All through my life, I have always been told, how do you know unless you try? Until I began writing this story, I never thought about much about this say. However, this is an accurate description of our, Yvette’s and Brad’s sex life, and our sex life has always been exciting with a youthful willingness to explore our sexual boundaries. If you were to look at us now you would probably never guess that we have a healthy appetite for exploration. The experience I am about to retell involves a threesome that happened during the summer of ’96.
My wife, Yvette is eight years my junior. She is short around 5’1 with naturally curly shoulder length light auburn hair, green eyes and a curvaceous figure. Her breasts are 36B with a small nipple lie almost flat when not aroused but grows several time their size when aroused. While her skin is light similar to people of Irish, English, or Nordic descent. If you were to look at Yvette, your first guess would probably be mid-20 but the reality is she is closer to 40. She is almost eight years my junior and we met shortly after her graduating high school.
In contrast to her simple features, Yvette’s personality is quite complex. Probably the most interesting aspect of her personality is when you talk to her she comes across very progressive in her ideology but beyond her progressive mask her values regarding relationships are quite conservative. This comes about, I feel, because of her mother divorcing then remarrying in a short period when Yvette was young. For Yvette, I feel, this created a home with competing values. Also, I feel she was never was able to resolve the competing values and instead incorporated them into her overall personality.
An area where this dichotomy of competing values shows up is in her way of relating to people. Yvette is an outgoing individual who is quite confident. She is a patient and understanding individual who demonstrates a lot of tolerance for differing opinions. In contrast, in her personal life, she will listen to differing opinions but believes there are certain rules, regardless of how illogical or out of date they maybe, that must be followed. The conflict between adherence to rules and being tolerant of differing in opinion comes through when it comes to sex.
Yvette feels as though she must strictly adhere to society’s concept of femininity, being a wife, and being in a heterosexual relationship. While, there is another side of Yvette, a side that wants to push the limits of sexual exploration and become a sexually empowered woman. An example of this conflict, between pushing sexual boundaries and adhering to rules, continues to play today as she tries to find a balance between the two of them. For example, when we met, she already had a bisexual experience with another woman and she even participated in a two female threesome where she was the other woman who did not interact with the male. Oddly enough, I was the first guy she was ever with even though when it came to men she was quite flirtatious and remained flirtatious even after being married. However as time went on, she began shedding the need to push the boundaries in favor of adhering to standards society define but there are still times when the desire to push the boundaries comes through in her behavior. These internal struggles and opposing views makes Yvette a dynamic individual.
In comparison, I am quite taller than Yvette with darker hair, blue eyes, and my skin tone tends to be darker in complexion similar to Eastern European or Mediterranean in descent my experience included some two male threesomes, an open relationship, and being in a friend with benefit relationship before meeting Yvette. Unlike Yvette’s experiences, I have only had straight experiences. Also unlike Yvette who has competing views on life, I have always kept an even keel being open-minded while maintaining a consistent liberal outlook. However, as I get older I find when it comes to financial issues I am becoming more conservative but I still maintain a very liberal outlook on social issues. For me, I believe this comes about from my education and having a more stable family life as I grew up.
In our relationship, I tend to be the voice of reason while wanting to do more exploration that is sexual but not go into areas where I feel there is too much risk. Whereas, Yvette early in our relationship started out being sexually adventurous that resulted in us having a few two male threesomes. However, as the years passed she became more of the traditional American wife, developing issues with body image, not wanting sex as much, wanting a career, and preferring to spend time together instead of sex. Even with her becoming more traditional in her views, sex has always remained exciting and she still flirts with the idea of having another threesome.
So how did we get to the point of having a few threesomes in our relationship? As I reflect on them, I feel they were, for us as a couple, a bridge between married life and putting aside our youthful wild side. As individuals, I feel for Yvette, it was a confirmation that she was desirable and being able to put aside her past. For me, it was a chance to have a few more threesomes and allow Yvette the ability to explore this side of her sexuality.
At the time when most of our threesomes occurred we were like many couples just starting out, affording a mortgage was not possible so we chose to live in an apartment complex. The complex had several buildings, with a courtyard that had a pedestrian path, which led to a nearby park, and an outdoor community area. As a multi-unit housing complex, it nicely landscaped with large trees lining the border of the complex in order to give some privacy. Adding to its beauty it was located outside of the city that we work, which meant we had a long commute. However, its location and layout was perfect for helping us to unwind after work. Moreover, living in an apartment complex gave Yvette the opportunity for going on walks and in the summer occasionally lying out in the sun getting that perfect bronze tan.
The warm weather, that year, started earlier than usual, in mid-April, typically it did not start getting warm until lat May or early June. The early start to the warm weather gave Yvette an early start on her outdoor activities. On one of her walks, she met Jim, an older individual about 10 years older than Yvette and took an immediate interest in her. If my memory serves me correctly, Jim lived in a different building in a basement apartment. Jim is average height, with average build though he had some muscle definition especially in the upper-arms and chest and has short brown hair. Appearance wise he was a smoker whose face aged faster and usually has a days worth of beard growth. His clothes shows a bit of age and his jeans appear to be baggy on him giving him a bit more rough appearance. Normally this type of man could not get Yvette’s attention but there was something different about Jim. In contrast to Yvette and me, Jim was a bit cruder in his behavior than us. For Yvette, it provided a bit of a risk due to neighbors finding out, the attention from flirting is something she enjoyed, and made it a bit of an adventure for her.
Anyhow getting back to how Yvette’s meeting Jim led to a memorable sexual adventure, as spring became warmer the time she spent taking walks became longer. After noticing this, one day casually I asked her what was the reason and she began to tell me about Jim flirting with her. Probing a bit deeper I asker her, “Would you like to fuck him?”
To which she replied, ” no.” She said, “I enjoyed the attention and it makes me horny. But, nothing would come from it. I am a good girl and would not anything like that” After saying that she grabbed my wrist, without saying a word, she pulled my wrist towards her and then sliding it down her pants so that it touched her pussy. Normally her pussy does get moist when mildly aroused and it takes a bit of foreplay to get her really wet. This time it was so wet, when thinking about the experience, it reminds me of how wet she would get when should would talk about fucking other guys before she met me. She then smiled at me, blushing a bit, and said to me, “see.”
At this point, using my knowledge about our relationship, I knew this was a situation with potential but at the same time, it was fragile. This meant pushing the idea too much of her fucking Jim would destroy any possibility, regardless of how remote the possibility was but to increase the possibility, the idea needed nurturing. Nurturing meant, being supportive and encouraging it where possible while not appearing too eager. Also, this meant knowing when to ask about the flirting and when asking becomes too much. Essentially nurturing amounted to an art whereby instinct, listening, and it became vital by trying to put together the pieces of information to know how to proceed. For Yvette, it meant needing time to become comfortable with the idea and feeling secure with the idea before going through with it. Therefore, for the next few weeks, I kept quiet and letting her go about her daily walks.
About three weeks passed without me not saying anything. It was just after the Memorial Day weekend, at the end of May; Yvette started regularly tanning outside in the community area of the apartment wearing her size pink size 10 bikini with spaghetti straps that showed off her breasts. One day, I was outside on our deck grilling a 24 oz t-bone steak for me and grilling an 8 oz sirloin steak for Yvette. In the distance I could see Yvette lying face down on her beach towel but unlike the previous year, this time Yvette was tanning near Jim’s basement apartment window with the tie on her bikini top undone. Seeing her lying like with her string undone and lying in a different area intrigued me. The change in her behavior indicated to me this was a time to push the idea of her fucking Jim a bit further but stopping the conversation at the moment I hit resistance. When she finally came in, I mentioned what I had noticed. Oddly, mentioning what I had observed did not surprise her, as I thought it would, and her reply was a bit unexpected. She tells me, “Jim was still flirting with me through his window and he teasingly said I looked like a good fuck. I did not make much out of it.”
Again, I ask, “Would you like to fuck Jim?” I was expecting that she would give me her typical reply.
Instead, she said it, “It is tempting, quite tempting and I would love to feel another cock in me. But, I cannot go through with it. I mean it would be cheating and I could not deal with myself after it happened.” She continued, “How would we do it? I mean, everyone in the complex knows I am married and seeing me with him would look bad.” These statements told me that she was considering the idea at some level. However, the barrier seems to people finding out and she may have some issues about cheating. For me, to move it forward means supporting her is working and I need to give her some more time.
In order to help move it forward and attempting to address the relationship barrier I told her, “You know, it is not cheating if we agree to it, I am told beforehand, and provide you stick the boundaries we agree to then it is not cheating.”
“When you get married, you are not supposed to have sex with other people,” she said.
“I understand what you are saying and I love you no matter what you decide. However, I can tell the idea tempts you and I find it arousing. Maybe, we can find a compromise?”
She did not respond to the last statement and that told me she had hit, what I call information overload. By not responding to the last statement, it told me time to end that part of the conversation. The attention Jim was paying her was wearing her down and by not making a fuss over it seem to provide her with some more reassurance. During the next few weeks, our conversations revolved if she should go through with fucking Jim what would it mean for her. One conversation I recall her saying, “When I was out I was really tempted to say to Jim fuck me now but I held back because I did not how you would feel.”
“If you fucked him, I would not hold it against you because I know that is what you want and I would find it a turn on.”
She thought about it for a moment by not saying anything and she looked as though she was considering what I had made sense. “I know it would turn you on, me too but I could not go through with it. I wish that I could.” With the more recent conversations, Yvette went from telling me it was not going to happened to wanting to go to his apartment to fuck him but at the last moment deciding not to act on her impulses. A few moments later, she says to me, “You know, the attention Jim is giving me is quite a turn on. I love you but I enjoy the attention and want to know what is like to fuck him. If you know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean and it is something you want. Loving you and being married to you is different from just sex. Why is it wrong if you want to have one fling?” What Yvette was saying it was not our marriage was the issue but she feels she needs to fit in the role of wife thereby not giving in to her urge to have sex with someone else. After a few weeks of talking about it and having a few incidents where she was preparing to go through with it only at the last moment changing her decision, she finally decides that will approach Jim about her idea.
