wonderful showers?” I can play that game, too, sweetheart.
“I was a soccer player, though no longer professionally. I had a career-ending knee injury, so instead I manage his career.”
“How wonderful for both of you to have found someone who shares the same joys and interests.”
“Thank you. It keeps life interesting.” She looked at me intently over her drink.
“I’m sure. Tell me: though I appreciate the athleticism of the sport, do you find it at all constricting that you cannot use your hands?”
She looked down and delicately folded her napkin. “Oh, you can use your hands…but you get penalized for it and must pay the consequences.”
“What does that entail?”
“Your opponent gets a free shot.”
“And you can’t defend yourself?”
She looked up briefly and smiled, then back at her cloth napkin, now standing like a pyramid, the open side facing me. “Nope.”
“Sounds like there is a lot of trust involved.”
She looked up at me innocently. “In soccer?”
I paused dramatically as my cock hardened a little more, then agreed with a smile. “Yes, in soccer.”
She smirked, then asked what I did for a living.
I took a drink and carefully composed my answer. “I assess functional security.”
She sat up straighter. “Really? What does that mean?”
“The things that are supposed to be secure, I prove are not. The hidden vaults, I find. The things I’m not supposed to touch, I touch. The places that shouldn’t be entered, I enter. I prove that whatever someone believes is safely theirs, is, in fact, not.”
Her eyes widened as she leaned forward. “So you’re a thief?”
“When did I say anything about stealing? Very literally, I go in and touch the object, leaving my mark on it so the rightful owner knows I was there,” I winked at her, “If he knows where to look.” I could not help but notice her breasts rising and falling as she breathed.
Though the outright smile was gone from my face, I spoke frankly, my voice carrying an inviting awareness. “You seem to be getting a little warm,” I said, pointing to the flush on her chest.
She looked down for a moment, then back up at me. “It’s just the alcohol. I get that from my grandmother.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that is fairly common in some areas of Japan.”
Her eyes narrowed again as she smiled incredulously. “How did you know my grandmother was Japanese?”
“Obviously your eyes, but more specifically your eyebrows.” She reached up and delicately fingered her brow as I continued. “They’re big and hideously bushy, like a samurai’s.”
Her jaw dropped, then she stuck her tongue out at me. “Jerk!” Her hand reached across and lightly slapped my wrist, lingering a moment before withdrawing, causing more disruption below.
“Kidding…your face is angular, not round, so you aren’t Han Chinese or Korean, and your skin is creamy white, so you aren’t Manchurian, Inuit, or Southeast Asian. Taiwanese was a possibility, but you are too thin.”
She gave me a long look. “You figured all that out just by looking at me? How?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “I just told you: I pay attention. Details make up the whole.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice and looking over her closely. She slowly leaned in as well. “Your waist and shapely calves tell me you are still a runner, if not a competitor; your hair, initially black but now I see to be ultra-dark brown, is quite gorgeous and rightfully a source of pride,” I paused and licked my lips. “Your eyes turn greener by the minute from what I assume is growing arousal; from here I can tell by your cleavage that your breasts are angled slightly outward; your erect posture does a wonderful job of accenting your beautiful backside as you walk. You take pride in your athleticism and I’m sure you enjoy being so at every opportunity. While you may be a flower, you are far from delicate.”
Gently I reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear. “It isn’t difficult. Obviously you saw something that made you come sit behind me and immediately jump over to my table at the first opportunity, and don’t tell me it was just to get away from your free drink tickets sitting at the bar.”
Her eyes slowly wandered down my torso, then back up at my eyes. She shrugged eloquently and said, “You looked interesting.”
I shook my head. “Not good enough. Interesting how?”
Her brow furrowed cutely, then she continued. “You looked…relaxed. No–comfortable. Like you knew exactly what you were doing. So few men look like that anymore. I thought it was because you were Italian, or German, I guess, with your sexy blue eyes.”
I nodded, understanding what she was saying. “Are you disappointed to find out otherwise?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
She shifted her weight in the chair before leaning forward on her elbows with her hands on mine and her plunging cleavage pointed up at me. “Not yet…” she answered seductively.
Alright, maybe I didn’t already know the answer to my question. Hers was far more interesting than the ‘no’ I was expecting.
Taking my cue from hundreds of screenwriters over the years who borrowed from each other the most-used line in film, I told her in a voice without room for denial, “Let’s get out of here.”
I stood and offered my hand. She considered it, then looked up at me with a smile and placed her fingers in my grasp. I helped her to her feet, taking one last look around the lounge. Blue saw her hand in mine and pointedly turned around; Charcoal seemed to be a good sport, though, smiling and tilting his mug in a mock-salute. I placed her arm in mine as we exited the lounge.
The maitre d’ smiled as we passed, offering me congratulations.
“This one may ruin me,” I answered in his tongue.
“For your sake, I hope so!” he called after us.
Standing at the elevator, she asked, “What did you tell him?”
“That I had a lovely dinner and wished him a good evening.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, then back at me. “And he just wished you the same?”
I looked down at her and smiled ingenuously. “Yes, of course.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I see.”
The ancient elevator ground to a halt and the door gradually opened. We stepped in and I pressed the button for my floor, then settled against the railing. She leaned back against my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her waist.
The thought of making a pass at her in the enclosed space flitted through my mind, but I dismissed it as unworthy of this beautiful creature. Instead I leaned in and deeply inhaled the rich, fruity smell of her hair, exhaling slowly on the back of her neck. She shivered, and I flexed my semi-hard cock against the back of her leg.
I continued gently nuzzling her nape as we creaked higher in the building. Eventually the grinding brake sounded and the door reluctantly opened. My hand slid down and cupped her butt cheek, and I rubbed it for a moment before gently pushing her off of my side and took her arm once more in mine.
I could hear her breathing as we strolled down the narrow hallway to the last room, and my arm ‘accidentally’ brushed the side of her breast as I reached for the key in my pocket. The door opened, and she went inside without a word.
I followed, shutting the door behind me and locking it. She stopped in the foyer, looking around at the quaint but elegant hotel decor you will never find in our homeland. I decided against turning on the lights; the shades were drawn and the city light would be more than enough when our eyes adjusted.
I came up behind her and closed my hands around her waist.
“Remember what I told you?” I murmured in her ear. “What I should not touch, I touch; where I should not enter, I enter…” I moved around to her other ear. “And I will leave my mark for your husband to find, should he know where to look.”
She sighed, then turned in my arms, draping hers over my shoulders as she looked up at me. “And if you use your hands, I will punish you,” she said, looking up at my with her fiery green eyes.
I leaned down as if to kiss her, halting just short of contact. I could feel her panting on my lips. “I was counting on it,” I replied, then closed the distance as I brought a hand up and swatted her derriere.
She moaned into my mouth and passionately returned the kiss as I massaged her firm, perfect ass. I felt for the small zipper, locating it and quickly running it down. The silky material pooled around her feet, and I was treated with the smooth, soft skin of a woman who prefers thongs. I approved.
Brain walked out onto his patio with the newspaper, and his morning coffee for a little relaxation before he went inside and got to work. One of the luxuries of his job was that he could work from home, therefore giving him the ability to set his own schedule.
As he sat reading the paper, and sipping his coffee he heard voices coming from next door. Terri and her husband Brad had moved in a few weeks ago, and Brain had talked to them a few times.
He had no use for the husband Brad, he was loud, offensive, and just an overall jerk. Terri on the other hand was a really sweet woman, with a really nice figure, and personality plus.
What she was doing married to an asshole like Brad was beyond Brian’s understanding. He could hear Brad running his mouth as usual, bitching about something as he walked out of the house to his car. Then he heard Terri respond with,
“Go to Hell you fat Bastard!”
Brad slammed the car door, and screeched out of the drive way and sped off. Terri glanced over seeing Brian sitting on his patio saying,
“Sorry you had to hear that Brian.”
“No problem Terri. Hey…come on over for some coffee. You look like you could use a cup.”
Terri paused for a moment then said,
“Sure…why not. I’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”
She went back in the house as Brian got another cup, and poured her some coffee and took it outside. Just as he set the coffee down, Terri came over and stood at the table. She picked up the coffee, and took a sip saying,
She looked really hot in her tight knit top, and short skirt making Brain’s cock start to tingle just looking at her. He was single, and hadn’t been in a relationship for a while now, so he was in need of some sexual healing. Of course he wasn’t expecting Terri to be a part of that, but he couldn’t help responding to her great looks. He smiled saying,
“Have a seat gorgeous, you look like you could use a friend right about now.”
“Thanks for the compliment. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. All I ever get from my husband is insults and put downs. I’m so sick of it.”
“Well if you don’t mind my saying so, the man is a complete ass for treating you the way he does. I don’t know why you put up with it.”
Terri walked over, and put her arm around Brain, hugging him and saying,
“I don’t know why I do either. He didn’t used to be like that, but he’s changed so much. Now he’s a mean, hateful, cheating S.O.B. that doesn’t care what he says or does. The argument this morning was about his going on a business trip for a week, with that whore I know he’s screwing from the office. I’m sorry I shouldn’t be telling you this, it’s not your problem.”
“Terri, I don’t mind your telling me. You have to tell someone, why not tell someone whose going to look at it objectively, and give you an objective opinion, if you want it that is. Or I can just listen and you can get all this anger and anxiety off your chest. Either way, anything you tell me is between us and no one else. So go ahead and vent, I have lots of coffee, and even more time since I work at home, and I make my own hours.”
Terri thanked Brain again, and just started talking and sharing all her issues with him. It was perfect, because Brain was someone she could say anything to without repercussions. She talked for over an hour when she finally finished, thanking Brian for listening to her.
They paused for a moment just looking at one another, but not saying a word. It was as if they didn’t have to, like there was some sort of understanding or connection of some sort. It was hard to explain, but they both felt it. Brian made the first move placing his hand of Terri’s.
The moment he touched her hand he felt the energy. There was definitely an attraction, a sexual attraction, bolstered by the fact that Terri made no effort to pull away. Instead she just looked into Brian’s eyes as if she were lost. Finally Brian broke their silence saying,
“I want you to know that you’re always welcome here, anytime, for whatever reason, even if it’s just to get away from him, or you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
Terri felt a passion in her heart, and a sensation she hadn’t felt for sometime now. She felt an undeniable attraction to Brain, and for whatever reason she didn’t feel ashamed.
They were both about to take it a step further when Terri’s cell phone rang, it was her husband asking why she wasn’t answering their home phone. Her eyes narrowed and her anger was more than obvious. She snapped at him,
“I didn’t answer the phone because I was outside! Now what do you want, I thought you were going to the airport.”
As she listened it was as if her anger changed to disappointment as she said,
“Coming back, what do you mean? So your flight’s been delayed? What do you mean I have to drive you back to the airport, I thought you were using the….fine…whatever. Yes I’ll be here, where else would I be Brad?”
Terri hung up disgusted saying,
“Sorry Brain. It seems his flight was delayed, and now I have to not only go pick him up, but I have to drive him BACK to the airport later this evening.”
“No problem Terri. Remember what I said, I meant every word of it.”
“I know you did Brain, and thank you, it means more than you know.”
As she went to leave Terri turned and ask,
“See you tomorrow morning for coffee, about this same time?”
“Absolutely,” Brian replied.
Terri smiled as she walked back to her house, as Brian watched her sexy ass sway from side to side, his cock growing harder by the second. Once she had entered her house Brain went inside, and jacked off daring to fantasize about Terri, and what might happen.
The next morning Brian was up, and put the coffee on to brew while he showered and got dressed. It was going to be warm again, and Terri would be coming over as well. He slipped on a shirt, and was about to put on his underwear when he paused thinking maybe he should just forgo the underwear.
Instead he slipped on his shorts, and went out to the kitchen where he fixed himself a quick breakfast, and then poured himself a cup of coffee, and went out onto the patio to wait for Terri.
As he sat there going through the paper, and sipping his coffee to pass the time while he waited for Terri, he would look at his watch hoping she would show up soon. His patience was rewarded when he heard Terri’s voice say,
“Good morning….I hope I didn’t keep you waiting to long?”
Brain looked up as Terri walked through the gate, and onto the patio where she stood next to him. Damn she looked hot, wearing a short tennis skirt, and a top that molded to her beautiful breasts.
He could see that her nipples were hard, and pushing against the fabric of her top, indicating that maybe she too had been thinking about what might be, if they allowed themselves the freedom to explore their feelings.
Brain ran his eyes up and down Terri’s shapely legs, all the way up to the hem of her short skirt wishing he could see, no touch what was underneath. Then he moved his eyes up her torso, pausing for a brief moment as he focused on her nipples that were pushing against her top.
As he stared he swore they were getting even harder. As he sat there he could feel his cock starting to swell in his shorts, happy that he had decided not to wear the confining underwear as his gaze continued moving up to her smiling face.
Damn she was so fucking gorgeous, how could any man be anything, but nice to a woman that looked as good as Terri. Finally Terri ask with a sultriness in her voice that made Brian’s cock tingle,
“Is everything alright? I can almost feel your eyes as they move over by body, I hope I don’t disappoint.”
“Oh no, on the contrary. I just couldn’t stop admiring how beautiful you look, and wondering how anyone could treat you the way your husband does. I apologized for letting my eyes wander like that.”
“Apologize? If anything maybe it should be your hands wandering rather than just your eyes. As for my husband….who cares. Obviously he doesn’t, and I’d much rather be with someone who does.”
Not saying a word Brian reached over placing his hand on Terri’s bare calf. As he looked for a reaction Terri closed her eyes, and cooed softly as she moved closer to him. Brain moved his hand slowly up her leg, making his way onto her thigh as he watched her breathing become deeper, and her arousal began to grow.
