Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
 This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are 
under 18- 21 in some localities  If you are underage you must leave 
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the 
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange 
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this 
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral 
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. 
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be 
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we 
can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, 
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.


	Ron and Tom (ron&tom.txt) Even if you don't know Tom it's a
good bet he's out there.  Think about that next time you're with your
significant other. M/F, oral, anal

			Ron and Tom

	I'm telling this story because I know everyone's part in it. My
name is Jenny and I'm the one all the fuss is over.
	I'm married to Ron. I would have said happily married before
all this stuff came up. I think both of them are acting like goofs, but I'm
not supposed to be telling my story, I'm supposed to be telling theirs.
So I guess I have to keep my comments to a minimum.
	Just so you know- my story is a lot different than the one
I'm telling.
	Tom wasn't anyone special in high school. He says I went out
with him- and that's possible, but I don't remember. He was always
hanging around- you know- just good old Tom.
	I'm not sure what changed, but in my early twenties, I thought
I had found a diamond in the rough in Tom. All of a sudden he was
quite nice to see and go out with and fuck.
	Especially fuck. I hadn't been a nun in high school, but I was
sure that sex was a sacred sacrament and shared it sparingly with only
the guys that I was *sure* were going to love me forever. I loosened
up a bit after school, but I still hadn't shaken off all the cautionary tales
they tell girls.
	Tom was a revelation. When I finally let him fuck me, it was 
a totally new activity. No gushy deep breathing and serious looks, no
careful (timid?) touching and the a three-ring circus preparing for
THE ACT!!!. With Tom it was more like a game of naked Twister,
emphasis on game.
	He played around naked. He didn't think it was a big thing to
break the mood and do something funny. He came right back and went
on like this was normal when people fucked. He made me wonder if
fucking was as deadly serious as I had always thought.
	For his part, I was that fantasy of the girl finally coming to her
senses and seeing the real deal was right under her nose. He was 
encouraged by my eagerness (and I was eager) and a little bit smug that
I was that taken with him. 
	It was good- no lie. Tom made me cum every time. That was 
because Tom wasn't done until I had. Before Tom I had had a love-hate
relationship with cumming. I loved it because- face it- it's about the 
greatest feeling there is. The hate came in because it seemed that 
cumming was a signal for all hell to break loose.
	Either I hadn't before and now the guy felt all betrayed or they felt
pressure. They wanted to know if I really came or was faking it. They
wanted to know how good it was for me. They wanted praise.
	Whatever the specific, cumming set off the anxeities and I didn't
want to deal with it. Nothing ruins an orgasm like an autopsy right after.
	Tom believed me when I said I came and wasn't pissed when I 
admitted I hadn't. He'd just put his face between my legs and lick and
suck until I did come off. Even more usually, Tom would eat me until I
came before he fucked me.
	And he could make me cum while he was fucking me too. It was
good, better than it had ever been. I had never liked blowing guys before,
but I blew Tom. I didn't mind because Tom made me cum so much. It
wasn't like he was taking advantage of me.
	And Tom taught me a lot about giving head. I guess the other guys
were afraid to criticize- maybe because I was such a bitch about it in the first
place, but Tom was patient and made suggestions. He made me feel proud
of the way I could suck cock. He made me like showing off my talent for
cocksucking. 
	He was a great lover. I could blow him and he would eat me until
he was ready to fuck. He would eat me and then fuck me until I came and
I would blow him. We had great sex, but the rest of the relationship was
kind of lame. It was, except for fucking, a lot like high school.
	Then I met Ron. He was the total opposite of Tom in every way.
I appreciated his determination and drive and particularly his decisiveness.
I only missed Tom when Ron was fucking me. Ron was the opposite of
Tom in the sack too.
	The good point was that Ron was eternally grateful when I sucked 
his cock. He seemed to think a blow job was a strange and precious gift
and couldn't believe that I liked sucking his cock.
	The bad point was it took me a year to make him believe that it
wouldn't kill him to go down on me too. In between those poles, he was
an adequate, if unimaginative lover. I would say I came more than half the
time fucking Ron. 
	But that was down a bunch from Tom, with whom I was 100%.
