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. ###