It was obvious that Terri wanted to be touched as much as Brian wanted to touch her. As he moved his hand under her skirt he discovered she wasn’t wearing any panties, as he had moved over her bare cheeks. Terri mewed softly, and then whispered,
“Yes….oh yes…touch me….oh it feels so good Brain.”
She then leaned over placing her lips to his as he gently squeezed and caressed her sexy ass. Their kisses become more and more passionate when Brain felt Terri’s warm hand on his leg, slowly making it’s way toward his crotch.
Now it was his turn to moan as she moved her hand between his legs, and slipped her tongue into his mouth. With their tongues entwined in a passionate kiss, Brian felt Terri’s finger tugging at his zipper, slowly pulling it down, and then opening the button at the top of his shorts that were so wide open.
That was followed with the feel of her fingers moving down into his shorts, and fishing for his cock, freeing it as she pulled it from his shorts where she took his cock in her hand, and began stroking it.
Brain moved his hand from Terri’s ass, and unzipped her tennis skirt allowing it to fall away, down around her feet where she kicked it aside. He looked at her neatly trimmed bush that framed her full, thick labia that was wet with her juices.
Next Brain pulled Terri’s top over her head, giving it a toss over to where her skirt lay on the ground. Her breasts were even better than than he had imagined. Her nipples were rock hard, and her aureole’s were so pink, and puffy as he started caressing her breasts.
After a couple of minutes Brain stopped caressing Terri’s breasts long enough for her to pull his shirt off, along with his shorts.
Then Terri swung her leg over Brain’s lap, straddling him as she sat down in his lap, his cock pressed against her hot mound.
Terri put her arms around his neck, and the two of them kissed passionately as Brian ran his hand up and down her soft back, and Terri started rolling his hips forward, with Terri grinding her pussy against his cock.
Soon his cock was tightly wedged between her thick pussy lips, and his stomach as Terri continued to grind her pussy against his cock. Her passion and arousal was becoming more and more apparent as squeals of passion surged from within.
Brian too was pulling Terri closer to him, hugging her as she thrust her pelvis against his now throbbing cock. Brain had never been with a woman that was so passionate, so aroused, and so into animal lust.
Terri leaned back, as she continued grinding her hips against Brian’s cock, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Brian reached up, grabbing her breasts as he began squeezing them, and alternating between sucking then, and taking them between his teeth, and pulling them.
Terri responded with more guttural groans, and squeals of pure lust, all while Brain’s cock felt like it was about to explode. The harder Terri ground her pelvis against his cock, the closer Brain was to cumming.
In the meantime, Brain continued sucking Terri’s nipples as she gasped, and in a barely audible voice said she was about to explode. No sooner had she uttered those words, than Brain’s cock suddenly began to spasm, and shooting his load of hot cum onto Terri’s stomach.
As his cock continued to throb, and pulse, Terri was caught up in an amazing orgasm of her own. Brian could actually feel her pussy, throbbing and contracting against his cock that was still wedged between her hot, most lips.
As her orgasm started to slow, Brain grabbed her by the hips, and lifted her onto the patio table where she lay back, her legs spread wide, and her beautiful, pink pussy was oozing with her juices as they flowed from her hot sex.
Brain paused for a brief moment taking in the aroused, aroma of her scent before lowering his head, and running his tongue along the length of her gaping sex. He loved the taste of her pussy, and the erotic taste of his cum combined with her juices, all while listening to Terri squeal and moan.
Brain explored every inch of Terri’s pussy, licking, probing, tasting as he parted her folds, and eased his tongue deep into her pussy. It was there that he began tongue fucking her as if his tongue were an extension of his cock, taking her to yet another orgasm.
Not waiting for her to stop cumming, Brian moved up, taking her clit into his mouth, sucking and flicking her clit with his tongue while Terri squeezed her breasts, and rolled her nipples between her fingers.
Terri was again beside herself with lust as she placed her hands on Brain’s head, as he sucked her clit taking her to a third strong orgasm. It was as if she were insatiable as Brian pulled her up, and then with a wild look of lust in her eyes she whispered,
“Fuck me Brain…fuck me…I want your cock in my pussy so bad I can’t stand it.”
With Terri laying on the table, her legs spread wide, Brian reached down, and took his still hard cock in his hand, and started running the head up and down Terri’s pussy. She squealed and grabbed her breasts squeezing them as she continued running his the of his cock between her lips, moving it up and down her hot slit, as she begged him to fuck her.
“Oh Brian…stop teasing me, and stick that cock in my pussy!”
Finally Brian eased the head of his cock into her pussy, and then grabbed her hips, as he slammed his full length deep into Terri’s pussy. All she could do was gasp, as he drove his cock hard into her pussy, slamming his cock into her over and over as she writhed there on the table.
The harder he fucked her the more she loved it. She could hear, and feel his balls slapping against her ass cheeks as she pummeled her pussy as she twisted her nipples and tugged at them.
After a few minutes Brain pulled her up, and lifted her off the patio table, her pussy still impaled on his cock as he walked the short distance into the house. Once inside he pulled his cock from her pussy long enough to have her lay over the arm of a nearby sofa.
Once she was laying over the sofa Brain knelt down, Brain slid his cock between her ass cheeks, and started sliding his cock up and down her ass. He waited for her to stop him, but instead of asking him to stop, Terri reached back, and pulled her cheeks apart for him.
Brain started teasing her asshole with the head of his cock, pushing gently as it slowly slid into her ass. Pausing for a moment to allow her to get used to having his cock in her ass, Brain then began to slowly inch his was in.
Once his cock was tightly packed into Terri’s ass he started slowly pumping his cock. To his surprise Terri seemed to enjoy having her ass filled as she wiggled and gyrated her hips as he picked up the pace. As if to reassure him Terri whispered,
“Fuck my ass Brain…do it….fuck my ass….fuck it good!”
That was all Brain needed to hear as he started pumping her ass, and slapping it with the palm of his hand, something else he had wanted to try, but had never had the opportunity until now.
Terri responded by squealing, and telling him how good it felt.
Brain could feel Terri flexing her ass cheeks, as they gripped his cock as he continued ass fucking her. Terri in the meantime reached back, and stuffed as many fingers into her pussy as she could while he fucked her tight ass.
Over and over Brain drove his cock into her ass until he felt himself getting ready to explode. It was uncanny the way Terri could sense his impending orgasm telling him,
“Cum in my ass Brain…fill it with your hot load!”
After a few more strokes Brian’s cock started to spasm again as he filled Terri’s ass with his cum. Once he had finished cumming the two of them showered before Terri left to do some grocery shopping and then go to work.
It seems she worked part time at the local bookstore. She hadn’t mentioned it before, but she took the job so she would have something to do, and not have to listen to her husband bitching at her about spending “his” hard earned money.
The more Brian found out about the man the more he loathed him. All Brain knew was, somehow he was going to have to get Terri out of the situation she found herself in. It was a couple of days later, after that hot, sexy day of passionate sex when Terri called Brain asking him over for coffee.
He quickly accepted and put on a pair of shorts, and a tee shirt before going over. Brian knocked on the back door, and went inside when he heard Terri saying,
“Come on in Brain, the doors open.”
Brian stepped inside, his eyes nearly popping out of his head when he saw Terri. She was by the sink wearing a short see through robe, that barely covered her ass. When she turned holding a cup of coffee in her hand Brain could see her breasts through the very thin fabric, her nipples clearly visible along with a very revealing thong. She smiled asking,
“Is everything alright?”
“Oh hell ya,” Brian replied as he stepped forward and took the coffee from Terri. He took a seat at the kitchen table with Terri, laughing and talking as they sipped their coffee. By now Brain’s cock was raging, the head protruding from the leg opening of his shorts.
As Terri got up to get him some more coffee, he turned so he’d be more comfortable. As Terri poured his coffee, Brain reached up, and pulled the tie holding her robe closed allowing it to fall open baring her charms. She set the pot down on the table, as she leaned over, her breasts falling into Brain’s face as he kissed and sucked her nipples.
Terri cooed softly as Brain caressed and kissed her nipples, running his tongue over them as they stiffed to his touch. While he teased her nipple’s Terri reached down, and began squeezing his cock through his shorts.
In the meantime Brain had pushed her robe off her shoulders leaving her clad in just her thong. After several minutes of caressing and kissing, Brain moved his hand between Terri’s legs, sliding his finger beneath her thong where he began running his finger over her increasingly wet pussy.
As he moved his finger up and down her creamy slit, Terri parted her legs giving him complete access. Soon Brain’s hand was inside her thong, caressing her ass, and sliding his finger between her cheeks as he worked his thumb into her pussy, while teasing her sensitive asshole with his fingers.
Terri put her arms around Brain’s neck, kissing his ear as she moaned from Brain’s erotic caresses. He could feel her pussy grasping his thumb as he slowly eased the tip of his finger into her ass.
Brain could sense that Terri was about to cum when her body started to shudder, and quiver as her orgasm took over. Once she was finished cumming she pulled his shorts down exposing his cock.
Terri knelt down taking Brian’s cock in her hand, and then started running her tongue up and down his shaft as Brain titled his head back and moaned. He couldn’t believe that a woman like Terri had to put up with an asshole like her husband.
It was at that moment that he decided he was going to take her away from that Bastard if it was the last thing he did, but for now feeling her hot mouth envelop his cock was the most important thing.
Terri began deep throating Brain as she tugged at his balls, while bobbing her head up and down as she sucked his throbbing cock. She took him to the edge before he stopped her. Confused she asked,
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“Not at all, I just want to suck that sweet pussy of yours. You take care of me all the time, now I want to take care of you.”
Later that night after Kayla had fully recovered from her day with Bobby she was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. Looking over at it she saw it was her husband. She decided to answer it, even though it was the last thing she wanted. He told her that he planned to be back by Sunday. Then he talked about work and how much he missed her. Kayla would have been touched except for the girlish giggle she heard in the background several times. That was when Kayla told him she was going out with some girlfriends tomorrow night, so she wouldn’t be home. After she got off the phone with him she started thinking about what she would do tomorrow.
Kayla considered calling Bobby to come over, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He was a sweet kid, but nothing could come out of their relationship. Kayla looked at herself as his teacher. She had feelings for him, but not the fall in love feelings that came so quickly to 18 year olds. As much as Kayla liked the looks she got from the guys at the gym she didn’t want to get a reputation there, so that was out. Finally she decided that she would go dancing at one of the clubs in town where all the college kids go.
Kayla had another night filled with very vivid dreams of her with so many different people. There were the two college studs. The young cheerleader. Then there was Bobby and his aunt. When she woke up her hand was buried between her legs and she saw no need to stop because she was awake. Kayla just rolled over and kept rubbing her clit with her thumb and reached down with her left hand and slid first one, and then two fingers into her juicy pussy. Kayla kept fingering herself wondering why she was so damn horny. When her hips came off the bed and her entire body tensed up she didn’t care. She just knew that she was tingling all over again as her first orgasm of the day washed over her.
When she finally crawled out of bed Kayla took one look in the mirror and decided it was time for a day at the salon. She got an appointment for a cut and to have her nails done. After showering she headed for the closet and looked through it for something to wear this morning, but also tonight. She couldn’t find the perfect dress for tonight so she would go shopping after her salon visit. Now for this morning. She reached for the white sundress she wore when she met Bobby, but she wanted that to be Bobby’s. She finally settled on a more subdued shirt dress, but once again she decided to go braless, but she added a pair of bright red panties underneath the dress.
After getting her hair and nails done she headed to the mall to find her a dress for tonight. The first place she stopped she found the perfect black lace dress. It hugged her body and was cut to show plenty of cleavage. Then she went off to find something to wear under it. She left the lingerie shop with a large bag, but she was thinking braless was the way to go tonight. Once in the car she started driving home when she noticed an adult bookstore. She slowed as she drove past it and the parking lot looked pretty empty so she circled back around and pulled in.
Kayla was surprised to see a woman in her 40′s running the counter. Kayla explained that she was looking for some novelty gifts for a friend’s party, and the lady showed her the toy section. While she was looking she saw several creepy looking guys lurking around. That was when Kayla thought to herself “who did you expect to see in a place like this?” Then she went about picking up a couple vibrators and some different lubes and was bending over looking at a toy when she felt someone brush against her ass. She was almost ready to turn around and go off on one of those guys when she looked behind her and saw a young man who was working in the store.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was trying to get by you to clean the booths.”
“Yes ma’am. The video booths in the back. You can watch different movies in the privacy of a small booth.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by when I have more time to check them out.”
Kayla grabbed up her items and went to the counter to pay for them. After paying for them she hurried to her car and jumped in to drive home. On the drive home Kayla shook her head at the idea of going back to that place. The young man was interesting, but she felt like every guy there was about to rape her. No, she would keep to safer places to play.
Once home she looked at the clock and saw that it was only mid afternoon, and she was as horny as ever. Damn she needed a cock so bad right now. She took her bags and headed up the stairs unbuttoning her dress as she went. Once upstairs she dropped the dress on the floor and the panties joined them. As she climbed into her bed she started opening her toys. After putting batteries in them she took turns holding each one in her hands. She could see the pleasure they would bring, but they were still missing something.
She was just about to try one out when the phone rang. She answered it with a gruff “hello”, and her husband laughed asking if he had woken her from a nap. They talked for several minutes as Kayla fondled her knew plastic toys. Then Marty got down to the reason for the call, he had left some important papers here and he called to let Kayla know that Jason, from the office was coming by to pick them up. Kayla rolled her eyes as Marty droned on. The last thing she wanted today was Marty’s lecherous friend from the office coming by. Every chance Jason got he was hitting on some woman. Once off the phone with Marty Kayla went about getting dressed. She just slipped the same shirt dress on from earlier and decided to leave the panties off. Once Jason was gone she was going to try out her new toys.