	During the day, Ron was steady, reliable and a great provider. He
was much better than Tom. I had to remember that as I lay under his
mechanical thrusting night after night. You have to pick your priorities.
	I had made my choice and I was working on making it the best
choice possible. I mentioned that Ron would go down on me after about 
a year, and he was getting positively radical with positions before that. I
was frequently on top and a few times he gave in guiltily to the perversion
of fucking me doggy style.
	He was moving in the right direction and I was satisfied. I wasn't
the one that started the trouble. I only made a casual comment about Tom
in the past. Ron was the one that developed the obsessive voyeurism on
my past. 
	He started, interestingly enough, with a brand new- and to me
very hot- vocalizing when we fucked.
	"Is this the way Tom rammed it in you? Is this the way you like it?
You being Tom-fucked now?" Ron would grunt as he was driving into me
as hard and deep as he could.
	I thought it was hot. I kept begging him to fuck me. I saw it as a
bright sign on the horizon. Then he started asking me to tell him about
fucking Tom.
	This was not a prurient curiosity. He wasn't asking to be aroused
by the description. He wanted to know how much use *his* pussy had had.
I was offended for several reasons by his attitude.
	Ron was the one that found Tom. Let's get together and talk 
about fucking Jenny? I have no wild guess what Ron thought he would
accomplish. I'm betting it wasn't what did come from it.
	Lackadasiacal and immature Tom may have been, but slow he
wasn't. He saw through Ron and, more dangerously, located me.
	I had stopped seeing him rather abrubtly a while after meeting Ron.
I thought a clean break would be best- particularly for me. Cold turkey 
was the only way I would kick the habit of fucking Tom.
	He had no way of finding me. He didn't know Ron's and now
 my last name. We had moved to a different suburb. But Ron put Tom back
on my trail with his obsession about meeting my old lover.
	I was as resolute as I could be. I'm not saying that was a lot, but
it was as much as I could muster since it was Ron's fault that Tom had
blundered back into my life. I held out for weeks.
	Then Tom hit the winning buttons. I did feel I had been cowardly
in the way I dropped Tom. I was a sucker for his suggestion that we get
togther- just for coffee- to talk it out. He said we needed to tie up the
loose ends.
	A half hour later he was running his hand up my thigh, stirring
memories. I resisted. I was a married woman and Ron was my chosen.
	Forty-five minutes later Tom had me in a bear hug and was
demanding I deny that I was aroused. All he wanted- he said- was for me
to look him in the eye and tell him the thrill was gone.
	An hour and fifteen minutes later (it took ten minutes to get to
my house) my legs were wrapped around Tom's back as he fucked me
long and hard in the foyer. The thrill wasn't gone. I was gushing wet when
he pulled off my panties just inside the door and I started cumming almost
immediately when he put his dick in me.
	It was sex like I hadn't had since the last time I fucked Tom. I
wanted to stop him. It was one mistake and I wanted it to end there, 
but I couldn't help myself. Tom ignored my feeble rejections and kept
after me. I wasn't strong enough to keep him off.
	He fingered my pussy until I melted and the next thing I knew,
I was laying naked in my own bed, screaming as Tom made me cum
again and again on his tongue. Then he fucked me again.
	He fucked me all over the bedroom, on the bed, over the bed,
leaning over my dressing table, hanging in the closet and then we fucked
into the bathroom where I begged to surrender and ended my first
adulterous liason my kneeling in front of him as he sat on the toilet and
sucked his cock until he filled my mouth with his seed.
	I began to resent Ron. I hardly came at all while he was laying
on me thrusting regularly into me. I wasn't trying very hard to be excited.
I was too busy crossly comparing his vanilla sex with Tom's great fucking.
	It was worse when Ron didn't seem to even notice my subtle
resentment. He grunted happily, shot off in me and then kissed me like
he always did. It was like he didn't care if I was happy or not.
	I began to think Ron deserved to have me fuck around on him.
If he didn't even notice, then it served him right. It gave me permission
to stop feeling guilty about meeting Tom. It took away all resistance
to Tom's visits.
	Soon I was growing more beligerant about my entitlement. I
deserved to have great sex. If I wasn't getting it at home, then I had to 
seek it elsewhere and I was still the damaged party. I deserved to have
great sex. I had a right to punish Ron for not giving me what I needed.
