This story was inspired by a lengthy letter that appeared long ago in Xaviera Hollander's column in "Penthouse" magazine. MATCH MAKER by C. Lakewood Up until recently, my life had been fairly conventional. I'd partied some in college -- nothing too wild, though -- and majored in Education. After graduating, I taught for 9 years (getting married along the way, at 26), but finally realized I was just burned out on teaching. Fortunately, I had a nice alternative. So here I was at age 32, a stay-at-home, suburban housewife. (No kids -- my husband's infertile -- but that's fine...I've had my fill of youngsters. Chris teaches high school English and is much more suited to it than I ever was. I'd come to think of him as an "okay" husband -- nice, comfortable, but often rather inadequate.) And then I discovered Chris's secret, and things changed. It was a rainy morning in late April, and I'd decided to spend the whole day in spring cleaning. I'd made pretty good start by early afternoon, when I decided to organize a thick sheaf of recipes and began looking around for a 3-ring binder to use for the purpose. Poking about in Chris's "office," I found a couple that would be perfect. Each was less than half full, so all I had to do was to consolidate the contents. And then I discovered that one of the binders contained page after page of letters-to-the-editor photocopied from various men's magazines. Each one was dated. A quick riffle through the book showed me that the collection spanned years, and, while the sources may have been varied, the theme was consistent. Some of the letters were well-written and subtle; some were crude; most were blatantly graphic. They used different terms -- "sharing," "wife-watching," "cuckoldry," "open marriage," "spreading it around," etc. -- but it all added up to the same thing. I was wondering if Chris could really entertain such fantasies...about me! The very first letter in the binder was protected by a high-quality, clear plastic sleeve, suggesting that it was handled much more than the rest and, therefore, probably a favorite of Chris's. Intrigued, I sat down at the desk and began to read it with growing interest. ----- LETTER OF THE MONTH ----- Rachel and I are in our late-30s. Although it was clear she'd not exactly been a nun before we were married, she still claims that I'm the only man she'll ever need. I always just smile and nod, as though I believe her. Frankly, I never really cared much about her past, because, before I got married, I'd screwed around with dozens of women. But, there came a time when, after 7 years of "wedded bliss," I had to face the fact that my life had gotten pretty dull. I knew that some of our friends were into swinging and swapping, and I suggested that we try it, too, as an experiment. But she refused. And every time I'd bring it up, she'd trot out the same old lame excuses, practically word-for-word: "yada, yada...respectable married woman...yada, yada...gossiping friends...yada, yada...dangerous strangers...yada, yada...marriage vows...yada, yada...jealousy...yada, yada, yada...." It was damned tiresome. Since I couldn't persuade her to go along with the idea, I decided to see if maybe I could ease her into it, by setting up some "situations" that would seem accidental. The first time was almost 6 years ago, and involved an out-of-town salesman I met at work and went out for a drink with afterward. Glen was a big, beefy guy, with plenty of energy, but not real bright. I spun him a line of bull that Rachel was a horny, cock-teasing slut, but insisted on pretending she wasn't. I told him she needed to play it all prim and proper...needed to be strong-armed by a real man who wouldn't take no for an answer.... He was more than ready to play "the game." When we got to my house, I introduced Glen to my wife as an old army buddy who was just passing through town. Of course, we had to celebrate with drinks before and after dinner. With the drinks, there was conversation and laughs and slow dancing.... At one point, returning after taking a piss, I heard some intriguing, muffled sounds and crept softly up so I could do some listening (and peeking). They were on the couch, sitting very close. Her skirt was halfway to her waist, and Glen was nuzzling her neck. I backed up, made some noise, and gave her a moment to recover (which she did). Thinking that things might develop favorably (but not with me around), I told them that I had just gotten an emergency call from work on my cell phone and needed to go straighten things out. I said that it shouldn't take long -- an hour or so.... My wife suggested that Glen should go along, but I simply ignored her and dashed off. I actually waited around the corner for nearly 2 hours. When I got back home, I found them sitting and chatting, quite sedately. I wondered if anything had happened, and it didn't look very promising -- until I noticed that Rachel, who had been wearing pantyhose, was now bare-legged. Later, when I drove the guy back to his motel, he told me