Jason finally showed up, an hour later than he was suppose to be here. Kayla opened the door and Jason was his usual self, arrogant and obnoxious. Kayla took him to Marty’s office and Jason started looking through all the drawers. That was when Jason came up with a pair of lacy blue panties. Then he made some wise ass remark that Kayla only half heard as she was still concentrating on the panties. Finally he found the papers and walked up to Kayla and stood in front of her, almost touching.
“Don’t I get some sort of reward for finding your panties?”
Kayla looked at him with a look that could shoot daggers at him. “Sure Jason, let me call your wife and ask her what she thinks would be a good enough reward.”
“Damn Kayla, I was only joking. You know better than to take me seriously.”
After Jason left with his tail between his legs Kayla stood there with those damn blue panties in her hand. She was seething right now. If Jason wasn’t such a prick he would be enjoying the fuck of his life right now. Instead she was going to find her a college stud and fuck him all night long.
After an afternoon spent thinking of ways to make her husband pay Kayla started getting dressed. She slipped her tight black dress on and was relieved to see that the lacy part of it didn’t extend down to her nipples, although it did allow plenty of cleavage. She then went back and forth on whether to wear panties or not. Finally she chose a pair of tiny black panties that wouldn’t get in the way if someone want to explore her on the dance floor. Looking in the mirror Kayla couldn’t help but think back to her college days when her and her roommates use to experiment. Damn Jennifer knew exactly where to touch her.
With the memory of Jennifer firmly implanted in her mind Kayla went out the door to the club. As Kayla parked and got out of the car several young men stopped to look at her. Kayla smiled as she walked in. Once inside she looked around and headed for the bar. The club was only about half full but looking around she liked what she saw. There was a very nice mix of nice looking young men, and sexy young coeds. For the first time since college Kayla found herself thinking about another woman in a sexual way, other than in her dreams.
Kayla was looking around when an attractive blond came up to her and asked if she wanted to share a table. Kayla smiled and followed her to a table. She was a very cute girl and she was dressed in a sexy blue minidress that showed off her athletic legs. As they talked Kayla learned that her name was Samantha, but everyone called her Sam.
They talked for a little while longer and Sam looked at Kayla and asked if she wanted to dance? At first Kayla was reluctant, but with some persuasion she found herself heading to the dance floor with her hand firmly in Sam’s. At first they just danced and didn’t really touch, then Sam reached out and took Kayla’s hand and pulled her closer. Though they still weren’t touching this dance had taken on a decidedly different attitude than it had originally. Kayla could feel her nipples getting hard, and even her pussy getting moist. Both women had their arms around each other, yet their bodies weren’t touching. This was one of the most erotic dances Kayla had ever experienced. When the dance ended Kayla found herself staring into Sam’s eyes and watched in slow motion as Sam leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Although it wasn’t a full french kiss Sam did manage to slip her tongue between her lips and softly lick Kayla’s lips.
They headed back to their table and ordered another drink. As they talked a young man came up and said hello to Sam. After introductions she learned that he was Sam’s younger brother Ken. They talked for awhile and soon Kayla found herself on the floor with both Sam and Ken. During one intense song Kayla found herself sandwiched between brother and sister. He was in front of her and Sam was behind her and they were both grinding on her. They were in a dark corner of the dance floor and Kayla felt both of their hands on her. Sam’s were sliding up her thighs and under the front of her dress while Kens were on her backside traveling up her dress that way. Ken leaned in and gave her a deep kiss. His tongue sliding into her mouth as Sam nibbled on her neck. Soon Sam’s fingers slipped inside Kayla’s panties and she moaned into Ken’s mouth. When Ken broke his kiss with Kayla Sam slipped her finger inside Kayla. This brought another deep moan from Kayla’s lips, but the next move made her entire body shake. Ken slipped his finger into Kaya’s backside and then leaned over Kayla and gave his sister a deep open mouth kiss.
Kayla was turned on beyond belief as brother and sister made out while they fingered her holes. When they broke their kiss Kayla looked at both of them and said. “Let’s go back to my place.” Neither one needed to say anything but as a way of saying yes Sam slipped another finger inside Kayla before sliding them out and sucking them both clean. Kayla did let out a soft yelp when Ken slid his finger out of her ass, but she knew that that hole would be filled again, and soon. As they left the club Sam said “we could go to our place. It is just down the road and I have some fun toys.” Still in a daze Kayla agreed. They all got into her car and headed off to their apartment.
Kayla was pleasantly surprised to find that their apartment wasn’t the usual college dump but a very nice townhouse. Once inside the door Sam took Kayla by the hand and showed her around. Not surprisingly the tour ended in the bedroom. There was a huge king sized bed that took up most of the room. Soon Sam had turned Kayla around and her arms were wrapped around Kayla as she pulled her in for another kiss. This one was far more aggressive than the one she gave her on the dance floor. This was full open mouth and full tongue. Their bodies were pressed together as they kissed. Kayla felt a pair of hands on the back of her dress and her dress being pulled upward. Sam stepped away as Kayla raised her arms and her dress was pulled over her head. It didn’t take Sam long to join her as she shed her dress too.
As she looked at Sam Kayla felt her panties being pulled down and turned around to see Ken behind her as he pushed them down to the floor.Then he stepped around Kayla and did the same to his sister Sam. Kayla was mesmerized as she watched brother and sister together. Once both women were naked Sam reached out and hooked her thumbs inside Ken’s waistband and nodded for Kayla to do the same. Kayla reached out and did the same and together they pulled his underwear down to his ankles. Kayla was so into the idea of her being with a brother and sister that she didn’t even notice the size of Ken’s cock. It was at least eight inches long, but the impressive thing was it was as thick as her wrist. This had Kayla rethinking letting him have her ass.
Sam took Kayla’s hand and the both crawled onto the bed. They were followed by Ken as he got on the other side of Kayla. Now that she was naked and in the middle of this brother and sister act, Kayla felt like she was about to be devoured. Sam leaned over first and gave her a long soft sensuous kiss. Then Ken followed his sister’s lead. This became a pattern as Ken always followed Sam’s lead. When Sam began sucking and softly biting on Kayla’s nipple Ken did the same to the other nipple. Kayla was tingling as brother and sister used their mouths on her body. There were subtle differences between the two of them. Sam’s touch was softer, more feminine. While Ken’s touch was the aggressive touch of a young man. No matter the differences, right now Kayla was riding a river of pleasure. As they both moved down her body they managed to share several deep kisses, and knowing they were related, this turned Kayla on even more.
When they moved between her legs they both held one leg in their hands and eased her legs apart. Once she was spread eagle before them they began by kissing and nibble along the inside of her thighs, from the knee up to her dripping wet pussy. Kayla kept looking down as they both neared her sex at the same time. She was expecting Sam to take the lead, but was shocked when Sam started licking the top part of her pussy around the clit, and Ken lifted her backside off the bed and started licking from her asshole to the opening of her pussy. This brought a high pitched groan from Kayla.
“Oh fuck yeah. That feels so damn good.” Kayla moaned as brother and sister worked on her. Kayla knew that this would be a night of one orgasm chasing another. Then Ken started flicking his tongue at her sphincter, trying to get inside. Just then Sam started sucking on her clit ever so softly. When Ken buried his face between her butt cheeks kayla felt his tongue break through and she just grabbed a handful of sheets in each fist. Kayla didn’t think she could last much longer and when Sam slipped her finger inside Kayla’s pussy while she sucked on her clit she went off. Her moans and groans went from soft to loud. Her entire body started to shake as she came all over their faces. Kayla felt her hips pushing up to meet Sam’s mouth and Ken driving his tongue deeper into her ass.
Kayla thought it was over when Sam moved up to her to share a kiss and let Kayla lick her pussy juices off her face, but Ken kept tongue fucking her ass. “Oh fuck that feels so good. Nobody has ever done that to me.” Sam just kissed her again and traveled back down her body. Once down there she pulled Ken up and as he knee walked between Kayla’s open thighs Sam reached out and took her brother’s hard cock into her hands. Kayla watched as Sam pulled her brother’s cock closer until she was able to reach it with her mouth and started sucking it. Kayla just watched as she sucked her brother’s cock until it was completely hard and then she positioned it so that he could slide into Kayla’s pussy.
Sam gave her brother’s cock a couple strokes and then she lined it up with Kayla’s pussy. Ken slowly pushed his cock inside Kayla and Kayla let out a low moan as it felt like a tree trunk going in. Sam started working on Kayla’s clit as her brother inched deeper inside her. Finally with Ken halfway inside Kayla Sam edged up Kayla’s body leaving a trail of soft kisses as she went. Once she was up at Kayla’s head she gave her a deep demanding kiss. Her tongue invading Kayla’s mouth. Kayla returned the kiss as best she could. Sam then eased further up kayla’s body and straddled her. As Kayla looked down instead of seeing Ken fucking her she saw Sam’s shaved pussy.
Kayla moved on instinct and reached behind Sam and with her hands on Sam’s ass she pulled her pussy towards her. Kayla tilted her head up and took a tentative lap of it with her tongue. Then as she got closer the strokes from her tongue became more assertive. Finally Sam’s pussy was right on Kayla’s mouth and she was lapping away with her tongue. All of her experiences with Jennifer in college came back in a flash. Kayla’s strokes became more confident, as she reached places that Jennifer use to like to be touched, and Sam as well, judging by her moans.
Sam was sliding her pussy back and forth across Kayla’s face as Ken was fucking Kayla with his large cock. Kayla wrapped her legs around Ken and pulled Sam’s pussy against her mouth as she sought out Sam’s clit. Once she found it she wrapped her lips around it and started sucking. Her tongue dancing across it and driving Sam crazy. Sam now had a firm hold on the headboard as she was about to cum all over Kayla’s face. Meanwhile Ken was getting closer and closer to filling up Kayla’s pussy with his cum. With one final deep thrust Kyla felt Ken’s cock pumping his young cum inside her, and right then Sam’s legs tightened around her head and she started to sum on her face. The entire room was filled with moans and groans from all three.
As they all came down from their orgasms Sam slowly slid off Kayla’s face and Ken slowly withdrew his cock from her pussy. Sam laid down beside Kayla and started kissing and licking her juices from Kayla’s face, and incredibly Ken moved down and started licking and sucking her pussy which was still full of his cum. This triggered another orgasm as Ken latched his mouth onto Kayla’s pussy and started sucking on her gaping pussy and pulling his cum out of her. She could feel his tongue sliding deep within her pussy as he tried to get every drop out. Kayla couldn’t do anything but thrash about on the bed as she was eaten out by the man who just filled her up, and his sister cleaned her face of her own cum.
Sam finally quit her soft sensuous attack on Kayla and looked down at her brother, his face between Kayla’s spread open thighs. Then Sam moved down to join her brother and she pulled him off Kayla’s pussy and she gave him a deep kiss. It was like she wanted some of the cum and juice Ken had in his mouth. Kayla looked down her body and as perverted a scene as it was, she was still turned on beyond belief. She watched as Sam took the time to lick and suck all the juices off Ken’s face, and once that was done she took his place between Kayla’s thighs. Soon Kayla was enjoying Sam’s tongue as she went about cleaning up any cum her brother missed.
Kayla was feeling almost left out when Ken presented her with something that hadn’t been cleaned, his cock. Kayla quickly took it in her fingers and brought it to her mouth. She slowly sucked it between her lips letting her tongue wash over it so she could savor their combined juices. Sam was now really using her tongue as she was sliding her tongue as far as she could go inside Kayla’s pussy. Meanwhile Ken was beginning to harden inside Kayla’s mouth. Soon Ken was rock hard once again and Kayla was softly sucking on him. Sam looked up and came up beside Kayla and leaned over taking her brother’s cock into her mouth. She sucked on him for a short time before passing him back to Kayla. They kept this up for a little while longer before Sam said “I think he wants that pussy again.”
Kayla looked at Sam and then Ken and nodded okay. She spread her legs wider expecting him to move back down there again. Instead Sam said “lets do it doggy style this time.” Then she reached out and helped Kayla get into position, but before Ken could enter her Sam slithered underneath Kayla. Now the two women were in a 69 position with Kayla on top. Kayla smiled as she looked down at Sam’s shaved pussy and bent down to start licking her.
I’ve always regarded Sandra my wife as a very loyal person. Granted she was feisty and extremely hot and even though she was already in her forties like me, she had lost none of her spunk. Sandra was very tall for a woman and quite voluptuous. She had heavy breasts, which threatened to burst out of whatever she wore on top no matter the fabric. She had wide, breeder hips and a massive bottom which despite its formidable size was as firm as twin boulders. Apart from her curves she also had a very pretty face with bright eyes, a pert nose and a big mouth which was always curved into a smile.
Everybody who met her seemed to fall in love with her and she had a very outgoing and friendly personality. I felt very fortunate to have been the one to marry her; it was no secret that she had many admirers when she was single. It was still a mystery to our friends and family why she had chosen me out of the sea of jocks that had been jousting for her attention. Hell, it was a mystery to me too.
It’s not like I’m hideous or anything. I’m of average height and I’m not fat even though I’m not muscular either. I have been regarded as handsome although some mean pricks have called me pretty and hinted that I must lean a certain way. Eventually I asked Sandra why she had agreed to marry me despite my limited appeal.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled, smiling sexily. “Maybe I got a geek fetish or something.”
“Huh,” I said, clearly disappointed.
She giggled when she saw the expression on my face and reached out to caress the bulge of my cock in my trousers.
“Aww, don’t be like that, darling. You make me laugh and you know how to use your fingers and your tongue plus you have a beautiful cock. It might not be the biggest cock I’ve had but it sure is the sweetest looking. I love sucking it and the way you use it on my clit. You really are a very sensuous lover. And I love how you would never stop till I cum. That’s so sweet of you.”
“Huh,” I said again but my tone had changed. She giggled again and hugged me.