	I was the aggressor, at least I was the one that brought it up. I
guess I could say Tom mentioned it first, and he did, a couple of times back
when we were fucking. That's where I got the idea. I never would have
thought of it on my own.
	But it was perfect- at least philosophically. It wasn't like I was
giving away something Ron felt very possessive about. He'd never think
of it either. And I would always know that there were ways to fuck me
that Ron was never going to guess, much less have a chance at.
	I wanted Tom to fuck my virgin ass. That would be Ron's
punishment for being boring in bed. I had asked around about it when
Tom first brought up the idea and I was surprised how many people 
knew all about it. It seems it wasn't all that odd anymore.
	So it was partly a burning curiosity to find out what so many of
my friends already seemed to know and partly a revenge on Ron. Tom
hesitated when I asked him if he wanted to fuck me in the ass. Probably
that was because I told him it'd be my first time.
	He validated my idea that it would be an extra special kind of
cheating by balking at taking my anal cherry.
	"So you want me to lose it to some guy in a bar- and then you'll
fuck me in the ass?" I asked him.
	He agreed that sounded stupid and, once over his twinge of
conscience, admitted that the idea of fucking me in the ass- in my
virgin ass really turned him on. But he had never, personally, ever
actually talked a girl- or woman- into letting him fuck her in the ass.
So we were a confederation of virgins on this one.
	I only thought I would die two or three times when we did it.
None of them was that spine-tingling pop of pain and intrusion when
Tom first got the head of his cock past my sphincter. One of them
came when he was about half-way up my ass and I realized how much
there was left. When I found out how much there was, I had another.
But all in all it turned out to be an interesting and intruguing experience.
	Tom tortured me into some bastard relation of an orgasm while
he stuck that big thing in my butt. It was like his fingers wouldn't take
no for an answer as my head tried to put its affairs in order on the
threat of imminent death from the cock in my ass.
	I could actually feel my nipples crawling as his fingers forced me
to cum while I felt like I was being impaled on a fence post. I had the
feeling that if I could relax, it might be an even better experience.
	Tom liked it too, but by common consent, we decided to put
off our next try a little while.
	It was long enough for Tom to pull another of his stupid stunts.
Sure, he back-dated the experience to before I met Ron, but he told
Ron that he had fucked me in the ass. They way I hear it, it came up
casually - you mean you don't fuck her in the ass? Hell, she likes it.
Something like that.
	Men being the murky, slow-thinking beasts that they are, Ron
had a strange reaction. He percolated for a while and then boiled over.
I'll discount the first things he said since he did retract them before I
could hit him with the bedside lamp. After that, his concern was why
I ever was with anyone like Tom in the first place.
	He didn't like Tom so much and was wondering why he wanted
to meet him. He was wondering even harder what I ever saw in him.
	He held that opinion for a full day before he asked me if I ever
fantisized about fucking two guys at the same time. He wasn't going to
explain what he was thinking, but that was hardly necessary.
	I said sure- let him have enough rope to hang himself. I told
him they would have to be two special guys. He never dreamed I was
leading him. I waited patiently for him to suggest himself and Tom.
	I didn't see any chance that it would be pretty, but it wasn't
my idea. The bad possibility for me was not getting fucked at all and
being horny. But that, like anything else that happened, would be Ron's
fault for suggesting it in the first place. There was a good chance I would
at lkeast get fucked good and proper before the fireworks went off.
	And Tom screws up everything again. Fuck you wife? Oh, man!
He sees too many ethical dilemms facing him- which conveniently don't
occur when he's fucking me on the side. It's too odd an intimate for him.
	So Tom starts looking at Ron like Ron is looking at Tom. They
act out like boys and there are several rounds of sniffing and chest banging
in all sorts of male arenas.
	Neither of them is that hot in bed through this either. Testoserone
must cause a quick trigger. And now we're supposed to be working this
out because I tell their story and we'll all see how blameless everybody is
in all of this.
	Except Ron is going to find out how long I'vew been fucking Tom
and some stuff, but I think it's just an excuse. If I know these guys, thy're
not even going to read this. They're going to say: yeah! That's makes it
okay! And we're all going to fuck in a pile.
	Sometime I'll tell you my story. And I'll put in what happen tonight.
	###