that she had put up some resistance, for a while, turning him on more and more, getting him into her game. He said that, in the end, he had to pin her down and rip off her panties and pantyhose. Then, after fucking her, he stripped her naked and told her she couldn't have her clothes back until she gave him a long, loving blow job. He said she was pretty good at it, too...sucked him completely dry...and swallowed the whole load. Driving back home, I tried to imagine what Rachel's reaction was going to be -- but she completely surprised me by just acting as though nothing at all had happened. I asked a few casual questions, but never learned anything much. (And, of course, I didn't want to give myself away.) * * * * * * * Things went back to normal then, for almost four months, until we went on vacation to Southern California. We hooked up with two other married couples and three Japanese businessmen, who were all staying in the same motel. During the first two or three days, we mainly did touristy things, but we always spent several hours a day at the beach. Early on, I managed to sabotage Rachel's rather conservative swim suit, rendering it unwearable. To replace it, I bought her a really skimpy white bikini made by an Aussie firm, Wicked Weasel. The other guys had seemed to enjoy watching her strut about in her old suit, so I figured this one would really generate interest. Apparently so did Rachel, because, though she protested that that bikini was "absolutely obscene," her objections didn't prevent her from wearing it. On Friday, one of the other guys had a birthday, and the nine of us drank and danced and chatted until the bar closed. Tamura, the senior Jap, invited us to go back to his cabin and continue the party there. Tamura (or "Tam") had been coming on to Rachel for a couple of days and had been particularly attentive all evening, so I had hopes of something developing -- particularly since we were all tipsy, to varying degrees. As it happened, there was a some general groping for a while (all pretty PG stuff), but eventually things began to wind down, instead of heating up. Rachel went to the bathroom, and, almost immediately, the party dissolved. Several people wanted to go out and get something to eat, and some others (mostly the women) just wanted to turn in. Moments later, Tam and I were the only ones left (besides Rachel, who was still in the john). Seizing the opportunity, I told Tam that I was feeling totally beat and was going back to my cabin and hit the sack. I asked him to let Rachel know. Once outside, of course, I scurried around to the side of the cabin and took up a great position from which I could peer through a partially open window. I'd be able to see and hear everything! (I just hoped there'd be something good to see and hear.) I didn't have to wait long. Rachel came out of the bathroom and seemed quite surprised to find that everyone but Tam was gone. He told her that I had just gone for ice. Then he suavely locked the door. Rachel's breathing got heavier, but she didn't say anything...even when he started kissing her. She accepted that passively until he pulled down the zipper on the back of her cocktail dress. At this point, she pulled away, but he merely reached out and gave her a push that sent her sprawling backward onto the bed. He fell on top of her. As she was struggling (rather feebly) under him, he didn't seem to have much difficulty in working her bra down off her tits, or in rucking up her dress and pulling her panties down to below her knees. After a few minutes' writhing about, he heaved himself up and poured two drinks. Meanwhile, my wife was straightening herself up some -- pulled up her panties and adjusted her bra -- but she didn't zip up, I noticed, and she readily suspended her repairs to accept the drink he offered. She sipped the drink and watched as he downed his and then kicked off his sandals, tossed his shirt away, and dropped his Bermudas, revealing a fairly impressive, fully erect cock. (It was about the same length as mine, but easily twice as thick.) He rolled Rachel over onto her stomach, pulled her dress right off her, unhooked her bra and got rid of that, too, and then practically ripped off her panties. She was putting up a struggle, of sorts, but it seemed pretty insincere to me. He held both her hands down, above her head, with his left hand and used his right to insert his cock into her. (It looked like she was so juicy already that he didn't need any artificial lube at all.) This was turning into one terrific show! (I wished I'd brought a camera.) Tam continued to fuck her for a good 15 minutes, maybe more, bareback, until he came inside her, grunting in Japanese. He finally climbed off her and went into the bathroom to wash his cock. My wife just lay there, gasping and panting, her legs spread wide, her wrists still crossed above her head. He made a call on his cell phone, came back into the bedroom, and walked over to the bed. As he stood there, looking down at my wife, she raised