After approaching Jim about her idea, she talks about the conversation she had with him and if I remember correctly, the conversation went something like,
“You know Jim, I find you physically attractive and I am curious about what it would be like to be with you once,” she says.
“Yes, once. No one is to know about it and it is one time with no begging for more afterward.” Then she went on, “One more thing, before anything happens I need to be sure my husband is alright with it and nothing happens until he gives me the green light.”
“Okay, I can agree to it.”
To which Yvette said, “In the mean time, if I hear this becoming a part of the gossip around here or you push me for a decision from my husband then all bets are off.”
However, after telling me about the conversation she admitted, “I am quite nervous and I want it to happen naturally. I do not want to plan it out and I want to create a situation where it can happen without a lot of discussion. The more I discuss it the less like I am to do it.” So, we came up with a plan that she would start flirting with him but this time let the flirting go further by letting the flirting to become quite sexual. The twist this time she would suggest they go to Jim’s apartment to see if he is man enough to go through with what he says or if he is all talk.
“The two things that I ask. One, before anything I happens I want some notification so I do not worry if you do not come back right way. Second is I want you to tell me what happened.”
“Do not worry, you will know when it is going to happen and I will tell you everything.”
After saying that, unless she changed her mind or Jim started talking about their plans to other people in the complex, I realized that it was going to happen. I can remember the day. It was early July just after July 4th and it was in the low 100s. The air conditioning was on, and it was one of those days if you exerted yourself outside you put yourself at risk. Before leaving she spent, allot of time preparing.
Normally she does not shave her pussy but this time she did. Told me, laughingly, “If I did not shave down there he would be gagging on a hair and it would be embarrassing to dial 911 if he started coughing uncontrollably.”
As I saw her getting ready I asked, “Are you enjoying all of this preparation?”
“In some ways I am and I finding it arousing. In other ways I find it a pain and I am glad I do not need to do this all of the time.”
Seeing her spending a lot of time getting ready for someone other than me made me feel conflicted. A part of me found it arousing whereby I become rock hard with my heart racing, breathing faster, my palms definitely sweaty and being unable to sit still. Also there was a part of me that was a bit uncomfortable worrying about her safety and what it would mean afterwards for us.
It was not much longer before she was ready. That day she wore left wearing her pink bikini, taking her beach towel, and sunscreen. She must have tied that bikini tighter then normal because the tracing of her erect nipples shows under her bikini top. To this day I remember her saying, “I am going out to lay in the sun and with any luck Jim will be doing his best to keep out of the sun.”
A few hours passed and I knew what it meant. My heart began racing, palms sweaty, and I began pacing. A part of me was very horny and I wanted to save it for when she cam back. Another part of me, was worrying like a mother with a lost child. I remained in this conflicted state for a few hours until I heard in the distant the sound of the car door closing in the parking lot and followed by a few seconds later of Yvette trying to quietly walk down the hall as she approached the apartment. Once I heard that all worry subsided and I started to become excited to hear what happened. When she finally came through the door, I sitting in a chair with the lights off and the television on , I remember Yvette’s asking very quietly, “Are you up?” before trying to sneak into the bedroom.
Responding to that question, I tell her, “Where you actually expecting that I would be asleep while you were out fucking Jim?”
Yvette’s tone in her reply tells me that she is joking when she said, “no.”
The next thing I remember is her standing there. The light in the apartment accented her 36B breasts to the point where they appeared perkier than usual. To this day, I do not remember her breasts being perkier than normal that night. Finally, I remember the light showing a few love marks on her neck and her face flushed from embarrassment. I suspect her embarrassment was due to the fact I was still up hearing her get in and I believe she wanted to crawl into bed thereby me not seeing the marks on her neck nor smelling a musky fishy smell that I sometimes associate with sex.
Since I was up, she decided she would tell me about what happen. “After leaving the apartment, I wanted to be as causal as possible in order not to attract attention and I lay outside. A few minutes later Jim comes over and begins flirting.”
“So was he surprised that you were more flirtatious than usual?” I asked.
“Wait, I am getting to it,” she said.
“He begins by telling me how hot I look and that gets me horny. Then he says he would love to fuck both my pussy and ass. It becomes too much for and I told him that he would not last no more than one time.”
“Did that get him interested or did he loose interest?”
“Yes, he became quite interested and I could see he got hard. He did not want to become a part of the gossip grapevine of the apartment complex. Therefore, he told her that decided to take her to a nearby hotel and arranged for a cab to pick us up.”
“Was it a nice hotel?” I asked.
“No, cheap bastard” she said. She continued by describing the hotel as, ” One of those cheap hotels that you get for $29.99 a night that comes with a bed that looks as though someone died in which takes up most of the room, an old television that barely gets in 3 channels, and carpet from the 60s.” I could tell by her description she was not happy about his choice and it reassured me that this was a one-time thing.
Yvette went to some length talking about during the first hour they were both nervous, how they just talked while sitting on the edge of the bed and having a glass of wine. She went on talking about how he lacked confidence and beginning to doubt if this was a good idea. She tells me, ” I contemplated if this was a good idea since both of us were nervous. However, every time I began thinking about ending the evening, I would starting thinking about him fucking me and how badly I wanted his cock inside of me” She continued, “As I thought about what it would feel like if he fucked me it made me horny, which was enough to keep my interest.”
CHAPTER ONE: SETTING THE SCENE
“Grind down on his face!”
Sam perched forward excitedly in her chair, encouraging Laura to rasp her close-shaved, bristly bush roughly against her husband’s shiny face.
The atmosphere in the room was sexually charged, scored by the symphony of Laura’s excited gasps, wet slurps of cunnilingus, and Sam’s curt instructions.
Laura was totally naked, her 34D boobs jiggled as she rode Chris’s face. They were both on their living room floor. Her sweating body glistened in the sunlight that streamed through the front window. Dust particles danced in the warm summer air. She was fully exposed should any visitor happen to walk close by and peer through the window. She was facing her husband’s feet. His similarly nude body was spread-eagled on the Persian rug that covered the wooden floor.
“Harder. But don’t cum yet.”
In contrast to the married couple’s nakedness, Sam was still dressed in her grey track pants and sweaty black running vest. She had a glass of iced water in her hand that she sipped, while she watched her new clients, ‘in training’. She was moist between her own thighs, her nipples hard against the damp cotton vest, but she didn’t touch herself. Not yet anyway. She focused on them.
It had all begun two months earlier, when Chris and Laura had answered her ad. She was a legitimate, qualified personal trainer, based at a nearby gym, but she did home visits too. Chris and Laura were both 27 and keen to get fitter, to lose a few pounds and to look great. Both were good looking anyway, but pretty much everybody can use a bit more definition, a healthier lifestyle, right?
Straight from the very first meeting, there was a frisson of excitement; an electricity between the three of them. At 23, Sam was four years the couple’s junior, but taking charge came naturally to her. She was a hard taskmistress and Laura and Chris quickly demonstrated a willingness to follow her orders. Almost blind obedience to her, in fact.
Nobody had called her Samantha for two decades. She was Sam, pure and simple. An only child with separated parents who both had new families of their own, Sam had been the only person she could rely on for as long as she could remember.
Four weeks after meeting Chris and Laura, Sam stayed behind for a drink after their running and exercise session had finished. The conversation turned to sex. Sam encouraged her clients to use sex as physical exercise and as a motivation. But it soon became obvious that Chris and Laura’s sex life was vanilla and unfulfilled. Yet that’s not how it seemed either of them wanted it to be. Somebody had to take charge.
“Okay. Push back. Ram your butt on his face now.”
Laura didn’t even hesitate. Her eyes were closed. She adjusted her hips so her sweaty anus plopped directly onto Chris’s face. Her mouth was open in a small, eager ‘o’. Just a week ago, Laura had never even had a tongue in her ass and Chris had never once put his tongue into one. But Sam was broadening their horizons. Fast.
She smiled at Chris’s erection, jutting up towards his stomach muscles. Neither he nor Laura touched it. His turn may come at the end? Maybe not. His dick was a decent size. His groin was totally devoid of hair, waxed bald as a baby now, a blunt reminder that Sam was now in charge of ‘all his body’. She could hear him struggling to breathe and see his neck muscles working. The room smelt heavy with the sweet and sour perfume of their perspiration and sex.
Sam couldn’t really believe her luck. This was her fantasy in the flesh. She had a casual boyfriend but he was nothing serious. She loved kinky sex and was bisexual and dominant. So Chris and Laura ticked all her boxes.
Laura had already revealed to Sam that she had been a virgin when she married Chris 7 years before. She hadn’t done more than kiss another boy when she was in her mid-teens. She’d been 18 when she met Chris and had married him at 20.
Even Chris had only ever had one girlfriend before Laura. They met on arrival at college and it was love at first sight. Sweet, romantic, young love. Sex was typically plentiful but bland; inexperienced, rushed, missionary, vanilla. Laura had shyly admitted to Sam she’d almost never had an orgasm from sex with Chris. They had both slowly settled into a sexual rut. Each of them silently thought it was their destiny to live with their own private, unshared fantasies.
Before fate had decided to scratch their seven year itch.
Sam sipped her water and smiled, as Laura bounced her sweaty buns energetically over Chris’s chops. Laura had enjoyed quite a few huge orgasms once Sam had taken over her lovemaking.
The shattering, memorable, addictive kind that become like drugs.
Now, for the past fortnight, Sam had forbidden Laura and Chris to have any sex together at all, or even to masturbate, jointly or alone, without her permission. Laura’s eyelids opened and her smoky green eyes sought out Sam’s face.
