My Wife, My Neighbour… Oh, and Me
(Cheating Wife, humil, MF, humour)


Warning - Don't read it if you shouldn't. This is erotic fiction 
containing graphical sexual content as outlined in the coding above.

Legal - You can save it, distribute it, destroy it, or eat it, 
providing you don't charge anybody for it. Got it?

Please email me with your comments (good or bad) to: 
mpornwriter@hotmail.com

Hope you like it :)



My Wife, My Neighbour… Oh, And Me
©1998 Mr Pornwriter ( mrpornwriter@hotmail.com )


Michelle lies motionless underneath me while I do my best to push my 
penis further inside her vagina, trying in vain to evoke some degree 
of excitement from my wife. I've been humping her for a good two 
minutes, which isn't bad going for me, and so I'm disappointed to 
look down on a rather bored looking woman to whom I am totally 
devoted.

All right, I know I'm not the best lover in the world. Michelle had 
made that abundantly clear on our honeymoon, three weeks before. What 
really hurt was when she told me on our wedding night, after I had 
embarrassingly ejaculated in my pants before we'd even undressed, 
that she wished she'd "tried me out" before we got married.

It was a pity that we couldn't consummate the marriage that night (I 
had a bit of trouble getting an erection after that), but we did have 
a cracking game of Gin Rummy. It was very thoughtful of someone to 
have left a pack of cards in one of the drawers of the hotel's bridal 
suite.

I'd insisted that we didn't sleep together before the wedding, out of 
respect of my parent's wishes (they are deeply religious). What I 
hadn't told Michelle though, was that I was actually a virgin (I was 
slightly embarrassed about this fact, being twenty-six years old).
We never talked about Michelle's previous experience, though I 
suspected that she had been to bed with at least one or two men. I 
didn't mind that though, I was hopelessly in love.

To be honest, I was very surprised when Michelle agreed to go out 
with me in the first place. I used to see her at our local tennis 
club and tried talking to her on a few occasions without much 
success. It was only after she'd seen me in the car park one day that 
our relationship flourished.

Jumping out of my car, after seeing Michelle strolling towards the 
clubhouse, I'd quickly grabbed my gear off the backseat and locked 
the door to my Mercedes. But before I had a chance to say anything, 
Michelle actually came over and remarked what a nice car it was. We 
began talking and before I knew it, she had practically invited 
herself out on a date. I couldn't believe my luck!

Michelle is a very pretty girl. She's 5'8", two inches taller than I 
am, and at only twenty-one, five years younger. Her figure is 
fantastic. She plays lots of tennis, which helps keep her long legs 
and athletic body in shape. I, on the other hand, although a frequent 
visitor to the tennis club, am not very sports orientated. My co-
ordination is not all that good, and so I am more of a spectator than 
an active participant.

After the first date, which consisted of a rather delightful meal at 
one of the better restaurants in town, I grew totally besotted with 
Michelle. I sent her flowers every day and bought her presents by the 
truckload. I did, after all, want to show her how much I cared. 
Fortunately, my well-paid job, along with my family's money, allows 
me a fairly generous lifestyle, which I wanted to share with 
Michelle. She, by contrast, comes from a rather poorer background, 
but that didn't matter to me. If love conquers all, then I was truly 
defeated.

It was after only two more dates that I asked Michelle to marry me. 
Funnily enough I don't actually remember popping the question. We'd 
had a fair amount to drink that Friday evening and everything was a 
bit of a blur the next morning. Michelle rang me excitedly about ten 
o'clock and asked me if I'd changed my mind. I asked her about what?

"About wanting to marry me, silly", came the reply.

I was stunned into silence for several moments. Had I actually asked 
her to marry me the night before? My head began to pound. I didn't 
want Michelle to think I'd been too drunk to remember and so 
hurriedly made a decision.

"Of course not darling. I meant every word."

After she'd hung up, I took some aspirin and rang my parents to tell 
them the good news. 

And so, after a short engagement, (two weeks, four days to be 
precise), we said our vows.

Three weeks later and I'm making love to my wife on a Saturday 
morning, even though she seems to be rather pre-occupied. It does get 
a tad disconcerting when your wife starts talking about decorating in 
the middle of our lovemaking.