“Listen, babe,” she whispered, her breath hot on my ear. “You are the only one for me. I know I was a bad girl before we met but you tamed me. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
I guessed I should believe her but trust me there’s a reason why beautiful women sometimes find it difficult to get married. It’s because men are terrified of competition.
Now, it’s important that I let you know what she does for a living. Sandra is a novelist and apparently quite a successful one. She had happened on that vocation almost by accident and I don’t want to be smug but she would have never taken her writing seriously if it weren’t for me. She used to be a teacher and she really hated her job. As for me I am a real estate agent and I am actually quite good at it.
Anyway one day I stumbled upon her laptop she had left open on the table in the study while she took a shower. I glanced at it with mild disinterest and was surprised to see a Word document open with text on it. I sat down to read it and discovered it was the first few chapters of what appeared to be a full length novel.
It was a crime thriller starring a raunchy female detective called Helen Paul who would do anything to solve her case even if it meant dropping her pants to fuck anyone for information. My mouth hung open and my dick turned into a steel rod as my wife lovingly described in shocking detail how Helen kidnapped a low life drug dealer who might have seen a serial rapist but wasn’t telling.
The depraved detective then proceeded to tie up the dealer and proceed to ‘torture’ him. This she did by slowly giving him a blow job and stopping each time he was close to cumming. She continued to frustrate the poor guy until he was begging her to let him cum. In the end he told her the identity of the rapist and she eventually got him off and swallowed everything. It was the most disgusting, edgy and riveting piece of writing I have ever seen. I was so engrossed I didn’t see when she came back into the study.
“What are you doing?” she asked shrilly, slamming the laptop shut. “That’s private!”
“Why didn’t you tell me you write?” I asked, turning to face her.
“It wasn’t important,” she said crossly and folded her arms over her ample bossom.
“But I loved it! It was really exciting and slightly disturbing,”
“Really?” she smiled bashfully and actually blushed. “I think it’s too sick. I’m sure people will hate it.”
“Yeah but a lot of people will like it too. You can’t please everyone.”
“Well…” she said, looking down at her bare feet.
“Darling, this will be great. I have a good friend who is an agent for upcoming authors; I’ll give him your manuscript and hear what he has to say.”
The rest they say is history. Helen Paul became an iconic but highly divisive character which critics hailed as a “fresh take on the classic private eye type” while feminists championed her as the anti-heroine with a heart of gold who had every right to be as debauched as her male counterparts. Meanwhile conservatives screamed that this slutty detective was unrealistic and anti women. However controversy sells. My wife Sandra became a celebrity.
Needless to say the cash started rolling in and my wife became rich. The press started following her around because of her looks and she soon became tabloid fodder. I was thoroughly bemused through all this but I wasn’t resentful of her success. I kinda felt proud that I had discovered her. She was so grateful she always made sure to let the world know that I was the one who insisted she publish her work. When her detractors held me responsible for unleashing Helen Paul to the world that’s when I knew I was a celebrity too.
My wife was now regularly going for book tours all over the country and was quite busy. Our sex life took a hit but whenever we were together we made the best of it. However our sessions got fewer and far between and I started to get frustrated. I started to let off steam by turning to porn and I discovered I had a fetish for cuckold videos. I didn’t really understand why I would get so turned on by it- I guess the thought of my extremely hot wife getting ravished by a better equipped man struck a chord in me although I would never regard myself as the submissive type. In fact I would probably go ballistic if it happened in real life. I guess our greatest fears are also our greatest turn ons. Why do you think acute homophobes end up gay?
I hid the porn from my wife because I didn’t want her to feel guilty. She was concerned her tight schedule was affecting our marriage but I assured her we were fine. I got a kick from her gushing to the press how she had such a supportive husband.
One day she returned from a particularly hectic book tour in the next city and I did my best to make her feel comfortable. Eventually we were naked and snuggled up in bed. We didn’t really intend to make love- I would just hold her while she talked excitedly about her tour before she drifted off to sleep. Then much later I would crawl out to the study to jerk off to some porn. However Sandra had something interesting to tell me tonight.
“Darling, I have something to tell you,” she said in a small voice.
“Really? What?” My ears pricked up with interest.
“I met someone.”
“What?” My heart sank. “Who?”
“A guy who came to the tour to get a copy of my book signed. His name is Neal. He is a big fan of mine, he said he has all my books. He’s a real hunk, so sexy and handsome. I couldn’t stop looking at him!”
I felt my body tense and my cock began to stir.
“Really?” I asked hoarsely. “Then what happened?”
“He told me he was staying in the same hotel I was and that we should get together for a drink after the tour. I agreed immediately. I mean he was irresistible, darling. I wouldn’t know how to say no to him.”
“So did you… er… see him later?”
“Of course I did. I badly wanted to meet him again. We sat on bar stools and drank beer and chatted about my books. He praised my style and said my novels were unputdownable. I kept giggling and thanking him. I had changed into that short, tight, brown sleeveless dress that you like so much, you know, the one with a really deep V in front? He kept staring at my cleavage and my exposed thighs and eventually he told me I had nice tits and legs. I told him thank you and blushed.”
By now I had a raging hard on and my heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
“Then what did you guys do next?” I croaked.
“Well, he’s such a gentleman and offered to walk me to my room. I agreed but when we got to my door I wanted to talk some more with him so I invited him in. He agreed.”
“Huh. Then what?” I was going to go into cardiac arrest. Her fingers were caressing my body as she talked and soon they discovered my cock sticking straight up and as stiff as a pole.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “Is this making you hard?”
“Never mind that, tell me what happened.”
“Okay, so he came in and we had some more drinks. I got really comfortable with him so he joined me on the bed and we sat up chatting and sipping wine. He had his arm around me and stroked my upper arm. He was so cute I let him. Later he started touching my waist and thighs. It felt so nice that I let him kiss me on the mouth. He tasted really nice, darling. We started French kissing and this time he was fondling my breasts. You should see how hard my nipples were! I thought they would poke holes in my dress. Then he cupped my panty clad pussy and rubbed me a little. I jerked then and he stopped and apologised saying he should go. I begged him to stay saying I wanted to see ‘more’ of him.”
“Huh.” Was she fucking kidding me? My loyal wife had turned to a complete slut. I struggled to remain non-chalant. “And…?”
“That was when he took of his jeans and boxers. Darling, you should have seen his cock! It was huge! I know I told you such things don’t do much for me but this one was different. It was well cut and so long and thick. It was much bigger than yours, darling. When I saw it I couldn’t help myself. I begged to suck his cock, to really worship it. He told me to strip and expose myself to him, that he wanted to know if I was worthy of his cock. I jumped up and obeyed.”
By now I was breathing rapidly and listening intently as she told her sordid tale while she stroked my cock. I was close to cumming.
“When I got naked he made me prance around to see how my tits jiggled then he ordered me to bend over for him. He then spread my ass cheeks and inspected my pussy and asshole. He told me I would be a good fuck for him and that I should get on all fours for him. I was more than happy to oblige.”
“He then started to spank me, saying what a naughty girl I was. He asked me what my husband would think and I’m sorry, darling but I told him I didn’t care. I just wanted him to fuck me with that huge cock. He then grabbed my hair and dragged me to the bed. He made me bend over the edge and then he spread my cheeks and started to spit globs of saliva in my ass. He wanted to take me anally on our first date!”
“He’s nuts, huh? He could have at least tried to finger me first. Anyway it didn’t matter because I was already dripping wet. But it was quite difficult getting his cock up my poop chute. You should have heard my screams as he worked it in inch by inch, I must have woken the entire hotel! Anyway once he got it all in, he started humping me with reckless abandonment. I thought I was going to pass out from the sheer pain and pleasure. While he fucked my ass he grabbed and squeezed my tits, remarking on how big they were and how long and thick my nipples were. I could only grunt and groan as he ravaged me with that monster cock of his. Eventually I came so hard I thought my spinal cord would snap. I just screamed and kept screaming. The next second he came and filled my ass with his sperm. It felt wonderful. I think I must have passed out because I woke up later to find out he was gone. He had used me to please his cock like a common whore and left me lying naked on the floor with his cum leaking out my ass. I felt so ashamed but more satisfied than I’ve been in a long time.”
She fell silent and we were quiet for a long time.
“I hope you are not angry, darling,” she said softly. “It was just a one night stand. It didn’t mean anything even if it was the best fuck of my life.”
“No, I am not,” I said at last. “You saw a guy who was irresistible and you had to have him. What did you say his name was?”
“Neal. Neal Phule. P-H-U-L-E.”
“What kind of name is that?” I asked annoyed.
” Don’t mock his name, dear, he’s more of a man than you.”
I felt a surge of anger but still maintained my cool.
“Sorry, dear,” I said sarcastically.
There was another long silence while she jerked me off. She then proceeded to straddle me and my cock slid into her pussy which was soaked. She began to ride me in the darkness and I moaned in pleasure. It wasn’t long before I came noisily. She climbed off and I got between her legs to lick her clit. She was so aroused it was only a few minutes before she stiffened and her legs clamped around my head. She writhed and jerked as she came in my face. I lapped up her juices.
“Wow, that was fantastic,” my wife moaned.
“But not as good as the fuck with Neal, right?” I asked bitterly.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Right.”
She turned over to sleep while I lay there staring at the ceiling. My mind was in turmoil. So what now? What do you do when you find out your beloved wife is a slut? Why did she blatantly confess her indiscretion to me? Why didn’t she keep it a secret? I would never have found out in a hundred years.
Something kept nagging the back of my mind. Why did she insist on spelling out the bastard’s name for me? Neal Phule. What kinda daft name was that?
Wait a minute.
Suddenly I started laughing out loud, I couldn’t help it.
“Now you get it, dear,” whispered my wife.
“I keep forgetting you are such a good story teller. You found the porn I was watching, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Cuckold, darling? Real smooth.”
“I know. I’m sorry. So you wanted to give me a taste of how the real thing could feel like?”
“Yep. Did you like it?”
“Not really. The feeling of jealousy was too strong.”
“I’m glad you realised that. So maybe you can quit watching that stuff.”
“I will, dear. Thanks for that.”
I rolled over to spoon her and put my arms around her. She snuggled closer and I moaned as her massive ass hit my stomach. We snuggled together and soon I heard her snoring. As my mind started to drift to sleep I smiled.
Rearrange the letters and you will get the name of my wife’s infamous character: Helen Paul.
To isolation on a rainy day, add alcohol and other mind altering substances add sex!
It had been raining for two days. What had started as a family weekend had turned into a landlocked version of Swiss Family Robinson. Like them, we were fully stocked with the necessities of life. In our case that meant steaks, brats, beer, an assortment of alcohol including 5 gallons of an excellent hard cider we had purchased at the local farmer’s market.
Our “island” was our A frame set on three wooded acres adjacent to a small lake. The only access to our lake cabin was a cowpath that was laughingly referred to as a road. Tom and I had always planned to improve the road. However, the sense of seclusion it provided encouraged our procrastination.
That seclusion was total now. The road was a muddy impassable track. The yard in front of the cabin was a quagmire. Buried to the axles in the middle of that sea of mud was my brother’s minivan. Against my advice, he and his family had attempted to escape our unplanned confinement. His stuck van was the result.
Before Nature intervened, we had planned a family weekend getaway. That we would be me, Jimmy Black, my older brother Tom, his wife of 20 years, Jan and their daughter, Sue. My girlfriend was to have driven up yesterday. However, the roads were flooded.
Now I was getting blind drunk with my brother and sister in law. We were putting a respectable dent in the cider and smoking some doobie. That combination can induce even the most conservative people to test their limits.
Tom was barely coherent; Jan was not in too much better shape but she was holding her own. She was big buxom dishwater blond. At about 5′ 8″, 190, or so, she was not my idea of a sexy woman. She carried most of her weight in her ass, thighs and tits. Picture a plus size earth mother type and you have Jan.
Sue was a carbon copy of her mom, minus 30 pounds. Into today’s parlance, she was curvy. Jan and Tom had taken a liberal; some might say permissive, approach, to raising her. She was allowed to drink and toke, in moderation.
Disturbingly, she sat adjacent to me clad only in one of Tom’s XXL tee shirts and maybe panties. She sat crossed legged in the chair. In my inebriated state, I would steal peaks at her full pink thighs. Then I would mentally slap myself for being an old perv.
In a display of alcohol fuelled playfulness, Tom was trying to get Jan to pull her tee shirt up and show her tits. From the way she giggled, it was only a matter of time until she put those massive mammaries on display. I was egging her on by whistling the bump and grind tune that they play for strippers.
Their 18-year-old daughter had become disgusted with our shenanigans and called it a night. I watched her walk the careful walk of one who has had too much to drink. Her unfettered breasts swayed gently as she covered the short distance to the stairs. Her full ass rolled rhythmically as she gripped the handrail firmly and made her way up to her room.
Tom leaned over, grabbed the bottom of Jan’s tee shirt, and pulled it up. Jan’s big breasts hung heavy on her chest. Her areolas were the size of a small saucer, her nipples like a thumb.
“Look at those hooters, little brother!”
Sue was struggling to pull her shirt down but her coordination was impaired and she was enjoying the attention. I knew her protest were just false modesty.
“Dammit Tom stop!”
My brother hefted a big tit in each hand. He leaned over and licked her nipple. Almost impossibly, it swelled larger.
“See how sensitive these suckers are, bro?”
“Jimmy, make him stop!”
“Hell, I’m enjoying the show!”
“Both of you Black brothers are perverts! My husband is showing off my tits, licking them and his brother is watching and licking his lips! “
I watched with increasing arousal as Tom sucked noisily on her tit. Through partially closed eyes, she made feeble, half-hearted attempts at stopping him. Suddenly she put both hands on his head and forcibly pushed him away.
“Tom, I got to pee!”
“Can we watch?” Tom leered at his wife.