Laura was pretty, very pretty, prettier even than Sam. She was a brunette with shoulder length dark hair, high cheekbones, and classic features. She stood tall, at 5’9″, with a model’s legs and a lissom body. As she bucked and moaned astride Chris’s face, her posture showed off the symmetry of her tiny waist and rounded hips.
The slight excess on her thighs that she’d been worried about had already been exercised off. Her skin glowed from the strict, healthy diet Sam had put her on. But Sam’s favourite feature was Laura’s boobs; high and full, 34D, with dark berry nipples. Her tits were larger than you’d normally expect on such a lithe body. They bounced and swayed and made Sam want to kiss and bite them.
Sam herself was a fake blonde, only 5’6″, but her athletic, upright bearing made her appear taller. She had citron-yellow hair cut in a short bob, framing her cute puckish face.
People said she looked like some French actress, but she couldn’t remember the name. Her body was magnificently fit, without a millimetre of fat, although she herself would have liked more generous curves. But she only had a flat A-cup chest and was going to get herself a boob-job if she ever got the money. Boys fancied her aura, energy and sexual enthusiasm as much as her looks. She’d lost her virginity at 14 and had never looked back since.
She smiled and gently nodded her head. Laura’s eyes blinked back at her in relief like two emeralds. Laura was desperate to cum and she was seeking approval to swivel her clit back into contact with Chris’s tongue. After two hours of exercise, every inch of her skin shone and her bottom was leaking sweat.
Sam watched her lean forward so that her stubbly ‘five o’clock shadow’ of pussy hair slid down either side of Chris’s nostrils. By now, his face was rubbed red and raw from his wife’s bristly pubes. But his tongue slid obediently into her pink folds.
“Okay.” Sam sighed magnanimously. “You can cum”.
*** *** ***
Three days later, Sam arrived early and let herself in. She had a copy of their door key now. She made two home visits a week; Thursdays and Sundays. Both training sessions were officially two hours; paid in cash at her full, standard rate.
But today was going to be different. A whole Sunday. They had all agreed to kick things up another notch. Chris greeted her in his running shorts and a Coldplay T-shirt. His face was fresh-shaven but he still bore the ‘shaving rash’ of the marathon face-sitting session three days before.
Chris and Laura lived in an upmarket starter home. It was a modern built house with a living room, kitchen, master suite, a guest bedroom and a third bedroom-study. It was quite a contrast to Sam’s rented bedsit in a derelict neighbourhood.
He was as cute as his wife was pretty. They made a handsome couple. He was 6′ 1″ tall with caramel hair and a square-jaw. A bit like the actor Christopher Reeve, but in Clark Kent rather than Superman mode. He proved the truth that not all male submissives are poorly endowed wimps. He had intelligent brown eyes and wore glasses most of the time.
Like Laura, the excess inch round Chris’s waist when they’d begun their training had already disappeared. Sam had put him on a rigid alcohol-free, low sugar, zero red meat diet. He had given up his 5-a-day smoking habit and tried as hard as he could to observe her total veto on masturbation and internet porn.
“Morning Chris.” She said, placing her key on the console. Her envelope was already there, containing cash for two sessions and a copy of their past three months bank statements she’d asked to see.
“Good morning, Miss.” He replied. “Coffee?”
She smiled and he flicked on the kettle. There was a flushing sound and Laura emerged from the downstairs toilet. She was wearing running shorts as well, with slits up the side. She had on the new skin-tight top Sam had found for her online; ‘Bimbo’ was emblazoned across her straining chest in bright pink letters.
“Ready?” Sam greeted her, without even saying hello.
“Yes, Miss.” Laura replied.
Sam pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket with a ‘treasure map’ on it. It marked a route to her own neighbourhood in red pen that added up to a six and a half mile run. There and back would be thirteen miles. A half marathon. Sam had deposited a coin buried by a tree that was the ‘treasure’. Laura had to run and fetch it and bring it back. As fast as she could. Sam watched from the front doorstep as Laura set off running down the street.
Sam sat down with the coffee Chris had made for her; black without sugar. He knelt at her feet and she began the interrogation.
“So, no cigarettes?”
He shook his head.
“No booze? No porn? No sex?”
He shook his head.
“No jerking off?”
He paused, then shook his head.
She looked hard into his brown eyes. He swallowed.
“I didn’t cum. But I did touch myself a bit. I managed to control myself before coming.”
“At the office. In the mens room cubicles at Lewis Mitchell. On Friday.”
She feigned anger. She had forbidden him to cum last Thursday at the end of the session. It was the first time she hadn’t let him spurt his load, not even just before she left as she usually did. She wanted to see what happened if she didn’t.
“You expect me to believe you didn’t make yourself cum?”
He met her gaze. “I didn’t. I promise. It was agony but I didn’t.”
She stared at him, exploring his brown eyes, and then finally smiled. It was probably true. How delicious.
“What did you do Friday and Saturday nights?”
He shrugged. “Supper. TV. Chores. Early nights.”
“No touching Laura? No sex?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I swear.”
“Just a peck on the cheek goodnight.”
She chuckled. It felt so good to be controlling an adult couple; married, older than her, forbidding them to do what any normal husband and wife would do at the weekend.
“Take off your clothes.”
He quickly obeyed, stepping out of his flip-flops, shorts and Coldplay T-shirt. She studied him casually. He’d make a fine boyfriend, husband even. A good earner, domesticated, well mannered. But he was hot too. His waist was narrow and his torso flared out in a sexy v up to his broad shoulders. His cock and balls looked strangely magnified by the fact there was no pubic hair around them.
Sam watched his eyes widen in shock. But he obediently unlaced and removed her running shoes and socks. Next she raised her hips so he could tug down her grey track pants. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. She signalled dismissively that he should leave her running vest on.
She sat above him, naked from the waist down, thighs apart. Her own bush was lush and curly, in contrast to Chris’s baby-waxed groin and Laura’s bristly stubble. His eyes looked down at her feet and his face had flushed red.
“Look at me.” She snapped.
He gazed at her and gulped.
“You don’t think all that oral training you’ve been having is just for your wife, do you? Well, do you?”
He shook his head. “Er … no Mistress.”
She stared him down until he glanced away then reached out to tug his hair. She twisted his head until his eyes were fixed on hers. A thrill of power surged through her.
It felt so good, thinking of Laura, barely out of the house, running a half marathon. And Sam was about to cuckquean her as the next stage in the takeover process. Eventually she’d have Chris’s dick inside her – though probably just the once – to prove she could, but for now his tongue and lips would be enough.
It would have been immediately obvious to anybody that Sam’s pussy wasn’t clean. Her labia were puffy, her thighs damp and her pubic bush was wet. She was usually a manic bather and took showers twice a day or more. But she’d had sex with Tim at midnight and again that morning before he left. Then she’d just pulled on her kit and come straight round. On purpose.
Chris lent forward and ran his tongue up her gaping slit. A bolt of electricity ran through her. This was a first, even for her. She shut her eyes and settled back into the armchair. To think, she was being paid for this!
*** *** ***
Chris controlled his gagging reflex. There’s a big difference between fantasy and reality. It was obvious that Sam’s pussy had been fucked recently. But the fluid oozing out of her was clear and rancid, not thick and white like fresh semen, so he guessed it was at least from earlier that morning, or maybe even the night before.
He ran his tongue between the folds of her soaking slit, up and down. She gasped and he felt her body shudder, then relax, and her thighs parted even wider. He realised that he had not even considered whether Sam might have her own sex life beforehand. He’d just assumed she was single, part of their triangle, and not thought about the possibility she had a boyfriend as well.
Yet here he was slurping the fishy spunk of some unknown guy. Did the guy know? Had Sam told him what she planned and had they laughed together as he deposited this load in her pussy? Who was he? Old? Young? Black? White? Chinese? Married? Fuck knew? He could even have some disease? He realised he just had to trust Sam.
It didn’t really taste of much. Just sour and salty. But the stench was worse. And the thought. He couldn’t have licked it from anywhere or anybody else. But somehow Sam’s pussy made it bearable. His young Mistress. His 23 year old trainer. Hot. So fucking hot. And sexy. And dominant. He was kissing her cunt at last.
He suddenly thought of Laura. Out running. Shit. What would Laura say? What had Sam said? “You don’t think all that oral training you’ve been having is just for your wife, do you?”
He’d never considered oral sex before. Was it being unfaithful? It wasn’t like he was fucking another woman. He was just using his tongue. But how would he feel if Laura gave another a guy a blowjob? That would be infidelity too, wouldn’t it? Just because Sam had told him to do something, didn’t make it right, did it?
But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He was like a deer in a trap. A honey trap.
Then he felt fingers in his hair. Her thighs tensed and she shifted her body.
“Hold my knees up.” Her voice was crisp, authoritative, unembarrassed.
He used his hands to support her and found her crinkled butthole under his face.
“That’s right. Yes.” She hissed. “Put your tongue in there now.”
*** *** ***
Laura walked for a minute or so, then managed to stagger up to a jog again. She had terrible stitch. Her legs ached and she was dripping with sweat. But at least she’d found the coin and was on her way home now.
Thank heavens most people didn’t seem to notice her outfit. The slit shorts and the tight T. At least it supported her bouncing breasts as she ran, so they didn’t flop about too much. There were a lot of men, women and families out and about in the sunshine. Thankfully only a few groups of teenage kids. A few smiled slyly at the ‘Bimbo’ logo inscribed in pink across her chest.
The humiliation and adrenaline excited her in equal measure. What was she, a grown woman, doing? Out running to please her personal trainer? This wasn’t just training, after all, was it? It was sexual submission. Pure and simple.
*** *** ***
By the time Laura stumbled home, Sam was showered and dressed. She had forbidden Chris to mention anything about what had happened between them. It would be their secret.