up, took hold of his soft prick, smiled, and popped it into her mouth. She began to suck him off, first slowly and lovingly, and then with more and more abandon. After about 5 minutes, he was hard again. He climbed back on top of her, and she guided his cock back into her already cum-filled cunt. He began fucking her again, more slowly this time, but with heavy, powerful strokes. After a while, Tam rolled over onto his back, so that Rachel was on top. She had to do the work, then -- and she didn't seem a bit reluctant! They'd been screwing for 10 minutes or so, when the door opened and the other two Japs entered. Rachel was obviously startled to see them...but she kept right on riding Tam, never missing a beat. The two newcomers, whom most of us tended to call "Itchy" and "Scratchy," were younger than Tam and considerably inferior in status. But they had obviously been prepped. They wasted no time in stripping out of their clothes. (Itchy was short and thick-set, with a pot belly and a medium, uncircumsized cock. Scratchy was somewhat taller and much skinnier, with a prick to match.) They lay down on either side of Tam and Rachel and began fondling my wife, who continued to toil away. When Tam finally orgasmed again, the players re-arranged themselves. Tam slid off the bed, and Itchy crawled underneath Rachel so that she could suck on his cock, while Scratchy knelt behind her and fucked her brimming cunt for a few strokes. Then he pulled out and aimed his now-slippery cock...right at her virgin asshole! I'd wanted to butt-fuck her for years, but she'd always refused. Now, however, she didn't even seem to notice, as she was concentrating on sucking off Itchy. Rachel double-holed! And me without a camera! Meanwhile, Tam, after resting up a bit, again washed off his cock, then watched the happy threesome for a moment, before waking up and hauling out his own camera and recording the scene. How in hell could I get some of those pictures? (I never did.) Scratchy had remarkably good control, and it looked like Rachel was deliberately drawing things out with Itchy, because the three of them were going at it vigorously for a good 20 minutes before finally collapsing in an exhausted heap. But only a few minutes later, Rachel struggled to her feet and proceeded to parade around the room, butt-naked. At length, she asked if any of the three wanted to have another go, but they were all completely drained. She shrugged and started picking up her clothes. I reluctantly took that opportunity to race back to our cabin, undress, and scramble into bed. When Rachel arrived, I was pretending to be asleep. She stripped and, without bothering to shower, slid into bed beside me. She was soon asleep. I resisted the impulse to make love to her well-fucked body. As much as I wanted her at that moment, I didn't want to risk letting the cat out of the bag. In the morning she asked me what had happened to me. I merely replied that I'd told Tam that I was coming back here and asked him to tell her that she could stay behind and party some more if she wanted. She nodded and dropped the subject. That day, our last, she complained of feeling "off" and said she was going to stay in bed. I met with the others for brunch and some final sight-seeing, which took up most of the day. Most of the others were there, at least, though I did notice that Tam was absent. (Hmmm....) * * * * * I waited a couple of weeks to let the experience marinate a bit, and then I again brought up the idea of swinging. But, just as before, she wouldn't even discuss it. I just couldn't figure it out. I knew she had damn few inhibitions about screwing other guys and would put up only a token resistance when they came on to her...as long as I wasn't around.... In considering the situation, though, I realized how much I was enjoying watching her play around, so I forgot about trying to get her to swap and, instead, just concentrated on setting up situations for her. I've kept a notebook with the date, time, place, and other details of each "match" I've set up -- with the names, numbers, and descriptions (whenever possible) of the guys she serviced. In 67 months, I've set up 31 different arrangements, involving at least 87 different men. Each differed in details, and some were quite unique. She has been fucked in motels, in parking lots, in the back rooms of bars. She has spent a week in a rustic cabin with 4 Latinos, a weekend with a pair of truckers (and their various buddies), and 24 hours in a black frat house with a dozen horny young studs. (Having learned my lesson from before, I'd try to document the events on film -- or even on tape -- if the situation allowed it.) The best occasion of all was when I took her to an outdoor festival/rock concert during Spring Break. I made sure we were "accidentally" separated and then described her to a couple of college boys, telling them the usual story: that she was a real cock-tease, hot to trot but always having to play a game...to pretend she's all prim and proper -- even a bit