“NO! You sick motherfucker!”
Jan struggled to her feet and grabbed her chair to balance herself. With the false dignity of a drunk, she pulled her shirt down to cover her breasts. As she turned to make the short trip to the bathroom, Tom yanked her sweat shorts down around her hips.
“Look at the ass, lil bro! Don’t it make you just want to kiss it?”
Jan waggled her bare ass at us and continued onto the bathroom without pulling them up. I watched her big ass move seductively from side to side. The sex play had gotten me hard. I turned to see my brother watching me looking at his wife’s bare ass.
“It fucks as good as it looks,” Tom slurred, “she likes for me to smack it hard when we fuck!”
“TMI, Too Much Info, I don’t want to hear another story about you fucking your wife. That is unless you are going to let me get some of that fat ass!”
Tom smiled drunkenly as he wagged his finger at me.
“I don’t share any of my pussy”
“Any of your pussy” I repeated,” What, you got a girlfriend now?”
Tom stood. He balanced himself on the chair.
“Fuck it!” Tom slurred. “I’m going to bed.”
Like a billiard ball, he caromed from the chair to couch to the banister. He climbed the stairs, dropping to a knee a few times to recover his balance. I watched as he opened the door to his bedroom and stumbled in.
I was mulling his remark when Jan exited the bathroom.
“Where is Tom?”
“He had his fill and stumbled to bed!”
“I better go check on him.”
Again, I had the chance to watch her ass is she climbed the stairs. I noticed that she too had that overly careful drunk walk.
The fact that my brother hinted at having sex outside of marriage was interesting. Our parents were bible thumping holy rollers. Sex was evil and only for procreation. The devil used the female body to lure god-fearing men to Hell … or so we were told.
The upstairs bedroom door opening and closing drew my attention. Jan had changed into a blue silk robe. It stopped just above her knees and buttoned up the front from knee to neck. She had the top two and bottom three buttons undone. The light at the top of the stairs backlit her; it revealed the outline of her mature body.
As she descended the stairs, I caught glimpses of her mingled grey bush. She missed a step, stumbled, and checked her fall by grabbing the bannister. She over balanced and almost fell over the rail. She awkwardly fell back into a sitting position on the steps. The net effect was her legs spread in front of her giving me a full view of her fur-clad pussy. Her thatch was thick but trimmed with pinkish lips poking through.
“Are you going to help me or ogle my pussy?”
“Ogle your pussy!” I laughed.
Jan managed to right herself, though she was weaving dangerously on the step. Then, unexpectedly she unbuttoned the coat and dramatically held it open.
“Get a good look, pervert!”
At 43, Jan was not a bad looking woman. She had a slight pooch. Her hips were full and firm. Her tits hung pendulously like large ripe melons on a vine. She was more than Rubenesque but still a very desirable woman. Surprisingly to me, her nipples were hard and erect.
She had a thin sheen of sweat from the heat and high humidity. She finished her trip to the table with her coat open.
“You better close that motherfucker before I grab one of those big jugs!”
“Fuck you, Jimmy! It’s humid, I’m hot, and I want to go home!”
With that, she leaned across the table to refill her glass. I took the opportunity to reach over and pinch her nipple.
“You bastard!” she cried. “I’m not a sex toy for you and your fucking brother!”
To this day, I do not know whether it was how high I was or how quick she was, but suddenly she was between my chair, the table, and me trying to pull up my tee shirt.
I struggled, trying to hold my shirt with one hand and push her away with the other. What I succeeded in doing was getting a handful of one big tit!
“There you go again, fucker, feeling me up! I’m going to show you how that feels!”
She suddenly switched her attack from my shirt to my sweat shorts. Before I could react, she had pulled the front of my shorts down. My cock popped out, semi hard. I moved my hands from my shirt to my shorts. Despite me, this drunken tussle was arousing.
Our tussle caused the chair to rock back. Frantically I tried to lean forward to stop it from tipping over. I grabbed Jan around the waist, trying to right the chair. What I succeeded in doing was pulling her down on top of me.
My head hit the floor hard enough for me to see stars. For a few moments, I was disoriented. My head cleared, now buried between Jan’s big sweaty breasts. She lay on top of me winded, breathing heavily. I could feel her bush rubbing against my lower belly. My dick was lying against her thigh. I also realized that I was incredibly aroused.
“Goddammit let me up!” Jan groaned.
“Let you up! Let you up!” I screamed, “You need to get your big ass off of me!”
She put her hands flat on the floor and tried to rise up. What actually happened is she slid down. Now we were face to face. The sour odor of sweat and stale cider filled my nostrils. In addition, my cock was now slapping her pussy. I could not tell whether the dampness I felt was perspiration or signs of her arousal.
Jan’s eyes were the size of saucers. She groaned. The wetness around my dick increased.
I managed to get my knee between her knees. I got a firm grip on her arms and rolled over, flipping her on her back. I was on top but with my legs partially immobilized by my shorts, which had somehow slid around my knees. In a recess of my pickled brain was a concern about how we must look.
“Get off me, cocksucker!” she screamed.
We were both huffing and puffing like old steam engines. I pinned her hands above her head. We were bare belly to bare belly with sweat pouring off us in rivulets like the rain on the cabin windows. She was writhing under me trying to break loose. I could feel her silky thicket rubbing against my rigid tool. A wetness that was more than sweat covered my crotch.
“Ok, ok but you have to stop, ok?”
She nodded her head.
I released her arms. I was exhausted. My heart pounded loudly in my chest. I brought my arms under me and levered my upper body up. Jan’s hands shot between us and tried to grab my cock.
“I’ll stop after I show you how it feels to have you and your fucking brother pawing me!”
I tried to grab her hands. I fell down and forward. Moreover, my dick slid right into her pussy!
We both grunted. Jan’s eyes were big as saucers. I am sure mine matched hers. We both lay still. Then Jan tried to twist from under me. The effect was to drive my cock deeper in her.
Our breaths were coming in quick gasps as a mixture of exhaustion, adrenalin and the beginnings of lust shot through our bodies.
“Wait” I said, “lie still, and let me get up!”
I knew I had to free my knees by pulling my shorts up. I balanced on one hand and tried to grab my shorts. My cock pulled almost completely out of her pussy. I need to get one knee under me to get off Jan.
My arm began to tremble, gave out, from the effort and I slid back down into her pussy.
Her love hole was smooth, wet, and tight. I could feel it pulsing around my cock. I remembered Tom telling me she did Kegel exercises to keep her vagina tight. Now it felt like her pussy was giving me a hand job.
Jan moaned and thrust her hips up. I slid out and thrust back in hard.
“Bastard!” Jan slurred.
She thrust her hips up hard, driving me deep.
“Bitch!” I moaned.
We began a steady rhymn. I raised up on my arms for leverage and long fucked her, pulling my dick out until just the head was trapped between her labia then sliding slowly back in. Jan raised her legs in the air and wrapped them around my back.
We were animals in rut, totally disregarding my brother and her daughter upstairs. We fucked, not made love, but fucked. We were the beast with two backs. What we were doing had nothing to do with procreation, nothing to do with love. It was about need. The close hot air of the cabin resounded with the wet slap of sweaty flesh against sweaty flesh complimented by our lustful moaning.
“Go Deeper, motherfucker, deeper and harder! Knock the bottom out of my pussy!”
I managed to get the nipple of one her big tits in my mouth. I sucked on it hard, nibbling it lightly with my teeth.
“You good pussy, slut, move this big ass!
“I ain’t no fucking slut!”
Our sweat was the lubricant that let our bodies slide across each other’s. The loud squishy sound of her wet pussy provided the other lubricant. Jan pressed her hands lightly against my chest.
“Let me see,” she moaned, “let me see your dick sliding in and out of my pussy!”
I rose and balanced on my arms. We both looked between us. Covering my cock was the white cream of her pussy. Our cream covered her grey streaked blond thatch.
“Look how your pussy lips spread around my dick!”
I slowed. When I slid in her labia closed tightly around me. When I pulled back, it was as if they were pouty lips sliding out with my cock.
I felt Jan’s pussy contract as her orgasm overtook her. She rose on her shoulders, thrusting her hips hard against my pile driving man meat.
“Aaawwwww fuck! You sum bitch you made me come!” she moaned, her words slurred by the reefer we had smoked and alcohol we had drunk. My sweat fell on her. Our grunts, groans and the wet slap of flesh filled the air.
I moved like the piston of an engine, thrusting hard up and down. Jan was the engine the piston was pumping in. Her mouth was open in an almost constant animal growl. Her eyes were half closed. Her face was a twisted mask of lust. I wondered if she fucked my brother with such wanton abandon.
Jan’s pussy began spasming again. This time the loosening and tightening of her pussy put me over the edge. I released deep her, thrusting in hard to meet her pistoning hips
I rolled on my back exhausted. My heart was beating like a trip hammer; my chest was on fire. Jan was not in any better shape. Her arms were thrown out to either side, her legs splayed open.
“Fuck,” she said, Fuck, what have we done?”
“We fucked, Jan!” I wheezed.
She rolled to her belly. The wood floor had a sweaty outline of her body. Jan rose to her knees. She fell forward on all fours. We were head to toe. I looked and saw my come dripping from her pussy and on to the wood floor. She looked at me and then followed my eyes.
“Lawd, I’m full of your fucking jism. “
“Mmm looks good to me!” I laughed
She shivered as I ran a finger in her dripping pussy. She watched with a mixture of horror and lust as I licked the finger clean. Again, that finger penetrated her pussy. I offered it to her. Her nose wrinkled as though she had smelled something. She leaned forward and tentatively licked it. Then her mouth engulfed my finger as she licked and sucked it clean.
“By the way, if your brother hadn’t told you, I am pretty good at that!”
“Sucking fingers?” I asked playfully.
That earned me a swat on the chest.
“No, silly, sucking cock!”
She looked around frantically. I raised my eyebrow questioningly.
“I need a fucking towel,” she said. “Oh my god it’s just running out of me like a river!”
I stripped off my shirt and without thinking began wiping her pussy with it. At first, Jan accepted my clean up with no comment. From her position on all fours, Jan’s hips began to sway in a circular motion. I heard guttural moans. I realized that I was rubbing her clit.
I scooted closer. I managed to get my head under her belly pooch. I kissed her clit and sucked it into my mouth. The musty smell and salty taste of our combined juices had my cock rising again.
“Jesus Christ, Jimmy, haven’t we done enough! I don’t fuck around on Tom, I just don’t and ……aw fuck that feels good!”
I sucked one of her meaty labia into my mouth. Jan bucked hard. My come was running out of her pussy and on to my face. I switched my attention to her clit. I sucked it like a small dick. Jan was crooning a low whine, her big ass waggling in the air.
“Aw fuck, Jimmy, fuck that feels so good!”
“Mmm you like getting your pussy licked?” I mumbled.
“Fuck yeah! Tommy, don’t…!”
I slipped a finger in her ass. I thought she was going to hit the ceiling! At first, she pulled away but I followed her with my hand. Then she pushed back. I began slowly finger fucking her ass while sucking her clit like a baby calf at feeding time.
“Oh my god, Jimmy, I ain’t never….I mean…shit that feels so good!”
Finally, Jan leaned down and took my dick in her mouth. She was amazingly good but then I remembered my older brother was old school; he loved blowjobs but did not like eating pussy. I eased my finger out and replaced it with my tongue. Jan exploded all over my face. I thought her scream would wake the dead, let alone my brother and her daughter. I came just as she pulled her head back.
She yelped as my come stream flooded her face. Before she could pull back, another jet hit her on her chest.
We rolled on our backs. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Gradually we both came down. I looked at Jan’s come covered face. She used both hands to wipe her face. With a devilish grin, she began licking her hands.
“Your brother doesn’t let me do this! She laughed between licks, “But enough play time!”
She rose steadily to her feet. She nearly fell over when she reached down for her robe. A serious look came over her face.
“Look, Jimmy, this has to be our secret!”
“I brought a finger to my lips.
“Mums the word!”
As she moved away from me, I rose to my knees and smacked her hard on her ass.
She jumped, grabbed her ass with both hands, and turned toward me her mouth open wide with an outraged grin on her face.
I wagged a cautioning finger at her.
“That’s how this started! Are you ready for round two?”
She laughed, threw both hands in air in a mock surrender, and retreated up the stairs to her bedroom. I struggled to my feet and moved cautiously up the stairs. I was asleep before I hit my bed.
You once told me that we were like two sides of the same coin; you wandering the earth searching for a permanent home and soul-mate whilst I longed to escape the confines of my perfect domesticity.
You told me your greatest fear was to grow old and die alone with neither a loved one to hold your hand nor a child to validate your existence. Mine was to die without having lived outside the conventions of polite society, without even having nudged the parameters of this ordered life for a glimpse of my true self.
And so, my friend, we wrote to each other every day, both of us eyeing the greener grass whilst trying to convince ourselves of how fortunate we were to be in our respective positions, so envied by the other.
But I never appreciated the full extent of your sadness and when you embarked on your next globe-trotting adventure in the Far East, I smothered my resentment and continued the school runs and supermarket trips, sinking wearily into the sofa every evening, then waking restless from elusive dreams.
The news of your suicide reached me yesterday, two days after I had picked up your latest email, which I admit is now much clearer in hindsight. Another member from our internet forum broke the news after she had read about the tragic death of an Englishman abroad in her local newspaper. We all expressed our dismay and loss on an appropriate thread whilst privately, my heart plummeted and smashed into a thousand pieces as I felt the noose of my incarceration squeeze tighter against my throat. How selfish of me to dwell on my solitary melancholy now that you had abandoned me for those greener heavenly pastures.
It is almost half past eight in the morning. Paul has already left for work, after another wearisome quarrel, and both the children are at school. I pull my dressing-gown tighter across my chest to banish the early morning chill and pour myself a strong cup of tea before reading, once more, your final words to me.