Sam let Laura drink a glass of water and recover her breath. But then it was time for Chris’s reward. Sam knew it was important to bait the hook.
Laura hadn’t licked Chris’s asshole yet. Up to today their recent conversion to analingus had been a one-way street. But what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Sam was an equal opportunities Domme!
Chris bent over and clutched his ankles. He was totally naked. Laura knelt behind him. She was still dressed in her running shorts and T-shirt. They clung damply to her curves.
“Use your thumbs to prise open your husband’s butt cheeks.”
Sam chuckled at the nervous expression of distaste on Laura’s red face.
“Good. That’s it. Wider. Now have a good look inside.”
Sam leaned down and put her head alongside Laura’s, peering into Chris’s puckered anus. His buns were toned, hairy with a red zit on one cheek.
“Mmm …do you like what you see?”
Laura’s throat bobbed. Her voice cracked. “Er … n .. y … yes.”
“Then why haven’t you done this before?”
“H … he never asked me to.”
Sam snorted. “Never asked you to? Why didn’t you offer to? He’s your darling husband, isn’t he?”
“I … d …” Laura’s whisper trailed off.
“Well get your tongue up there right now.”
Sam gave the back of Laura’s head a light shove of encouragement. She watched her pink tongue stick out and disappear between Chris’s cleft.
He gasped and his semi-erect dick jumped to complete attention.
Sam reached under him and gave it a few encouraging tugs. Then she perched down on the arm of the sofa to watch the entertainment.
“Mmm … looks good. I can’t believe you’ve been married seven years and you haven’t tongued his shitter before. His dick is sticking out like a yardarm. He’s loving it. I’m going to make you both give each other so many thrills over the months to come.”
Laura’s head bobbed rhythmically in and out of her husband’s ass. Sam lifted her phone out from under a cushion and took several photos.
“Okay.” She called out after three minutes. “Lie face up on the floor now.”
Laura pulled her head away, stared at Sam, and slowly wiped her lips. But after a pause, she obeyed, lying down on the living room floor.
“Okay. Sit down on her face, big boy.” Sam winked at Chris. “Facing me.”
She watched as he gingerly squatted astride his wife’s gorgeous features.
“Now grind down on her face!”
*** *** ***
Two weeks later, Sam moved in.
Officially, she was their rent paying ‘lodger’ in the third bedroom. But in reality, Sam took the master suite, Chris moved to the guest room, and Laura was relegated to the small bedroom-study.
Sam used their bathroom and Chris and Laura shared the guest shower-toilet.
Their relationship had moved on apace. Chris now wore a shiny new Steelwerx Extreme chastity tube 24/7. Its measurements were tailored to his size. He worked in an accountancy office in a well cut suit. His pleated trousers hid the steel cock-cage from view. He sat down to pee in the mens cubicles and he’d aroused no suspicions in his colleagues yet.
Sam cut back most of her roster of fitness clients apart from a few favourites. She took up residence as a lady of leisure. She decided that Laura would immediately quit her 3 days a week sales assistant job in an upmarket department store, so she could become a fulltime housemaid. Sam advised them that, with some cutbacks, they could all survive on Chris’s income alone.
However, she had a plan for how Laura would soon contribute financially.
*** *** ***
Chris ate his packed lunch at his desk and worked through lunchtime. He was doing his best to impress his boss. It was his annual performance review in a couple of weeks and Sam had set him the target of getting the highest raise and bonus. He had always done well in his 5 years at Lewis Mitchell & Co but he’d been cruising. Now he was determined to impress his new Mistress.
He also concentrated on his work to minimise his sexual frustration. In the past he’d spent many a lunch hour jerking off in the restroom. The firm was full of sexy twenty and thirty something executives and secretaries. It was hard to see them all in their summer dresses and tight skirts and not feel horny.
But Sam was super-strict. She only allowed him one fantastic orgasm a week. Two weeks ago, He’d almost blown Laura’s head off after she sucked him off, having licked his asshole for the first time.
Now that Sam had moved in with them, he was hooked. Infatuated. He loved his wife more than ever but he worshipped their Mistress like a goddess. His crush on her was totally out of control. And he couldn’t do anything about it.
A week ago, while Laura had been out running again, Sam had instructed him to fuck her. He had never known sex like it. He’d slept with only one girlfriend before Laura, so Sam was only his third. He was no expert. Sam wasn’t even as pretty as Laura but man, could she fuck! She’d made him eat her out afterwards, in the marital bed he had shared with Laura, guzzling his own spunk from her cunt. She’d kept him at it until only a few minutes before Laura had arrived home.
He felt guilty but excited. After all, he knew this was only a temporary game for Sam. If she wanted a bit of illicit sex with him, who was he to complain? And what Laura didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, would it?
*** *** ***
Laura was hurting. The plastic ruler didn’t cut her flesh but it stung like wildfire. Sam was lashing it randomly across her bottom as encouragement.
Laura was bent over her own kitchen table, her naked breasts pressed to the wood, her buttocks draped over the edge. Her wrists were tied behind her back with Velcro straps.
In front of her stood Tim. Sam had introduced him as her own ‘fuck buddy’. He was well over 6ft tall, muscular and dark, of mixed ethnicity. He worked in a gym as an instructor. His track pants were round his ankles and his erection poked out of his thick clump of wiry black pubic hair. The brutally defined muscles of his abdomen made it look like a bar of milk chocolate. Sam had invited Tim round to see her new home and to introduce Laura to a new cock.
Laura had never even considered whether oral sex was unfaithful? It wasn’t like she was fucking another man. She would only be using her mouth. But how would she feel if Chris did cunnilingus on another woman? That would be infidelity, wouldn’t it? Just because Sam was telling her to do it, didn’t make it right, did it?
But in spite of her mental doubts, she opened her lips and slid them over the velvety crown of Tim’s large penis. Deep down, she knew she was doing it, not because of the sting of the ruler, but because she wanted the humiliation of sucking a stranger. He thrust his hips forward, pushing his veined erection into the back of her throat, making her gag. She felt his fingers gently tighten in her hair.
“Yesssss …” she heard him hiss in pleasure and Sam’s amused snort.
“There we are. I told you you’d be inside her mouth within minute or two.”
Laura’s eyes watered as she gagged on his length. He pulled back, letting her breathe, then pushed again, building a rhythm.
“And it’s true I’m really only her second guy?”
“Yup.” Sam replied, both of them discussing her like she was meat.
He chuckled. “Then she’s going to struggle to get me off, no hands”.
“Well let’s at least give her time to try.”
Laura heard a click and realised Sam had taken a photo with her phone.
“Mwa …” Laura objected, pulling her lips away.
Tim’s fingers grabbed her earlobes tightly and the plastic ruler slashed loudly down across Laura’s bottom, making her inhale a mouthful of penis.
“Just keep sucking.” Sam ordered matter-of-factly. “I’m only snapping a few private souvenirs of this moment.”
Laura shut her eyes, as if by blanking out the view, somehow the lens wouldn’t be able to see her either. She concentrated on breathing each time the erection withdrew from banging her throat.
“Use your tongue. French kiss it.” Sam ordered.
She curled her tongue and did her best to obey, drooling like a dog.
Tim was really starting to facefuck her now; hard and fast. Laura almost choked on it but they ignored her. She heard more camera clicks.
It went on for what seemed like several minutes; in and out, thrust and pull. Occasionally Laura felt the stinging cut of the ruler whenever she tried to draw away. He was just fucking her face. Her eyes were shut and wet. She didn’t know if her tears were more from gagging or crying.
“Well blow me down!” Tim’s voice grunted suddenly. “Mmm. I’m going to cum. The bitch has done it.”
“Whoopee.” Sam said to her. “Open your eyes.”
Reluctantly, Laura blinked. She could only see a blur of skin.
“Look at me.”
She turned her head slightly towards Sam and made out her elfin face, peering at Laura from inches away. Then the camera clicked.
“Finish me!” Tim groaned to Sam, jerking his hips backwards.
Laura’s lips hung open like a goldfish as his penis vacated her mouth. She watched in surprise as Sam’s fingers flew up and skilfully masturbated Tim’s throbbing shaft, aiming it directly at Laura’s face.
In moments, it erupted.
“Yeeaaahh …. mmmmmmm.”
“Keep that mouth wide open.” Sam snarled, eyes flashing at Laura.
Somehow, she obeyed. She shut her eyes to protect them from the pulsing jets and held her jaws apart. She felt hot fluid squirting her; her nose, cheeks, forehead. It felt endless. Bitterness assaulted her tongue, lips and nostrils.
“Oh man.” She heard Tim exhale.
Sam was laughing, camera snapping. “What a glazed doughnut!”
Thirty seconds passed. Laura heard them moving, the sound of Tim pulling up his tracksuit, yet another camera click in front of her face.
“Eyes.” Sam’s voice said.
Laura batted her eyelids again, peering through the goo. Sam’s eyes and teeth were grinning down at her mischievously.
“Good girl. Not bad for a first try.” She slid a finger down Laura’s face and scooped up a big blob of semen, holding it to Laura’s upper lip.
Laura hesitantly dabbed her tongue out and licked at the white fluid.
Tim peered over Sam’s shoulder smiling. “Guzzle it all down, slut. There’s plenty more where that came from!”
*** *** ***
Sam lay in bed that night, planning the future.
She was stretched out in their double bed. Her own clothes now filled the wardrobe and drawers, her own cosmetics were in the basin and shower, her own bag and purse rested by the side of the bed.
She had never set out for this point, certainly not this far, this fast. But there was no turning back. It felt so good. To be so in charge.
She had locked Laura in the tiny third bedroom early, at 8 p.m, like a kid. The room contained just a small desk, a wooden chair and a pull-out sofa bed. Laura had clearly been petrified that Sam would tell Chris about their afternoon with Tim. But, hey, there was no rush. A spider waits until its victim is well and truly enmeshed in the web.