of a bitch -- and to have to be forced into putting out by some real men who wouldn't take any of her shit. They were just dumb enough or drunk enough or stoned enough -- or horny enough -- to believe me. Without much ado, four of them ambushed Rachel, surrounding her and hustling her off to a secluded area, with me discreetly trailing along behind. She put up her usual token protest, but they just ignored her and got right down to business, pushing her to the ground and tearing off her clothes. I watched -- for over 3 hours -- while nine different guys took turns, with five of the nine screwing her a second time, and two even coming back for thirds, a total of 16 loads. (According to my notes, she took 6 in her cunt, 8 down her throat, and two up her ass.) I managed to take 70 photographs. When they'd finished with her, they just left her there -- with nothing...naked, bleary, and cum-stained. I guess the word must have spread, though, because pretty soon another bunch of college guys swooped in and took her off to wherever. (I lost track of them in the crowd.) I searched around a little bit, but had no luck. I left, got a late lunch/early dinner, checked our camper, and returned to the festival area about 5:00. Finally, I reported her missing to the police and the fair security, but nobody seemed too concerned, telling me that it's very easy to get lost in the sort of crowds they'd had. I just nodded and gave them her description (though I didn't tell them that the last time I'd seen her, she was butt-naked and headed for Round 2 of a gang-bang. After looking around the fairgrounds some more on my own, I checked a few bars, had a tenderloin sandwich and a couple of beers, and returned to the camper about 10:00. I listened to music for a while -- Golden Oldies -- and then turned in. I must have been sleeping very lightly, because a car pulling up outside woke me. It was about 3:20 in the morning. Shortly, the door opened, and, as I pretended to be asleep, I heard Rachel thank somebody for the lift. I glimpsed her, outlined in the dim light from outside; she was still naked. The guy (who sounded like sort of a geek) reminded her of her "promise." After warning him to be quiet, she kneeled down right there and gave him a long, sloppy blow job. Afterward, breathing heavily, he thanked her politely and left. She just crawled into bed and passed out. She stank of sweat, weed, beer, and cum. When I woke up next morning, she was already up and showered, sipping coffee. She looked a little tired still, but otherwise quite normal. I guess I'll never know how many guys she got it on with that time, but it could have been three dozen -- or more. I still set up situations for guys to screw her, but I steer clear of mass encounters like that festival and now I average only 3 or 4 men per episode. I think she has probably figured out that I'm responsible for fixing up these "dates," but she's never once even mentioned any of it to me. She certainly must suspect that I love it...and might well be watching her. And, if I were watching, she knows that I'm aware of how much SHE loves it, too. -- Match Maker ****************************** A truly amazing letter! I sat there for a while, letting my temperature and respiration gradually return to normal. It took me a couple of moments to realize that I'd been massaging my pussy right through my shorts and panties...and that the latter were embarrassingly soggy. The infidelity, the promiscuity, the interracial, intergenerational, semi-nonconsensual group sex, the voyeurism and exhibitionism...even the hypocritical pretense...I found it all powerfully exciting. God help me! Was I a pervert? Well, I guess not, considering what passes for mainstream these days.... I also wondered, like the letter writer, why Rachel wouldn't talk about it at all...even to hint. I'm not sure I could be so discreet, under those circumstances. But that then got me thinking about Chris and me. Obviously, judging from the quantity of those letters -- and the consistency of their theme, this was an important fantasy for Chris. But did he ever want to take it beyond fantasy? Would he really want to turn me into a promiscuous hypocrite slut like Rachel? Has he ever tried to "set up" one of these "occasions" for me -- but it fell through, and I was just too oblivious to notice? Well.... There was that weird Halloween party; then visiting the circus; the cruise; the trip to Vegas; the Renaissance Fair.... No, that was just silly, absurd even. I was becoming delusional. And yet.... Food for thought. In the end, I made sure that the binder and its contents were exactly as before. And I decided just to act as if I'd never seen it...to continue being the apparently oblivious housewife.... Of course, we had made plans to attend that big convention in San Diego in mid-June. It would be packed with people...with men. I wondered if Chris had made any plans he hadn't shared with me. And I wondered how good I might be at improvization. My hand went back to my pussy.