I feel as if I am being swept along helplessly by a strong current towards an enormous waterfall. But the curious thing is that I am not struggling to avert this disaster, indeed I feel a certain comfort in just letting go and seeing where the rapids takes me. This must be what a baptism feels like; submerging your fears and uncertainty in the cool, fresh water then emerging purified and cleansed of self-doubt.
I have no real responsibilities to keep me from exploring this path, which at this particular juncture in my life appears to be the only way forward. But before I leave you, I give you this: fight, my friend, to recapture your aimless soul – for claim it you must, before the rot of bitterness and regret consumes not only you, but all those around you.
Wherever you go, my dear sweet Maddie, I shall always remain with you.
I switch off the computer, lean back in my chair and close my eyes, pushing away all thoughts of the banal obligations that preoccupy my dreary life: shopping lists, daily menus, PTA meetings, extra-curricular activities, perfunctory intercourse, housework. Instead, I try and focus on the precise chain of events that led me to this prison.
Of course, when I met Paul at university, how could I have known that the intoxicating and meaningful love we made in those early days and that our ensuing dreams of a fruitful union would result in the daily drudgery of my life now? I used to glitter at parties, flitting skilfully from man to woman, charming all and sundry with my sparkling wit and intellect, rising refreshed at dusk and falling sated and happy into my bed at dawn.
Unencumbered, I would catch the midnight showing of a summer blockbuster in Leicester Square with a group of friends then wander through Chinatown in search of a sweaty nightclub tucked away in an obscure backstreet of Soho. I could spend hours alone on a Sunday at the Tate or the National, drenching myself in all the beauty and culture that a vibrant city has to offer the young and idle.
Paul and I used to travel lightly before the days of highchairs and nappies, with nothing more than some cash in our pockets and an overnight bag. We would talk into the early hours of the morning about exploring the world together and we enjoyed each other’s company on equal footing with the reassuring knowledge that either of us could walk out of that door anytime we desired with no baggage to anchor us.
Then the years caught up with us and, in our perceived maturity, Paul and I began to think about the next steps of marriage and children as our parents and grandparents had done before us. How naïve of me to think that I would remain the same care-free happy person I was back then, and that the balance, so finely tuned in our relationship, would never shift. Diligently, we started to build our nest and midday post-coital conversations about skiing in Chamonix were replaced by afternoon property viewings in the right catchment areas.
Somehow, it was tacitly agreed that Paul should continue climbing the corporate ladder whilst I stay at home to raise the children. So as he proceeded to flourish at the office surrounded by his sycophantic and opportunistic peers, my brilliant mind was left to stagnate in the unforeseen wasteland of spousal and maternal hell, devoid of my former friends who were equally plagued by their own arbitrary lives.
Paul cannot understand my misery and tears. On paper, our domestic life is perfect. He thinks me selfish and ungrateful, yet he cannot see how I have become a slave to the needs of my family, that I must sacrifice my personal growth and happiness in order that they may fulfil theirs. I am in a constant state of anxiety and fatigue as I strive to be the perfect wife and mother whilst struggling to retain my identity; an impossible task when daily conversations revolve around cartoon characters, and the highlight of my day is finding discounted produce at the supermarket. The children know the exact pitch at which to scream to bring on a migraine and dinner-time is its own special brand of torture.
Then Paul returns late again from work in an effort to avoid my ugly moods, which merely fuels my antagonism, and thus we spend the evening in either fiery conflict or icy civility. Paul is blind to how lonely I have become and how this has festered into resentment towards his uninterrupted weekend lie-ins, his lengthy gym sessions, and the peaceful private hours he affords himself late at night after the children have gone to sleep and I have crawled exhausted into my separate bed, too tired to face another disappointment.
And now you, my precious Oliver – who I stumbled upon one tedious morning whilst browsing the online chat-rooms for conversation and companionship, who for nine months patiently listened to my anguish over my invisibility, who shared my despair and made me feel revered and whole again – you have gone. I am, once more, alone in my cage and for a brief moment I consider the path of your release.
I open my eyes with sudden clarity.
I refuse to die this way.
I choose to live.
I always wanted to delve into the seedy underbelly of Berlin.
I book a flight for that afternoon and pack a small suitcase, leaving a note for Paul with a vague explanation of how the latest argument has pushed me over the edge and I how I now need some time to myself. Even at the point of betrayal, the dutiful wife and mother in me promises to contact him the following day, adding that I have asked his sister to help with the children during my absence and that I will be taking up an offer to stay with an old school friend by the coast. I send a text message to his sister explaining the same and ask her to collect the children from school later that afternoon.
As I close the front door firmly behind me and climb into the waiting taxi, I notice my hands are trembling. I cannot determine whether from fear or exhilaration, but I know that if I falter now I shall not live to see the sun set. There is a momentary pang of guilt as the taxi sets off; not because I am deserting my family, but because I am unable to summon feelings of contrition for doing so. It is not until I am in the air high above the clouds that I begin to feel my clipped wings slowly unfurl.
I am running late for the girls’ school play and usher them playfully out of the bathroom towards the front door. Paul has promised to meet us there at half past five but his lack of punctuality no longer grieves me, having freed myself of this compulsion to control every aspect of our lives. With the girls safely strapped in their car-seats, I check my lipstick in the rear-view mirror and marvel at how the new blonde highlights form an angelic halo around my face, softening the scratchy lines at the corners of my eyes. I am certainly not a book to be judged by its cover, I think wryly to myself as I head towards the school. I hear the girls giggling in the back, so much happier now that their once over-wrought mother smiles instead of screams at them, hums show-tunes throughout the day instead of weeping behind the bedroom door at night.
Paul has noticed the change in me since my return and savours the buoyant hedonism of my new incarnation, although he has never fully questioned what precipitated it or exactly where I fled four months ago; perhaps a preternatural sense that the revelation would irrevocably damage our fragile relationship. Some things are better left unspoken.
I have saved a chair next to me for Paul and, as the hall lights fade, I crane my neck to spot my daughters amongst the children as they make their entrance. My husband arrives ten minutes later and under the cover of partial darkness he furtively slides a hand under my skirt as he takes his seat. I give him a side-long glance, slowly yielding my thighs further apart so that his fingers brush against the moistness of my naked mound. His eyes glaze and although he stares intently at the stage, I know he is distracted by the memory of our rough coupling from the previous night. He is impatient to return to our bed and I am hungry for his flesh.
You see, Oliver, it was not my domesticity from which I sought to escape after all, but simply my self-imposed morality.
By the second night in Berlin, I had discarded my lofty ethics and fully embraced my lost soul. Now when I eat an over-ripe pineapple, the sweet pungent taste of the willowy brunette from the fetish bar on Urbanstraße lingers memorably on my tongue. Never had I anticipated the thirst I would acquire for drinking the cunt juices of a beautiful woman as she gracefully straddled my face on the lush carpet in the closed back room. I dissolved in her soaking pussy, swirling and sucking each delicious tiny fold, probing her delicate slit with the length of my tongue until she shuddered violently into my face and infused her balmy perfume into my skin.
On the treadmill each morning, perspiration trickles between my bound breasts and I am once again writhing beneath countless damp, greedy hands as they explore the deepest uncharted crevices of my body. I remember entering the sex club, naked and accessible to anyone who wished to have me, my dripping cunny signalling the urgency for a deep hard fuck. Plundered for hours by an eager mob, I crawled back to my hotel and drifted into a deadened slumber, the kind that had eluded me for so long and for which my body now ached in order to heal my broken spirit.
When Paul frantically entered me last night, I recalled the queues of unfamiliar, engorged men filling me with their lustful seed as I lay chained and compliant on the soiled sheets in the dimly-lit underground club. Forced to relinquish control, I had calmly accepted the strangers into my throat, cunt and arsehole as they stretched and marked me, each welcoming assault bringing home the realisation that in order to anchor my trouble soul, all I had to do was let go and simply be.
I exhale with satisfaction at the memories of my emancipation, which must nourish me until my next trip two months from now.
I wonder had you lived, Oliver, would you have applauded my courage in seeking out such deliverance or would you have taken exception for leaving you behind? Was the bold step of committing your heart and soul to an ordinary woman too fearful an undertaking for your foolish ego that you chose death instead to be your steadfast companion?
You remain as you promised, my dear friend, locked away in a tiny corner of my heart as we continue to flow spontaneously with the rapids towards our uncertain denouement.
“She won’t go for it. She’s not stupid, you know.”
Maybe not, but I’m starting to think you are. Ryan’s attitude was wearing on me. We had been over the plan half a dozen times over as many beers. I had considered it sober, with a buzz, and drunk. It passed each stage of my standard screening process. I had thought it through from everyone’s perspective. It would work.
“She doesn’t have to be stupid-just interested. Trust me; it will work.” I didn’t have to tell Ryan that Diane’s interest was quite specifically directed at him. It had been for years and he’d known it for as long. He just had to be reminded that the scheme didn’t depend on making a fool of her but upon letting it appear that she was making fools of us.
Apparently he was convinced, or at least interested enough himself. He turned to practical matters. “So when do we try it?”
Finally, a positive attitude. But not as positive as mine. “Now.”
“Oh, Jesus. This is ridiculous. I’m not ready now. I have to think about this-how to approach it, what to do.”
“You jerk,” I said with mock venom. “There is nothing to think about. You just be there; the rest will take care of itself.” I dropped some money on the table and initiated our retreat from the booth. Walking out past the projection screen, I realized that neither of us had even looked at the game we supposedly came to watch. Normally, you couldn’t have gotten me away from the game. But this was not to be a normal day. We walked out into the bright light waiting for our eyes to adjust and our slightly pickled brains to recall where we had parked the car.
The drive home continued to tax my abilities to keep Ryan convinced-as well as my patience. “But Ron, what if Diane . . .?” “How are we going to . . .?” “Who is supposed to . . .?”
I was beginning to despise Ryan-a strange feeling in light of our current connivance. Finally, I put an end to it. “I’ll worry about getting things started. Once it gets going, do you think you can handle it or will you need help from me.”
My comment was carefully calculated to shut him up. It did. All he could manage to say was, “Well, you know her better than I do.” Indeed I did. After six years of marriage and one kid, I ought to. I wondered if his comment had been designed for the same purpose as mine.
We drove on in silence-a big improvement, the son-of-a- bitch.
I hadn’t had a day like this for years: Chrissie at her Grandma’s house, Ron off with Ryan for their male ritual of beer and football, and me lying in my lounge chair in the pool with a wine glass floating next to me. If it went on for hours, it would still end too soon. As it happened, it ended much too soon when I heard the car door shut and R & R come in the house. “Honey, where are you?”
Where am I, indeed? Where would you be on a the first day of peace and quiet you almost had in recent memory? “I’m in the pool. I’ll be in in a minute.” Kiss the moment goodbye. Oh well, my glass needed a refill anyway.
I rolled out of the chair, grabbed my wine glass and climbed out of the pool. I didn’t dry myself off except by wrapping up in my robe and I decided to let my hair drip. One doesn’t have to be formal for Ryan. In fact, he probably prefers me this way.
They were in the kitchen opening up a couple of cans of beer which were clearly not needed. “So, how was the football game?” I showed polite, insincere interest in their activities as I picked up the mandatory peck from each of them.
“Great game, great game. Do you want another glass of wine?” Ron was talking too fast. He does that when he is up to something: maybe he was angling for a night out with Ryan or a fishing trip with the guys, or maybe he was trying to get me in a good mood to tell me he had dropped a bundle on the game. I decided to wait and let his little plot work itself out-maybe doing what I could to make it hard for him. That’s always fun.
The boys (my isn’t that an appropriate phrase sometimes) headed for the living room and I, after grabbing a towel for my hair, followed. I paid little attention to their conversation when I first came into the room assuming that it was game-related. “Yeah, but if the officials hadn’t blown the call in the third quarter . . .” and “Ah come on, he never had possession of the ball.” I had little patience with their usual postmortem of the game.
It was a few minutes before the actual content of their conversation registered. They were having a funny (and probably phoney) disagreement over the effects of childbirth on the female body. Despite, or probably because of, the fact that Ryan’s wife was now expecting their first, he was taking the pessimistic position. And my hubby, my Ron, bless his sweet heart, was defending the possibility of a pretty postpartum profile. He was probably just doing it to keep the argument going, but I loved him for it. And, whatever his motives, he was certainly right.
“You should listen to Ron, Ryan. He is, after all, in a position to know whereof he speaks.” The more I thought about it the more I came to think that it took a lot of gall for anyone, especially Ryan, to sit in front of the mother of an eighteen month old girl, in her own home no less, and argue that once you had had a kid, you’d best make love with the lights out. Ryan had a lot of gall.
“That’s right Ryan, look at Diane.” Bless his heart again. “She looks just as good as she ever did.”
“Yeah, she looks fine,” but he didn’t look-and he wasn’t very convincing. “But you know what I mean: the wrinkles and the stretch marks; the saggin’, baggin’, flabby stomach and tits; and God knows what irreparable damage it does down below. I mean, well endowed as I am,” he snorted, “I’m no match for a baby’s head. And I can’t believe that I’ll be any match for Emily after this.”
“Stand up, honey. And take of your robe.”
Mind you, I appreciated Ron’s defense of motherhood and his pride in my body, and it isn’t a bad body by anyone’s standards. Still I wasn’t sure I wanted to be presented as a model of feminine beauty. (And to tell the truth, you could still see some stretch marks, though there certainly wasn’t any “saggin’” or “baggin’”.) I was almost mad enough to comply with my husband’s outrageous demand. Almost.
“I’m not going to play your silly game.” And I took a long slow sip of my wine.