After the two of them had eaten supper together, Sam locked Chris in the guest room. In his single bed with his dick still caged in his Steelwerx. She had ridden his face, soaking him with her cum. She loved the fact that just one thin wall away, his wife was curled up on an uncomfortable sofa bed, trying to sleep, unaware of what was happening a few feet from her head. Sam had left Chris frustrated in his steel tube.
She felt no more guilt than would a pretty young girl who snares a rich guy as her boyfriend. If he were some Russian oligarch or New York hedge funder, Sam would merrily spend his money and keep him happy, wouldn’t she? The world wouldn’t frown.
So why should people think any differently just because she was dating a kinky married couple with a nice house? She’d spend their money and keep them both happy.
She lay in the dark, smiling, and drifted off into a deep, contented sleep.
*** *** ***
Over the next two weeks, Chris was sucked into a vortex of subspace. His full balls screamed with frustration but he felt increasingly hooked on his love for Laura and his lust for Sam. He had never felt remotely as sexually charged in his life before, but had no release for his pent up frenzy.
At work, he’d somehow managed to concentrate and impress his boss and colleagues. Meanwhile, Sam had taken control of his and Laura’s joint bank account and finances. For some weird reason he wanted to impress her.
Finally, old man Lewis called him into his office and gave him the news. It was good. Chris was getting a 10% raise and a 20% bonus. Surely Sam would reward him now?
*** *** ***
Chris was tied spread-eagled on the single bed while Laura tantalised his erection. Sam had instructed his wife to give him a meagre slow hand job as his reward for “improving the family finances.”
Chris was naked except for a velvet blindfold over his eyes. He couldn’t see Laura’s pussy as she hovered above his head, facing his feet. He was whimpering with excitement, moaning in disappointment whenever her languid fingers pulled away. She teased him, barely touching his throbbing vein.
Sam was standing in the doorway smiling, holding her phone in her hand, taking occasional photos. His raise and bonus were even better than she’d hoped. He deserved this paltry reward. Lewis Mitchell had rewarded him. So she figured it was important for her to incentivise her own staff too.
She winked at Laura to start again, slowly building up the rhythm. Laura’s manual skills were improving all the time. Every afternoon, Laura gave Sam massages, manicures, pedicures, and all kinds of sexual pleasure. Her endless bicep curls and wrist raises had given her the strength and stamina of a fulltime spa therapist.
Sam nodded and motioned her fingers up and down, signalling to Laura to lower her cunt onto her husband’s mouth. It had been several days since Laura had cum. She had become addicted to the huge toe-curling climaxes she enjoyed since becoming submissive to Sam.
But like any dealer with an addict on the hook, Sam was starting to increase the price of each fix.
Sam’s eyes twinkled with amusement as Laura smeared her wet gash back and forwards over Chris’s nose and tongue. They had all come so far in such a short time, but there was so much further to go.
She watched Laura’s nails toying fleetingly with her husband’s pulsing erection, barely making contact. Her fingers fluttered like butterflies. His cockhead was drooling pre-cum that shone in a translucent puddle on his bald groin.
Sam knew he could wait a while yet. They had plenty of time. There was, after all, a plan.
She indicated to Laura to cease touching Chris. Then she curled her finger and put it to her lips, gesturing Laura to follow her quietly out of the room. They left Chris to his thoughts and sexual hunger.
“Good girl.” Sam put an arm round Laura’s shoulder when they were downstairs in the living room. “I’ll pop up and keep an eye on him shortly.”
Sam pulled the Velcro straps out from under a cushion and patted the bench. Laura smiled nervously. Bondage sessions were always intense but they often ended with mind blowing orgasms. The bench was a sturdy, low table, covered in fabric. Laura’s head and hips extended over each end but the bench supported her back and bottom. Sam expertly fastened her wrists and ankles to the wooden legs of the bench. Then, smiling down, she eased Laura’s bent knees apart and used a single long cord to lash them into a V, pulling the rope tight under the bench, to hold them open. Finally, she tied a thick black velvet blindfold over Laura’s eyes.
Blindness magnifies all the other senses.
Sam could relax. She had them exactly where she needed them; both tied up and separated, Chris upstairs and Laura down with her. She poured herself a glass of red wine and fired up her I-pod. The opening magnificence of ‘O Fortuna’ flooded the room. Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana was one of Sam’s favourites. Pop music was great for dancing and aerobics, but classical or jazz were best for sex.
She unlocked the top drawer of the desk and slid it open. It contained many of her new ‘toys’: cuffs, clips, crops, gags, plugs and more. All purchased with Chris and Laura’s savings. But pride of place went to three magnificent vibrators; one was a good size, another had a strap-on harness and was even larger. But the middle one was largest of all.
Sam’s new toy, that she used herself was the first of the three. It was a bright pink waterproof rabbit, thick, long but comfortable. Laura had already spent hours between Sam’s legs using it to bring her off numerous times.
But Sam had never even tried the third and largest on herself. It had only just arrived in an unmarked package from an overseas online store. It was outsized, black and downright ugly, with plastic veins and a huge ridge where it was ‘circumsized’. The same company sold fake forearms for fisting and plastic coke cans and bottles, but this was the largest item in their entire catalogue.
Sam sipped her Merlot and admired it. There was a handle section that housed the twin battery pack, and then exactly 12 inches of penis length to be inserted, making the entire vibrator 16 inches long, like a black police truncheon.
As impressive was the width. It was 2 inches wide along the shaft, flaring out to 2.5 inches in diameter at its bulbous crown, plus another 0.5 inch ridge of circumcised ‘foreskin’, making it 3 inches at its maximum girth.
As well as the battery pack, the handle housed a trigger and a cartridge that could be filled with fluid. In the tip of the penis there was a hole and the trigger released a copious liquid discharge into the cunt at a suitable time.
And now it was time for Laura’s inexperienced, under-utilized 27 year old cunt to start widening its horizons, so to speak!
*** *** ***
Laura squealed like a stuck pig.
She breathed in and out in rushed, manic gulps. She had only ever had Chris’s penis inside her. She had no means of comparison but she thought her husband was quite well endowed. He never hurt her, not even at the beginning, but he filled her nicely.
She heard Sam’s amused voice in her ear and felt a wet tongue by her blindfold, licking her lobe.
“That’s not even half of it, my dear. But be brave. I’ve taken it all, so you can.”
She felt Sam’s fingers again, right on her clit. Right there! She gasped in pleasure-pain, trying to stretch her thighs wider, although she felt as if they were spread flat already. A sharp fingernail probed the entrance to her bottom.
“Ple … aaaagh.”
She screamed as she felt the plastic intrusion thrust about another mile up inside her. It was ripping, shredding her female parts into pieces.
“Quiet now.” Sam’s taunting voice was sharp. “A baby will come through this gap one day. And this thing is so much smaller than a newborn baby.”
“No … please!”
And then Laura heard the doorbell ring.
“Ah! Bang on time. That will be your audience.”
*** *** ***
Chris heard the doorbell. He lay there, blindfolded, his wife’s juices dried on his face, still erect, hoping his two women would return.
Minutes later – two, five, ten, he wasn’t sure – he suddenly felt the shock of the lightest touch on his erection. It bounced in response. He gasped.
Somebody was in the room. He could sense movement. He breathed in, trying to scent who it was. Sam? Or Laura? The intruder stood by his head.
The was the lightest rustle and then he groaned as a hot splat landed along his penis shaft. A plastic ruler or something caning his hardness.
“Grrrmmm.” He exhaled in shock and pain.
Sam’s voice was even crisper and more authoritative than usual.
“I want this hard. Exercise it. Up!”
Chris used the muscle in the base of his shaft to lift his erection.
He relaxed, until a second fiery stroke lashed along his length.
Sam sniffed unsympathetically. “Up! And down!”
He followed her voice, tightening, relaxing, in rhythm, training his cock. A minute or so passed while she stood there in silence. He could sense her watching him as he concentrated on his penile work out.
“Wait here.” He heard her say, as she left him. “It’s time to party.”
*** *** ***
By the time that Sam got downstairs, Tim and his two mates were gathered round Laura, easing the vibrator yet another inch or two up her cunt. They had brought round Tim’s DVD camera on a tripod.
Laura was struggling, her muscles and sinews taut, her veins sticking out. The men were grinning, chuckling, eyes bright. Laura’s mouth babbled quietly, too scared and submissive to scream, but begging them for mercy.
“Pull it out, guys. It’s obviously too big for her yet.”
Laura whimpered with relief. Sam knelt down by Laura’s ear.
“As you can’t handle a fake one, it’s time for a real one instead.”
Laura’s head turned. Although she couldn’t see, she was staring at Sam through the blindfold. Her mouth opened and shut in silent eloquence.
Tim was ready in moments. He shucked off his track pants and crouched between Laura’s spread thighs. Without pausing, he plunged his cock in place of the enormous vibrator that he’d just pulled out. The other two guys gathered round and fondled Laura’s big tits, thumbing her dark nipples.
“Please …” Laura gasped.
“Don’t be silly.” Sam said into her ear. “You’ve been wanting this for ages. I know you have. You’ve sucked his cock before so now take it up your cunt.”
The visible, bottom half of Laura’s face froze; her mouth hung open, nostrils flared, jaw set. Several seconds passed. And then, suddenly, just as Sam knew it would, her expression changed. Her mouth inhaled excitedly, her neck arched, giving in to her sexual response.
Of course, if Laura could have seen the other two men, she’d have been less thrilled. Sam sniggered to herself. Tim was a good looking guy, but Laura’s next two lovers had been handpicked. Ginge, a pasty faced redhead, and Cole, a fat bald black guy. But cock is cock and Laura couldn’t see the rear carriages of the train she was about to haul. She bucked and snorted like a rodeo filly and, quickly built up to an embarrassingly shrill orgasm.