“See, Ron.” Then turning to me and lowering his voice as if this were our little secret. “No offense to you Diane. I think you look as good as anyone could after having a baby.” He raised his voice and I knew that the other shoe was going to fall and that it was meant for Ron, not me. “But once a woman has a baby, she has a lot to cover up. She just can’t ever look as good.” Sure, Ryan, no offense.
And again, Ron to the defense. “You’re full of shit.” The defense wasn’t very eloquent, alas. “Come on, honey, stand up.”
I was more than mad enough now. Without saying a word, though I suspect that Ryan would have to be blind not to have known what I was thinking, I took a leisurely sip of my wine, slipped on my sandals and stood facing Ryan. Looking him right in the eye, I began untying by robe in a slow and, I hoped, seductive way. It seemed to be working. While my eyes were riveted on his, his were riveted a shade lower on me. I shook the rob off my shoulders and let it slide off my arms to the floor.
I was left with nothing on me but sandals, a swimsuit and two men’s eyes. My suit was white and not risque by contemporary standards. Still, even Ryan couldn’t deny that it didn’t cover a lot. I had a medium dark tan (that, and early skin cancer, being just some of the benefits of having your own pool). I liked the contrast with the white suit.
Without breaking my stare at Ryan, I took a model’s quarter turn to the right. He should be able to see that I was not “flabby” or “saggin and baggin.” I could see that he did. I turned another quarter turn and looked away from him for the first time and toward the mirrored wall opposite him.
I detest mirrored walls; they’re gauche. Ron and I had planned to take the mirrors off when we moved in three years ago but something else always took priority. I was glad we had procrastinated. Seeing myself now reconfirmed my opinion that I’m not bad looking for any age-especially for a 27-year old mother. An adequate proportion of my height is devoted to legs and they could still be on the cover of a “How to Banish Cellulite Forever” pamphlet. No “orange peel” here. From this distance I couldn’t even see the remains of the stretch marks on my stomach which had only the slightest curve to it. And the curve of my hips was, if anything, better now than it had been before Chrissie was born. I’m sure that my breasts were not as firm as they had been five years ago. Still, since they were not really large in the first place, they hadn’t started to sag. They were full and round and well-formed. I always thought that my nose was a little too long and straight; growing up I had envied girls with “cute” noses. But I had high and prominent cheekbones and pure blue eyes (now fringed by red from the chlorine of the pool-another “benefit”) and dark brown wavy hair that looked almost black in its wetness.
Though I don’t think of myself as vain, I enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror on this occasion. I was, after all, supposed to be the center of attention. But the value of the mirror wasn’t just in its reflection of me but, also, in its reflection of Ron and Ryan. I studied them studying me. They were completely unaware of my view, and it was a most interesting one. They stole a sideways glance at each other and Ron gave a smirking wink. I wondered what that was all about. I didn’t have to wonder long.
“Feel her stomach, Ryan. There’s no flab there.” I wasn’t sure I liked the direction things were going. Up until now, I felt that this had been my show. Now I was starting to feel like a thoroughbred at auction. Check her teeth. You won’t find anything wrong there. And look at those hocks. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but I didn’t do anything to stop it. “Go on,” Ron urged, “I’ll get us another round.”
Ryan had an embarrassed grin on his face. The cause of the embarrassment was evident as he got up, even though he tried inconspicuously to rearrange the contents of his Jockeys. It looked like my little show had more of an impact than I had thought. I was surprised and flattered. I tightened up my muscles and let him feel my stomach, trying to keep one eye on the barometer in his crotch. Perhaps Ron was treating me like meat on the market but, when Ryan touched me, I knew he was no detached, meat inspector. Standing at my side, he put his left hand in the small of my back and put his right hand on my stomach. The hand on my back was warm, almost hot, but the other was ice cold from holding the beer. The contrast sent a charge through my abdomen that reverberated in my limbs.
Ryan was almost forgiven. He could be dense at times, but he was cute. He had curly, sandy-colored hair and greenish-brown eyes. And while you couldn’t tell a thing by looking at his eyes, his thoughts were betrayed by his mouth. Anyone who took the time to study him in different moods (as I had) only had to look at his mouth to tell whether he was angry, sad, relaxed, bemused or embarrassed. (Right now, he looked tense and distracted.) He was muscular in a lean, wiry way and he had a great little ass. But best of all were his hands-those hot and cold hands.
But now the contrast between the hands was dissipating. He was pressing firmly but not hard on my stomach. I noticed for the first time that Ron had gathered the empties from the coffee table and was walking behind us towards the kitchen. A minor distraction. But as he passed us, he grabbed the tie on my swimsuit top and pulled the knot out. “No sirree. No saggin’ here.” And he walked on to the kitchen.
So that was what this was all about. Ron was overplaying it a bit though. Untying my top was like tossing Ryan the keys to his car. Ron had loaned me to Ryan. He was even helping to unwrap the present so that it would be clear that it was a gift. Very obvious. But perhaps Ron needed to do it this way.
He was gone now anyway, and Ryan’s hand, now as warm as the one on my back, was under my top cupping my breast gently while he brushed his thumb across my hardening nipple. I felt that warm flush in my groin and started to lick my lips but checked myself realizing how trite that would be. It took great self-control to resist the compelling urge to reach down and grab his huddled mass that was yearning to be free. I wished that I could release his pants as easily as Ron had my top. But I wanted to be the passive spectacle just a bit longer. Well, almost passive. I reached down and untied the right side of my swimsuit bottoms, the back of my hand sliding against Ryan’s bulging pants. The suit fell away from the right side but the string on the left side held it up-for a moment. Ryan slipped his left hand down on my butt and, with a flick of his finger, sent the suit to the floor. I shrugged my shoulders and sent the top to the same fate while I pursued my own.
It was time for a dramatic shift in comportment. As I turned towards him, I noticed that his shirt had snaps rather than buttons. How nice! In one almost smooth motion, I tore the snaps open with my right hand while unbuttoning his pants with my left. Down with the zipper. I stopped suddenly and stood close to him with my breasts just touching the hair on his chest. His breathing was barely controlled and I could tell by his mouth that he was tense as a tightwire. As if in slow motion, my hands crept around to rest, one on each buttock under his underpants. I paused once more, allowing him to anticipate, and then began easing down his pants. Suddenly, I changed the tempo again. I sank to my knees at once, taking the pants down to his ankles. As I did, I felt his penis spring free like a sapling closing a drawline trap. It dragged between my breasts, up my neck and past my chin. For a moment it bounced there reminding me of a bobblehead behind the back seat of a car.
Ryan stepped out of his pants. (Thank God he had taken his sandals off earlier. Underpants are bad enough, but shoes and such can destroy the rhythm of love completely.) And as I slid my hands back up to his buttocks, I felt his shirt fall too.
He was bursting, and the speed with which I had taken his pants off had led his body to expect no delay on the progression toward gratification. But I waited, moved slowly, and put my lips wetly and softly where shaft meets satchel. I moved up moistly and, while I held him in my hand and my tongue circumvented his circumcision, I glanced over at the couch.
Ron was back. I knew he would be; I was surprised only by the fact that I had been totally unaware of his return. He was staring with dilated pupils at his wife fellate his best friend. But it looked as if I were doing it to him. As I took Ryan’s erection in my mouth, I could see Ron’s grow. He reached down to shift his penis so that it was going up and his hand lingered there. When Ryan’s hands came forward to gently cradle either side of my head, Ron abandoned all subtlety and pretense; he began kneading himself vigorously. His eyes were still directed toward the site of the adulterous act he had initiated, but there was an unfocused, distant look in them.
God designed us poorly when he made it so difficult to see our lovers’ faces when we are having oral sex. There would be a lot more, and better, oral sex were it not for this design flaw. I enjoyed bringing Ron off by hand primarily for the chance to watch his face show the transitions from interest to arousal to urgency to climax and relief. It is very different watching that, causing that, controlling that when you are not going through it yourself. Ah, to be able to do that during oral sex.
But it was almost like doing that now. I was a good eight feet from Ron. He was getting a long distance blow job. And he was enjoying it. I was sure that there were a variety of emotions churning in his head. And I suspected that tomorrow he might have problems with that we had done today. But the predominant emotion in his head right now was voyeuristically inspired lust.
Ryan’s hands pulled gently at my neck. Ron’s presence receded and Ryan’s supplanted it. He pulled me up to face him and as he did I felt his penis, now wet with my saliva, retrace its path: down my neck, over my collar bone, between my breasts. It came to rest, hotly, in the middle of my belly. I felt it pulsate. It pulsed with a life of its own and with the life given it by his undulating hips. He raised my chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed me sweetly but passionately. He lay me down gently without taking his lips from mine. Pulling away a matter of inches, he moved on top of me between my legs. And staring deeply into my eyes, he entered me in one smooth stroke that felt a mile long. As I looked into his eyes, I saw that the game had turned dangerous. We were not just fucking, at least he wasn’t. He was making love to me-in the fullest sense of the phrase. And, he was doing it in my husband’s presence and with his consent. At least I thought Ron was still consenting, for now the coffee table blocked him from my view. Well, Ron could be slow; perhaps he hadn’t noticed the change.
Fortunately, Ryan seemed to-perhaps he read the look in my eyes. He withdrew, pulled on me gently to roll over. His hand, reaching between my legs and up over my pubic bone, raised me easily to my knees. My face was still against the carpet. It was his turn now to call the dance. And he was being playful in his own ways. As he moved behind me, he let the tip of his penis rest so lightly against the lips of my vagina that I could barely sense his presence. But imagination filled in where sensation left off. He grabbed my hips and moved back and forth, letting his penis slide down under me and drag my clitoris very perceptibly. As he did this, he would flex and relax his muscles letting his penis sometimes rub hard against my clitoris and sometimes whisking lightly across like a leaf blowing over a lawn. It felt good and I thought that I had no particular desire that it end. But when he, of a sudden, pulled me onto him hard and fast so that I took his full length at once, it seemed like the answer to every desire I ever had.
Now, as he was moving in and out of me-sometimes rhythmically, sometimes not-I raised up slowly on my elbows, then on my hands. Looking down between my gently swinging breasts, I could see his wildly swinging balls flapping between my legs. It is a comical sight forever denied to men. (Even for gay men, the angle isn’t right. And if they managed to contorted themselves so they could see, the view would still be obstructed.) Now was no time to laugh, so I tore my eyes away and looked up.
Ron was still sitting on the couch, though he had slouched down so much that he was almost lying. His pants were wide open and he, as they say, had a hold of himself. It looked like he had lubricated himself somehow. My guess was with beer. I couldn’t imagine that that would be very effective, but he seemed to be doing okay.
I could see him looking at us then gazing off toward the ceiling then looking back at us-sometimes at Ryan, sometimes at me, and sometimes where we joined in unholy union. When I caught his eyes, I said nothing but licked my lips and tried to communicate a nonverbal invitation. I could take care of him too. Lord knows, I had seen it done in porno flicks. He looked at me for a moment but didn’t make a move towards me. I didn’t know if the invitation had been misunderstood or declined. I didn’t spend much time thinking about it then. I was distracted elsewhere.
I concentrated on flexing and relaxing the muscles of my vagina. Ron thought I was very good at this, that I “felt like a damn milking machine” when I did it. (I had never asked him if he really knew. But he might have, having been raised on a farm.) And he was certainly right that I was pretty effective at getting cream.
If I was any judge of men, I figured that Ryan was nearing his climax. I was certainly with him. When I looked over at Ron, I saw that he was, in a sense, with us too. As it turned out, I was a good judge of men. We all came together-or nearly enough so.
Yesterday went better than anyone had a right to expect. But what, pray tell, for an encore? Answers filled my mind as I drove towards Diane’s house, but none of them seemed satisfactory. Ron was gone-out of town for the day. That would make things easier, I thought. I wouldn’t have to worry about where his ruminations had led him in the dark of the night after passion had passed. And I knew I had to be with Diane, but I didn’t know exactly how to handle it. I decided to do it with force.
As I turned onto her street, I saw Diane returning from dropping Chrissie off at her friend’s house down the street. (Chrissie’s absence was even more valued than Ron’s.) Diane was wearing only slippers and one of Ron’s shirts. She often wore his old shirts when she was going to spend the day cleaning. She praised the comfort of them. I had never thought that there was anything else to recommend them until I saw her right now. I was at once aroused and outraged that she would parade around the neighborhood like that. I suppressed the latter reaction. Such possessive jealousy was bad enough coming from a husband.
I slowed down letting her get back into the house before I drove up. When I got to the door, I banged on it-shunning the doorbell. She might as well know the tone of the visit from the outset. The door opened a crack.
“Oh, hi Ryan.” Then tentatively: “Ron’s not here.” As if she didn’t know that I knew.
“I didn’t come here to see Ron.” I pushed the door open with more force than necessary.
She backed away to the other side of the entryway and clasp a hand on the front of the already buttoned shirt. “What do you want?”
It was a set up line if ever I had heard one. She might as well have said, “Is there anything I can do for you?” I didn’t respond immediately. I moved across to stand just a bit too close in front of her-almost cornering her. “Why, you, of course.”
She looked around nervously, surveying her escape routes. “Ryan, this isn’t right. It was different yesterday. Ron was here and wanted it to happen.”
“Well, I’m here now and I want it to happen.” I regretted the line before it was out of my mouth. It sounded like it came from the script of a bad porno film.
“But I love Ron. I would never do anything to cause him pain.” A lame response, indeed. When a lady says that, you know you are making progress.
“Sure, we all love Ron. But I’m not talking about causing him pain. I’m talking about causing us pleasure. Don’t deny that you were just as excited as I was yesterday.”