Tim matched her timing and dumped his load unceremoniously inside her. After he clambered off, at first Sam wasn’t even sure that Laura realised that a different man had replaced him. Ginge plunged into her sodden cunt easily and quickly, shoving her knees as far apart as he could. But his breath was full of burger and onions and he insisted on kissing Laura’s mouth where it poked out under the blindfold. Laura twisted her head from side to side in a token gesture of resistance to a new cock.
Sam shuddered. Ginge was a nice enough bloke but the idea of sex with him …yuk. She checked the DVD camera on its tripod. The red recording light glowed. One day, in the not too distant future, Laura and Chris could witness this special moment together. Proof that good looks aren’t necessary for a guy to partner the right kind of slut.
A slut to fuck.
Sam adjusted the lens to get a close up of Ginge’s freckled and acne-scarred face. He winked back his watery blue eyes and gave a yellow-toothed grin. Sam used to hang out with Ginge’s older brother who was her own age. But Ginge was three years younger and only 20. She doubted he’d got much sex in his life so far.
The room was dark. The drawn shades barred the moonlight completely. But for the cone of light surrounding him in the bed from the overhead lamp the room was was blackness. At the sound he closed the book and placed it on the nightstand and sat up, propping the pillows behind him. He turned to the door by memory, not seeing, and followed her approach by sound as she made her way upstairs. The glare of the lamp blinded him to anything outside the tight circle of light, and he sat still, listening, controlling his breathing; waiting. He heard her soft footfalls on the hall carpet, sensed her motion in the doorway.
She waited for him.
“Come in.” Motion at the edge of sight, the rustle of clothing, several tentative steps. “Closer, to the edge of the bed.” He watched as her legs appeared in the light, but only to mid thigh. A torn black stocking drooped and showed bare skin above it. “You went to the House?”
“Yes. As you said.”
“You’re home early.” As always, he tried to keep his voice neutral.
“They finished early. Said I could go.”
“Small group, then?”
“No,” she began, then hesitated. “No, it didn’t seem so. I don’t think so.”
“Eight, I think, plus two women. It was hard to count.”
“Are you hurt?”
She sighed. “No. A little sore, but no more than usual,” she said with easy recall. He watched her weight shift from one foot to the other.
“Come here, to the side.” He watched her move, the light climbing up her as she negotiated around the corner of the bed, showing the soiled and wrinkled skirt, the bottom of the blouse, buttoned incorrectly and incompletely. Her face remained in the dark. At her sides her fingers twitched nervously at her skirt. She knew what was coming. As it always did.
The fingertips moved to the front, bunching the fabric of her dark skirt. Here in the light he saw the wet stains. She did it slowly, practiced and experienced. The hem slid up, exposing the top of the intact stocking, then bare skin. In the light the glistening streaks were evident inside her toned thighs. There were some bruises, as before. Fingers had pressed her flesh here; hard. Still the hem climbed, exposing her leg where it met her hip on one side, then the other, and her sex came into view, still in shadow, then the light illuminated her.
He felt himself inhale at the lurid sight. Still wet, the thick layer of semen coated her lips and the surrounding area. He felt his breath catch at the sight, forced himself to remain calm, in control. As her legs parted slightly, a bulb of semen formed and hung from her labia, dangling loose until it touched her leg, then swayed in a loop.
“No, not all,” she began, and he heard the unsteadiness in her answer. He knew how she felt about this part. “And not all there,” she continued. She took a shaky breath. “In the back, too”
“Show me.” He watched her lower body turn, slowly exposing her bare buttocks. The sheen of semen and lube glistened in the harsh light. He watched her fingers, slim and elegant as they pushed the skirt up, and pulled herself open. He imagined the flush of her cheeks as she showed her abused rosebud, red and angry, clenching to hold in her earnings. His finger reached out, slowly approaching, and he stroked lightly across it, pushing a little at the crinkled opening.
“Relax,” he told her. “Let it go.”
He felt the muscle ease its tension and pulled his finger away as a stream of semen leaked out and ran down her leg. So much. He heard her shuddering sigh at the relief of letting go. He sensed her shame and her pride, and his chest swelled.
“And the rest, then. Show me.”
She turned again, dropping her skirt, and her fingers fumbled at the blouse.
“Closer,” he told her. “On the bed.” As always.
She climbed on, between him and the edge of the bed, on her knees, the sharp edge of light showing her to her neck, where streaks decorated her collarbone, trailing down to her breasts. Her fingers undid the buttons nimbly, and she pulled the halves aside.
There were bruises and bite marks, and her nipples were swollen and hard. He saw the flush creep down her neck, highlighting the drying streaks. One breast was still wet, and the creamy stripes reflected the light for him.
“There is more, no?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Come, show me.” Her hands came in front of her, near to his hip, and she knelt on all fours and dropped her face into the light. Still blushing and hesitant, her eyes were closed. There was cum in her hair, dangling wet drops, and streaks across her eyebrows and nose. Her mascara ran in streaks down her cheeks, and her lipstick, red and whorish, was smeared above and below her mouth.
“Open your eyes,” he told her. “Look at me.”
He watched one eye open, but the other remained sealed shut, cemented by the thick residue. He hissed a breath through his teeth, no longer trying to keep his desire hidden. She knew. He knew she knew, just as he knew her.
“Awful,” he told her through clenched teeth. “You are an awful slut.” His hands went to her face, touching the wet places, trailing his fingertips to her lips. They opened and took his fingers inside. “Fucking all those men. Women, too?” She nodded, her tongue swirling on his finger. “Letting them fuck you, over and over, filling you with cum.” His voice was heated and urgent. His fingers slipped from her mouth, dropping to her breast, squeezing the wet nipple. She sighed at his caress. “Letting them cum on your face, like a whore, wearing it home and showing me, showing me your used holes.” His fingers trailed down her chest, her belly, and settled between her legs, probing into the swamp inside her. She gasped. “Why do you do it?” he hissed.
“Because,” she began, and shuddered as his fingers penetrated her and his thumb touched her swollen nub. Her head hung down, her hair settling in dark clouds around him. “Because I like it. And because you tell me to.”
“Yes, you slut,” he confirmed with tenderness. His other hand went to her head and lifted it, pulling her face closer, her mouth open and ready, and they kissed, hungry lips nipping at each other, tongues dueling and dancing and eager.
She pulled back, just an inch, and he felt her hot breath in her question. “And why do YOU do it?” She asked.
“Because I like it, too,” he told her, and pulled her down to him, wrapping her in his arms. She nestled her head on his shoulder, and he waited until her breathing was slow and steady before reaching up to turn out the light.
After watching Walt scroll thought the moving channels a second time she lost her patience and grabbed for the remote, but he held it away.
“You men and your remotes,” she sighed, “It’s like your second penis!”
He chuckled. “Are you suffering from remote envy?”
“Please,” Rhonda replied, rolling her eyes, “I could care less. But clearly there is nothing on that you want to watch.” She shifted and drew closer to him, snuggling next to him. “Why don’t you turn it off?”
Walt laughed to himself as he switched off the television and dropped the remote on the table next to the sofa. He wrapped his other arm around his wife and pulled her into his shoulder, feeling her hand on his chest. “Was there something else you wanted to do?” He kissed the top of her head, nuzzling her hair.
“Not that,” she said with a smile in her voice, “at least, not yet, anyway.”
“Uh-oh,” he replied, “sound like a talk.”
“Stop, don’t make it like it’s bad,” she teased, “it’s just that we’ve been so busy lately. You’ve been working late a lot, and I haven’t seen you so much.”
“Oh, you missed me?”
“Of course I missed you,” she said, looking up at him and sitting back. “I love you. I like spending time with you. Being together.”
He felt himself making a puppy face and pulled her back into him, feeling her body pressed close to his. He loved that she loved him, and felt his attraction to her surface through the cares of the day, the concerns over work, which had, truth be told, been keeping him busy and distracted. He was suddenly grateful that there was nothing he wanted to watch on TV. She snaked a knee up over his and molded herself to him.
“M-mm, that’s nice.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It’s been a while. Just the two of us, together.”
“No outside distractions.”
“No one else.”
They fell into a familiar and comfortable silence, as only couple who have been together for many years can do, knowing that being close was enough, that conversation wasn’t needed for a few minutes, and that being together was its own reward, fulfilling all by itself and cementing their connection. After a few minutes he kissed the top of her head again.
“Sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” he told her softly, speaking over her head which was buried in her chest. “Work has been just brutal.”
“I know,” she acknowledged, her voice relaxed and easy, confident and reassuring. “It feels like all we ever talk about recently.”
As if by habit he launched into a recap of his recent challenges at work, aware that Rhonda listened patiently and reacted with concern, endorsing his opinion, not offering advice, but supporting him and empathizing. As they had so often in the past weeks his troubles spilled out, and as he voiced his frustrations he felt his concerns slips away slowly, as though passing them to his wife dissipated them, minimizing them. The act of sharing, and of knowing that she cared for his concerns dismissed their impact, and he gradually relaxed, feeling more comfortable and close, and his stories tailed off, as he became aware that he was monopolizing the conversation. He paused, and looked at his wife.
“Sorry,” he grinned, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to go off.”
“Again, you mean,” she grinned back. She rested her hand on his chest and stretched her neck up to kiss him. “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” she paused, then looked him in the eye and took his face in her hand, squeezing his cheeks. “As long as you’re done!” she kidded and released him.
“Yeah,” he laughed, “enough about work.” He faked a pensive look. “Wanna try politics?”
“Not for a second,” she chuckled, then became serious. “How about us?”
“You wanna talk about us? Sure!” He rested his head against the back of the couch. “I’m five-eleven, about 190, I’m married…” He stopped when she laughed, a full, hearty welcoming sound. “What? Not what you had in mind?”
“That’s what I missed,” she smiled, “the funny Walt.” She kissed him again. “Lately I’ve only seen the serious, distracted Walt.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be, I know what you’ve been going through.” She batted her eyes at him. “Just don’t make it all the time.”
He leaned down, and they kissed again. Through all the years they had been together he had never tired of kissing her. “I love you, Ronnie,” he told her.
“M-mm, I love you, too,” she replied, “and only you.”
He kissed her again. “But you sleep around,” he kidded, referring to the recent changes in their relationships.
“You know I do!” she chided, “And you love it,” then added, “and you sleep around, too, you slut,” she joked. She cocked her head inquisitively. “But not so much recently,” she hinted.
“I’ve been a little busy,” he told her, “work and all. Don’t get me started again,” he warned with a smile.
“You’re not hiding it from me, are you? Going behind my back?”
“Serious?” He saw from her face that she was. “Absolutely not.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? Is it bothering you that we haven’t , uh-m, played around in a little while?”
“Well,” she said, hesitating a little. “I thought you might be upset, you know, after the last time…”
“With Frank?” he asked. He watched her hide her concern and felt a tug at his heart. “Rhonda, did you think I was upset by that? And that I would keep it from you?”
“Well, we haven’t had sex as much as we did before…”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest, hugging her tightly. “Rhonda, baby, I am so sorry,” he said softly, his words spilling out with the ease of honesty. “If I’d thought you were upset, I would have said something; why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was a little worried, you know, that you might be angry, or, I don’t know, jealous or something.”
He held her at arm’s length, looking directly into her eyes. “Rhonda, when we agreed to this, you remember what we said?” She nodded slightly, but he recited it anyway. “We said we would only do it if it was fun for both of us, that there would be no secrets, and that either one of us could say stop at any time, right?” She nodded again, her eyes looking directly at his. He took his hands off her shoulders, sat her up and turned his body to face her, and took her hands in his, enforcing the communication between then. “That hasn’t changed. I love you, and I want us to be happy, to enjoy ourselves. And I know you enjoyed yourself that night with me and Frank.” He grinned. “A lot.” She smiled back at him, and blushed a little. “And I enjoyed seeing you have so much fun. And,” he added, “truth be told,” he joked, “I had a bit of fun myself!”
She grinned at him, and he felt her hands grip his. “Thank you, it’s good to hear you say it,” she acknowledged. “I was worried, like I said, because we kind of trailed off after that,” she continued, lowering her eyes momentarily. “I was worried that it bothered you, that maybe we had gone too far, or something.” Her mouth moved, but nothing came out for a second, and he waited for her to continue. “I did have fun, and I know you were excited, before, and you seemed to enjoy it that night, but after…”
“I got very busy at work, that’s all,” he finished. “What did you think? I was angry?” He grinned, keeping it light. “That I was going behind your back again, violating our agreement?”
“Well,” she explained, “we haven’t had as much sex in a while, and I started imagining…”
“It was work, honey, that’s all, I swear.” She looked fragile, and more vulnerable than she had in past weeks, and he had a sudden appreciation for what it took for her to admit her misgivings. The realization made him reach out for her, to comfort her and put her mind at ease. “I’m sorry I haven’t been attentive,” he consoled her, holding her gaze in his own. “I didn’t realize I was making you nervous, and I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.” He grinned. “And of course, I want you.”
She grinned back at him. “It did cross my mind that you were going behind my back again, like before, when we both were…” She bit her bottom lip, then shook her head and dropped her eyes to their hands, still clasped together between them. “I imagined you thinking I was too attracted to Frank, and were, you know, with someone else.”
“How could you think that?” he asked softly, sincerely.
“Well,” she stammered, “after that night, you were suddenly spending a lot of time at work, and we didn’t have sex as much… ” She trailed off. “I thought maybe you were losing interest in me. Like you were interested in someone else.”
“Rhonda,” he stated firmly, squeezing her fingers. “I love only you. Yes, we both have enjoyed sex with other people, but I LOVE only you.” He searched for her eyes until she met his gaze. “Okay?”
“Yes,” she smiled, “okay.”
“If you don’t feel right continuing our adventures, then we’ll stop,” he added.
“No!” she blurted.
“Whoa, that was quick,” he quipped, and she blushed and laughed. He smiled at her. “But good, I’m glad to hear that you are still having fun.”
“Fun? It’s incredible!” she effused. She released his hand, and brushed her hair back from her face. “Watching you with Danielle was, God, so hot, and the night with you and Frank, holy shit, I don’t know if there’s a word for it!” She shook her head, her hair swaying around her face, her expression one of wonder and dreamy desire. “Hell, no, I don’t want to stop, not yet! Not by a long shot!”
“Maybe we should have Frank back again?”
“Oh, definitely,” she confirmed, grinning. “But not yet; before we invite him back, we should see if we can get Danielle back. She seemed to enjoy herself.” Her grin turned impish. “And so did you.”
“And so did YOU!” he grinned back at her.
She smirked. “Yeah, I did.” Her eyes narrowed and she smiled. “I might want to see how far that goes next time.”
“O-oh, you little devil,” he teased, and leaned in to kiss her.
She wrapped her hand around the back of his head and held him for a longer kiss. When she pulled back, she added, “But first things first.” She dropped a hand down to his crotch. “We have some catching up to do, mister.”
“M-mm, I like the way you’re thinking,” he told her.
“Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve been neglecting me, and I plan on getting back to even tonight!”
She kissed him again, one hand behind his neck, holding him close, the other fondling his growing member as she sighed into his mouth, slipping her tongue inside to caress his. Walt responded, moving a hand to her chest and hefting her breast, touching the sides and the curve beneath before gripping it, pressing his palm against the nipple.
Rhonda moved her mouth, trailing kisses across his jawline to his ear and neck, breathing into his ear before slipping her tongue out, tickling his ear, and sucking on the lobe. Walt felt the tingles run through his body to his growing member. She squeezed him. “M-mm, that’s what I want. I need to get fucked by this hard cock; I need your cock in my pussy.”
“You’ve been neglected by your man,” he teased back, “and you haven’t had any side cock in a while. You must be ready to burst!”
“I want yours,” she whispered in his ear, “yours is my favorite!”
He pulled away from her and slipped his hands up under her tee shirt, then worked them under her bra. She removed her shirt while he caressed her tits, and when she removed her bra he pushed her back on the couch and leaned over her, taking a nipple into his mouth, teasing the other between thumb and forefinger. He felt his wife respond. He looked up at her; her head was back and her eyes were closed, and he stopped sucking until she looked at him.
“You sure you don’t want anyone else?”
“Not tonight,” she said, “just you.” She caressed his face, then moved her hand to the side of his head, gripping the hair. “I don’t want to talk about anyone else, or even think about it. I only want you, and me. I want US, together, tonight.”
“Damn, Ronnie, I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, “now get back to work, Walter.” She only used his full name when she was angry or aroused, and she wasn’t acting angry.
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her, and returned to her breasts, licking and nibbling her fleshy globes, and settling on a nipple to suck, and teasing it with his tongue before switching to the other one. He felt her body respond, her hips pulsing up into his as he knelt above her, her crotch meeting his thigh and rubbing herself against him. She began moaning and pulled his head into her, burying his face in her breast.
“Suck my nipples, like that, yeah,” she murmured, “it makes my pussy so wet.” Her throaty whisper made her urging steamier, and he sucked hard, biting a little with his teeth. She squirmed against his leg, and grunted, tugging his erection through his pants. He felt her hands fumbling at his belt, and pulled away from her tits to open them, pushing them down past his hips with his briefs. He shuffled them off his legs in a flurry as her hand wrapped around his exposed shaft.
“Yeah, that’s what I need,” she cooed. “I need my man’s hard dick inside me.” He felt her tugging urgently, and dropped a hand between her legs, cupping her mound, and applying pressure, feeling the heat emanating from her; she humped against his palm. “Fuck, yeah,” she muttered, and grunted as her hips moved. “I need it now.”
“What’s the rush, baby?” He asked as he tweaked her nipples. “We have all night.” He pulled his hand from the juncture of her legs, leaving her humping the air and groaning in frustration at the sudden lack of stimulation, until his hands went to her pants and worked them open. She lifted her hips and helped him pull them off. Walt ended up kneeling at her feet, admiring her prone naked body, his cock hard as a rock, jutting proudly. She looked at him, and spread her legs, one hand dropping to her shaved pussy and playing between her wet lips.
“Fuck, I need it now!” she hissed.
“You don’t want to suck me first?”
“Hell no, I need it inside me, please, fuck me!”
He grinned at her, holding his position, and stroked his cock. “But you will suck my dick?”
“Yes, later, please, I need to get fucked, hard, now; stop teasing me.”
He watched her fingers spread her juices up to the top of her slit and play with her clit. “M-mm, that’s nice,” he admired, “but first …” He leaned down, slipping his knees off the couch to kneel on the floor, and dipped his head between her legs, feeling the heat and moisture from her as he closed the distance, inhaling the delicate scent of her arousal. And then his tongue was on her, and her body jumped at the contact.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” she barked, and her hands were on his head, her hips lifting to meet his tongue as he tantalized her labia, licking delicately up the center of her, feeling the lips part and the slick liquid spill out onto his tongue. He swallowed, tasting her; put his hands behind her thighs, opening her for his mouth, lifting her pussy up to his face. He teased the outer lips, up one side and down the other, avoiding her clit, then gently sucking her lips into his mouth, tasting her. She pushed her hips, trying to focus his attention, but he avoided her clit until she pressed on his head, and then attacked it as she cried out.
“Oh, yes, right there,” he heard, but his attention was on her hard button, and he danced his tongue around it, stroking the side next to it, then licking it directly, and sucking on it.