She paused, as if thinking it over. Also a good sign. But when she spoke, the news was bad. “No, Ryan. I just wouldn’t feel right about it. I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” I moved a shade closer and took her hand down from between her breasts. “Why, it’s the easiest thing in the world.” I spit out the last few words and, at the same time, put both hands between two of the buttons and ripped the shirt open. There was dead silence for a half second. I could hear some of the buttons hit the floor and roll. Then, so quickly I couldn’t follow her actions, Diane kicked me in the shin, pushed me back and ran towards the phone in the kitchen.
I caught her at the phone and dragged her to the living room. She struggled but wasn’t able to inflict any more wounds, though the one she had inflicted on my shin was throbbing like Hell. By pulling down the shirt till it was around her wrists only, I was able to restrict her arms some. I threw her to the floor and kneeled over her. I put a knee across her belly and pulled down her panties.
Things could have gone various ways at that point. I could tell that, despite it all (or because of it), she was excited. I was debating trying to kiss and caress her until she was aroused enough to consent. But she looked at me with venom. “You think you own me now because of yesterday. You’re like some dog that sprays a fire hydrant and thinks it’s his. Well, I’ve got something to tell you. I’ll bet the fire hydrant enjoys it more than I did yesterday.”
The options had narrowed. I undid my pants and slipped them down only the necessary amount. Climbing between her legs, I put one hand under a thigh and pulled it up, exposing her vulnerably. My other hand rested gently but significantly on her throat. She didn’t resist-nor did she cooperate. I entered her hard and fast. She winced, but made no sound.
I stopped to let her feel the fact that I had gotten what I wanted and her desires had been irrelevant. I leaned forward for a second, and in a violation that was in some ways more personal, I held her chin immobile and kissed her hard while I began moving in and out of her. I was so excited that it took me only a matter of seconds before I came explosively. (Being a minuteman now was a virtue I told myself; it underscored the fact that her pleasure didn’t matter.)
“Well, how was that loverboy? As good as yesterday?”
I don’t know why women can’t observe a moment of postcoital silence. I roused my consciousness from its stupor. “I don’t know if it was as good as yesterday, but it was damn good-maybe better than any we’ve ever had before yesterday.” I was ready to slip back into semi-consciousness when my conscience started nagging. “I suppose that it was a little fast for you. But you’ll get no sympathy from me. You kicked me hard out there. And if I weren’t so busy feeling sexual ecstasy, it would hurt like Hell.”
“Well you’ll get no sympathy from me. ‘Saggin’ and baggin”, ‘flabby’, ‘No offense, Diane.’ You son of a bitch.”
I think she was really mad. I grinned and explained that that was the strategy Ron had cooked up for me. I was just following the script. She thought my acting was better than it should have been. But before long she softened. With mock concern she said, “Aw. Does your leg hurt you? Let me kiss it and make it feel better.” I had neither the strength nor the inclination to protest. She rolled me over, pulled my pants off and began kissing my shin. Now shins are not normally known as erogenous zones and mine are no exception. Still it felt good and her hands were sliding to more conventional sites of stimulation. I could feel myself being roused and aroused.
I pulled her up and kissed her before putting her face down on the carpet. Climbing on her back, I began to massage her neck and shoulders, first with my hands, then with my mouth. My knees were on either side of her hips and my cock, now ready for duty again, rested between her buttocks. I could feel her squirm gently. I worked slowly down until my crotch hit her heels, then moved down further to kiss her on the backs of her knees. This, I knew from frequent experience over the past couple of years, was both pleasant and almost intolerable for her. My tongue worked slowly up her squirming thighs. I grabbed one thigh, rolled her over quickly and buried my tongue in her deeply. Not expecting it, she gasped, but quickly recovered enough composure to grab the back of my head and force me even more deeply into her. I wiggled my tongue hard reaching around her thighs to feel her breasts. Then, sliding my hands down to her hips, I pulled my head up so that my tongue drew across her clitoris. I pulled away, used my hands to spread her lips and paused.
She was in a feverish state now. I starved the fever. But just for a moment. So lightly that she couldn’t feel it at first and with gradually increasing pressure, I played my tongue across her clitoris. I put my mouth around her female erection and sucked gently, and then harder. I moved up slowly lingering at the various attractions along the way: pelvic bones, naval, breasts, clavicle, neck, ear lobe. It is a wonder I ever got to her mouth. But I did, and kissed her with honest passion that I felt for her. She responded in kind.
I rolled her over on top of me and let her take it from there. She straddled me and kissed me letting our genitals bump almost accidentally. then she sat up with her hands on my ribs and moved her wet lips slowly up and down the underside of my penis. I think that she was trying to ensure that I was as aroused as she was. She needn’t have given it a thought.
After a pleasant bit of that, she raised herself up and came down on my erection so slowly I was almost in pain with yearning. I looked up between her bouncing breasts to see her facial expressions. She was in her own world, lost in lust. Finally, when she was nearly done, she leaned forward to give me a breathless kiss and shuddered as if in convulsions. Momentarily, I did so as well, and we held each other gently, for a long time.
Later, over coffee, we talked about a lot, but mainly about yesterday and the prelude to it and the likely fallout from it. We both thought that it had been one of the most exciting experiences we had had. Diane praised herself for coming up with the plan, but quickly lauded me for carrying it out well enough to make Ron think that it was his idea. She expressed surprise about how quickly it had happened. She had expected it to take weeks to plant the idea and let Ron rediscover it thinking it was his own. I took the undeserved credit for getting the plan into action so quickly. Little did she know how easy it was. And we wondered if our blissful, long-running passion would be hurt by it. She said she thought it all depended on Ron’s reaction. He might become jealous or suspicious or cool the friendship with me. I didn’t tell her, but I thought that unlikely.
“Before anything else, I want you to admit that it worked like a charm.” I thought it only fitting that the doubting Ryan eat some crow. We were sitting in my living room, supposedly watching a football game while Diane and Ryan’s wife took Chrissie to the zoo. But the game, while on, was not being watched.
“It worked. I admit it.”
“It worked. I admit it,” I mocked. “I’ve never seen your fuckin’ dick so hard. I thought you were going to come before you got in her.” I reached over and grabbed his crotch now. It was rousing slightly even as he thought of it. He pushed my hand away.
“Yours didn’t look exactly limp. I saw you over there flogging it.” He had indeed and I had seen him see me and seen his reaction.
“But I’m not trying to play cool about it. From the time she stood up to take her robe off and I knew it was going to work, my heart was pounding and my dick was throbbing. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. So how about you?”
“I don’t mean to be pretending that it was anything less than the most erotic experience of my life. I was just afraid to sound too excited. I thought maybe you had had second thoughts about the whole thing. I just wanted to feel you out.”
“I didn’t mean that and you know it.”
I did. I’ll never know why Ryan suddenly loses his sense of humor at times like this. Always serious and always reluctant, but ultimately always willingly compliant.
I stood up. “Come here.” And I knew he would. I placed him exactly where he was standing last week with Diane. Stood right in front of him and undid his pants. I put my hands inside his underpants, one on each buttock, and stopped, looking straight into his eyes.
Diane thinks Ryan is really attractive. I had never been physically involved with any man other than him so I guess I must have felt so too. But I didn’t think of it that way. Ryan and I had just sort of fallen into this relationship in high school and it was good. It started as just a sort of release; we would whack each other off. Sometimes it was still that way. But more often, now that we were not afraid of being “queer,” it was emotionally involved and imaginative lovemaking. And it was a real turn on.
Like Diane had done, I dropped down taking his pants with me and took his dick in my mouth. He was hard and not in the least reluctant now. I heard him moan and felt his hands on either side of my head.
His penis was slightly smaller than mine. (We had measured every dimension we could think of several times.) It was something I teased him about, telling him that the word ‘prick’ was invented for dicks like his, and he pretended to be bothered. But he knew I found no fault with him or his “prick.” I sure let it prick me often enough.
Ryan had moved one hand around to the base of his penis and began pumping. I put a hand on him to stop him. I knew he was desperate but this had to last. I slid my other hand up inside his thigh and worked my middle finger up his asshole, pushing forward to massage him.
When again he seemed close to coming, I stopped and stood up. I slowly took my clothes off and unbuttoned his shirt. His breathing was still heavy, but controlled now. I reached down and pulled the K-Y out of my pants pocket. He smiled. “You’re prepared, aren’t you?” I was.
He seemed to want things to continue parallel to his display with Diane and I enjoyed being cast in her role temporarily. I got down on all fours and he entered me from behind. It didn’t hurt anymore if he went slowly; I guess we had stretched out the sphincter by now. Whenever he was in me like that, at least if I hadn’t just cum, my dick throbbed, hard and hot. Now, replaying last week’s scene in my mind and knowing that he was doing the same, I was completely lost in sexual ecstasy. I was not thinking, though images were flashing through my mind; I was just feeling: my heart pounded, my dick throbbed almost as hard, and my asshole was stretched full while he slid in and out, faster and faster till he came.
He leaned over on my back, reached around and grabbed my cock. Sliding out of me, he started to roll me over onto my back. Instead, I crawled out from under him and faced him on my knees. “When you were screwing Diane, I was so God damn horny . . .”
“Yeah. I saw. But you handled it well.”
“Very funny. I was going to say: I was so horny that I almost came down to join you two. I know that was not what we had planned, but my resolve was weakening. She even wanted me to. She wanted to suck me while you were in her from behind. I was sorely tempted.”
“So, what stopped me was a momentary fantasy I had. I thought about being on my knees in front of her with my cock deep in her mouth and looking up to see you. In my fantasy, I was overcome with desire for you and I pulled out of her, stood up straddling her back and forced your head on my dick. After a moment, I moved around and nailed your ass while you were nailing Diane. Once I had imagined this, I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t do it. And it wouldn’t do for us to do that in front of Diane.”
He seemed to think it through. “I don’t know. She was pretty caught up in the moment. I think she might have found it very erotic.”
“Then, maybe. But later she might start to ask questions and suspect that it was not a novel experience for us. We couldn’t have her wondering what we do on our R & R nights. Could we?”
He just smirked. I pulled his shoulder down till he was on all fours and put the tip of my dick on his lips. He played his tongue across the tip for a moment and then began sucking vigorously. I let this go on for a moment then suddenly pulled out completely. He raised up on his knees and I stood before him with my legs apart, as if straddling Diane. When I looked down, I saw that he was apparently enjoying my fantasy too. While his left hand was on the base of my shaft, his right was rubbing his own.
I pulled out again and moved behind him. Smearing both hands with the K-Y, I reached around with my right hand and took over from him. Then I lubricated myself with my left hand and slid into him gently.
I guessed that he could sort of imagine his dick being in Diane while mine was in him. For me though, the sensation was a familiar, but still funny one. Holding his cock from this angle was so like holding my own. And when mine was being squeezed in his ass, I could imagine that I was holding my own cock. The illusion was maintainable so long as I timed the motions right. As I pulled out of him, I would move my hand to the tip of his dick; and I would move to the base as I entered him. By keeping this up for a moment, I could fix the illusion in my mind. Then, a sudden change in the timing would shatter the illusion and make me strikingly aware of his presence. And while I wished for a moment that I could reach around and feel Diane beneath him, I found this very satisfying.
So did he. “God damn it!” I yelled at him. “You came on the rug. Go get a rag.” I spent the rest of the afternoon listening to every detail of his mock rape of and subsequent lovemaking with Diane. I always found these accounts titillating but I hadn’t the energy to show it now.
Diane was just drying her hair after showering while Ron waited for her in bed. By unspoken agreement, neither had talked of that day last week nor of their subsequent meetings with Ryan. Both had waited for tonight. Diane slipped on a nightgown that looked like a knee-length T-shirt, turned out the light and fell into bed. “So, Ron, how have things been going for you this last week?”
“Shhh.” He put his finger to her lips gently. “Not yet.” He pulled her over to him, propping himself up on his left elbow. With his right hand, he brushed her beautiful dark hair from her face letting his fingers slowly trace her hairline. He continued along her jaw and pulled her chin towards him. He kissed her lightly, his fingers trembling on her cheek.
“I love you, Diane.”
She felt suddenly ashamed that she had not thought to begin so. Pulling his mouth down to hers again, she kissed him harder. “Oh, God, Ron, I love you too.”
They were both motionless for a moment, then Ron reached down, grabbed her crotch playfully and smiled. “So, Diane, how have things been going for you this last week?” They laughed.
“It was a lot of fun, but I’ve had enough intrigue for a while. From what I could tell, Ryan bought everything.”
Ron smiled with one side of his mouth. “Sure he did. It’s easy to get someone to buy something. You just have to make them think that they are getting away with something. I guess in a way he was.”
“What do you mean. He and I have been sleeping together for two years now, so it can’t be just that. I guess screwing your lover with her husband’s consent, even apparently at his suggestion, could be getting away with something. But you’ve known about Ryan and me from the start. And he knows that.”
“But he doesn’t know that you know that. He thinks you and I have great secrets from each other: that while I know about his relationship with you, you don’t know that I know about it and that you don’t know about his relationship with me at all. He thought that while he was pretending to play a game with you and keep a secret from me, he was actually playing a game with me and keeping a secret from you. It was all very exciting for him. We needn’t destroy his illusion about who knows what. Though I sometimes wonder if he would mind.”
She rubbed her finger on my nipple. “I don’t want to take a chance. I like things the way they are.”
So did Ron. The only thing he wanted to change was the subject. “Tell me about the next morning.”
“Didn’t Ryan tell you about it. I thought you usually discussed these things in detail.”
“He told me about it from his point of view. I want to hear it from yours. Did you really give him that bruise on his shin?” So she told him every detail of her encounter with Ryan. She always remembered details that he forgot and Ron usually found her perspective more interesting. Her internal goings on were more imaginative.
And she insisted that Ron give her a blow by blow account of his frolic with Ryan yesterday. (‘Blow by blow’ was her hackneyed little joke. She never seemed to tire of it.) He told her how they had replayed part of the scene of last Sunday with him in her role and then played out an alternative ending.