“Fuck, suck my clit, you bastard, you make me wait so long, you fucking tease,” she babbled, “fucking make me cum, make me cum in your mouth!” He redoubled his efforts, and slipped a hand from her leg to her pussy, beneath his chin, slipping two fingers easily inside her, and stroking her hot tunnel as he licked. Her cries escalated, not words anymore, just sounds and grunts and yips as he found her g-spot and stroked it firmly while he tortured her clit with his lips and tongue. She was humping his face now, trying to get herself off in his mouth, and he was elated at the speed she was approaching her first orgasm. The excitement spurred him, and he circled his lips on her hard button, teasing the tip with his tongue as he fingered her, and then she exploded, crying out her delight as her orgasm ripped through her. Her thighs closed together to lock his head in place, and he pulled back the pressure on her clit, stroking lightly as she rode the lightning, screaming and moaning, until her legs relaxed and her hips fell back down to the couch, pulling herself away from his mouth.
He looked up at her face, but her eyes were still closed, her expression that dreamy, tight, semi-grin that signaled the aftershocks she was enjoying, and his cock responded to the sight, twitching and gaining additional rigidity. He was so hard he thought he would burst. He moved his way up her body to hover over her face, and waited for her to open her eyes. When she did he was looking down at her, smiling.
“You know, no matter how many times I see it, it’s like the first time.”
“What?” Her breath was still deep, and her face was flushed and bright, her skin glistening
“Watching you cum. Seeing you lose yourself like that.” He smirked. “It never fails to turn me on. Every time is like seeing it for the first time.” She pulled his face down and smothered him into a wet, passionate kiss, licking her own juices off his lips and face, moaning with desire. When she released him he saw her eyes glazed and wide as she licked her lips.
“You taste like pussy,” she smiled, her arms hung across his shoulders, his face inches from her.
“Damn you, woman, you say the hottest things!”
“That gets you excited?”
“When you enjoy tasting yourself on my mouth?” He lowered his hips, pressing his hardness into her stomach. “What do you think?”
“I think I need what you’re packing, mister.” She kissed him again. “Why don’t you fill my pussy, and then let me taste myself on your cock?”
“You dirty, nasty girl,” he smirked, and angled himself to press his cockhead between her open thighs, brushing at her shaved lips. “You want this?” he asked.
She reached between them and guided his cockhead between her labia, finding her hole, and pushed her hips up to meet his as he lowered his body, his cock slipping halfway into her steaming depths. His groan matched hers as he penetrated her, and he watched her face flush. “Oh, yeah,” she whispered, “that’s what I need; fuck my cunt with your hard cock!”
“It’s hard for your wet pussy!”
“Yeah, fuck me good,” she muttered, pulsing her hips up to take more of him. He pulled back as she pulled up, then drove his full length inside her. She sighed heavily as he felt himself buried in her liquid heat, feeling his cock touch the back of her channel as she angled to meet him. He pressed his pubic bone into hers, feeling his erection brushing against the nub of her cervix.
“Fuck, I love you, I love your pussy. My cock loves your hot cunt!”
“Yeah, give it to me,” she hissed at him, her eyes burning with need, her hands gripping his shoulders as he drew back and thrust into her. “Get your dick wet from my pussy and stick in it my mouth!”
He groaned his response, and fucked her harder, taking slow strokes out and plunging back in hard. He raised himself onto his knees and looked between her spread legs to watch his cock slip in and out between her swollen labia, her pussy red and welcoming. He pushed her knees to her chest and slammed his cock into her, deeper now with her hips lifted up. Then he pulled put and scooted to her head, straddling her shoulders.
“Take it, you dirty girl, suck yourself off my cock.” Her eyes twinkled at his as he watched her mouth open for him, his cock head dangling above her face, brushing her lips, and then saw her tongue emerge, flat and wide, and she craned her neck to lick him from his balls to the head, before wrapping her lips around the head. She sucked him briefly, moaning with her mouth closed around his cock head, then pushed up to take all she could fit. He groaned at her as he felt her tongue on the underside of his shaft while she slurped her juices off his cock.
“Why do guys like watching girls go down on each other?” Becky asked.
The pretty blonde curled against her husband on the couch in their darkened living room. Her long bare legs were folded underneath her, and she wore a lacy blue nightie, just tight enough to show off her small but firm breasts. Her hand stroked her husband, Doug’s, upper thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants, while his hand brushed distractedly against the curve of her arm. Doug’s eyes were fixed unashamedly at their large TV and the image of two young porn starlets on the screen.
“I don’t know,” Doug replied with a chuckle, “it just looks really hot.”
“I guess,” Becky said, trying to sound dubious despite the warmth growing between her legs.
On the screen, a large-breasted brunette lowered her face between the legs of a perky blonde. The blonde moaned and writhed as the brunette’s tongue lapped furiously at her pussy. The camera looked down the length of the blonde’s body, the brunette’s dark hair a striking contrast to her fair skin, her eyes looking up from between the other woman’s legs. Becky felt her nipples hardening and warmth spreading between her legs. Her hips rocked slightly. She thought vaguely that the brunette’s hair should be curly and her eyes shockingly blue.
“So,” Doug asked his wife in a husky voice, “did you ever eat pussy?”
“What?!” Becky jumped slightly, then smiled vaguely at her husband, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Well,” Doug said, cupping his wife’s breast, “they say lots of women experiment in college…”
Becky flushed, images of dark curly hair, bright blue eyes and full round breasts briefly flooding up from her memory.
“Would that turn you on?” Becky asked, trying to regain her equilibrium. “The thought of your wife in bed with a hot college coed?”
“Fuck yeah,” Doug grinned at her.
Becky slid her hand up Doug’s thigh, cupping the hard bulge between his legs.
“Oooo,” she purred, “I guess it does turn you on.”
“Yeah.” Doug squeezed her breast. “Did you?”
“Did I?” Becky sighed, pulling his sweats down far enough to free his engorged dick. “What do you think… me with another woman… in the shower… naked… soapy… wet!”
Doug groaned and Becky slid off the couch, sinking to her knees between his legs.
“Our hands caressing each other’s firm, young college breasts,” Becky breathed, lowering her head until her lips nearly brushed his tip.
Doug stared down at his wife, his hands resting on her shoulders.
“Me kneeling in front of her,” Becky purred. “Licking her…”
Becky’s tongue flicked up the length of Doug’s hard shaft.
Becky’s mouth sank down, swallowing him deep. Slowly, sensuously, she moved her head up and down on her husband’s hard shaft. Doug groaned desperately. His hands tangled in her hair and he fought against the urge to grab her head and force it down deeper and harder.
Becky’s tongue swirled around Doug’s dick. She lapped wildly at the head, then took him again deep into her mouth. She bobbed her head passionately. Her hands slid down between her own thighs, fingers flickering madly over her desperate clit. She moaned, muffled around her husband’s cock. Doug gave a guttural groan in reply, his hips rocking as he thrust into his wife’s face.
Suddenly, Becky pulled her mouth off his shaft. Doug gasped as Becky leap to her feet.
“Fuck me,” she cried, her voice thick with lust. “I want you in me, right now.”
Tugging franticly, Becky pulled her nightie up over her head and tossed it aside. Doug reached out to her, but she planted her hands firmly on his shoulders and pushed him back down. Throwing her legs around his hips, she sank down over him.
Doug looked startled at his wife’s sudden, wild passion. He simply stared, amazed, as she seized his dick and lined it up between her legs. She lowered herself slightly, the tip of his shaft pressing against her wetness. Then she drove herself down, forcefully impaling herself on his hard member. They both cried out together at the impact of their bodies.
“Fuck me,” Becky growled, grinding her hips against him. “Fuck me!”
Doug grabbed her hips and started to thrust, ragged and unfocused at first but quickly finding his rhythm. Becky bounced and grunted with each thrust, her small breasts bouncing.
“Yes… yes… fuck me,” she moaned. “Yes… fuck me… fill me…”
“Oh God,” Doug groaned, then suddenly, “Did you?”
“Fuck… did I?… what?” Becky grunted.
“Eat pussy,” Doug growled as he drove himself into his wife. “Did you… eat… pussy?”
“YES!” Becky shouted, “YES… I ATE… HER PUSSY!”
Doug stopped suddenly, staring. Becky, wild, out of control and oblivious to her husband’s shocked expression, continued to bounce passionately on his dick.
“I ate her pussy,” Becky moaned, “I sucked… on her… big tits… oh god… I slapped… her gorgeous… ass… I came… on her… uuugghhh… face… I ate…. I ate… I ATE HER PUSSY! OOOHHH GODS! YES… YES… YES!”
Becky spasmed, her entire body bending back in a quivering arch as the most immense orgasm Doug had ever witnessed overwhelmed her. Doug shuddered under her, his mind swimming while his body thrust and jerked involuntarily. He grunted and felt a torrent of semen rush out of him. His eyes closed as his own orgasm washed away his shock.
Slowly, Becky sank into Doug’s arms, and for a while they sat, joined together on the couch. Eventually, Becky lifted herself off her husband’s shrinking shaft and curled against him, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Wow,” Doug said after a time.
Becky made a tiny, uncertain noise into his shoulder.
“That was… wow,” Doug said again.
“Ummm” Becky said, lifting her head slightly. She had no idea what might happen. She had never told him about some of things that had happened in college. Never told him about… her… or any of the things that had happened with her. What will he think of me, she wondered.
“Really?” he said finally.
“Yes,” Becky whispered weakly, her face red. “It was in college…”
“What was her name?” Doug asked suddenly.
Becky stared for a moment.
“Liz,” she said after a long pause. “Her name was Liz.”
“Thank you, Liz,” Doug said with a grin.
He kissed his wife and rose quickly, heading to the bathroom to clean himself up.
Much later that night, while Doug lay sleeping, Becky sat quietly at their computer, staring at the tiny pictures on the blue and white web page. One tiny picture in particular… the same curly brown hair, the same bright blue eyes…
Slowly, wondering where it might lead, she clicked on the icon. “Send Friend Request.”