Despite her comments about various different styles of wallpaper for 
the downstairs bathroom, I start to lose control. With a big grunt 
from me, I ejaculate into my wife's vagina and slump on top of her, 
burying my sweating brow into a pillow.

"Have you cum yet?" She asks me in a rather uninterested fashion.

"Err… yes, my dear."

I bring my hand up to my face and press a button on the stopwatch 
function of my watch. Three minutes, thirty-two seconds. Great, 
that's twenty-six seconds faster than my personal best!

"Simon, would you get off me now? You're fat gut is killing me!"

"Oh, sorry my dear."

I quickly pull out my shrinking penis, which has reduced from its 
five inches when fully hard, down to its more normal reduced length 
of about one, and flop down next to Michelle on the bed.

As I lay there trying to regain my breath, the doorbell rings.

"I wonder who that is?" remarks Michelle.

We lie there for a few seconds, until my wife turns her head towards 
me.

"Well? Aren’t you going to answer it?"

Although I love my wife very much, I have come to realise that she is 
a little bit lazy. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing all the 
cooking, but she could offer to help with some of the housework 
occasionally.

I get up off the bed and pull on a dressing gown. The doorbell rings 
again just as I reach the front door. Standing on the porch, dressed 
in jeans and T-shirt, is a man about my age. That's where the 
similarities end though. He's about 6'0", with an athletic, well-
toned, sun-tanned body, and I suppose what women would describe as a 
rather good-looking face.

"Hi, I'm sorry to disturb you… ", He looks down at my rather flushed 
red face, still recovering from my P.B.

"I'm Dan Williams. I've just moved in next door."

He holds out a large hand, which envelops mine as we shake. His firm 
grip leaves my hand rather crushed when he releases it and I gently 
cradle it with the other behind my back, tentatively checking for 
broken bones.

"Simon Taylor. Welcome to the neighbourhood, Mr Williams" I say, 
hoping that he'll now leave so I can close the door and cry out in 
pain.

"I'm still unpacking at the moment and I don't know where my toolbox 
is. I was wondering if I could borrow a screwdriver?"

"Oh, I see. Well I'm not sure if I can help you. I'm not all that 
well equipped you see…"

"You can say that again."

I turn round and see my lovely wife walking down the stairs, wearing 
just a semitransparent night-dress that shows off more than her 
attractive smile which she's beaming at our new neighbour.

As Michelle reaches the bottom of the stairs, the bright sunshine 
streaming in through the open doorway means that the mound of her 
vagina is clearly visible to anyone looking; namely a very happy Dan 
Williams, and a very anxious me.

"Ermm… this is my wife, Mrs Taylor. Michelle, this is Dan Williams, 
our new neighbour."

My wife brushes past me and stands directly in the doorway.

"Nice to meet you Dan. Is your wife with you?"

"Likewise Mrs Taylor, and no, actually I'm not married."

From my sideways view, I can see my wife's nipples pressing against 
the silky fabric of her night-dress and I wish she'd put a dressing 
gown on. I also see her eyes light up, when she hears that our 
neighbour's single. I expect she has some matchmaking in mind with 
one of her friends.

The two of them are standing practically next to each other, and I 
worry about Michelle's revealing neckline. I expect Dan has a good 
view of my wife's breasts from his height. I can't be sure though as 
I'm only 5'6".

"I was just saying to your husband that I could use a good 
screwdriver."

"I know the feeling, but what can you do?" Michelle laughs at her own 
comment, which quite frankly leaves me somewhat perplexed, and 
motions with her finger for Mr Williams to follow her.

Michelle walks along the hallway and into the kitchen, closely 
followed by Mr Williams, who seems to be rubbing his crotch slightly. 
Probably a touch of groin strain from lifting all those tea chests, I 
deduce. Hey, I should have been a detective!

I close the front door and scurry after them into the kitchen and out 
into the adjoining utility room. My wife bends over at the waist and 
opens a drawer, where a small assortment of tools and bric-a-brac is 
kept.

What she doesn't realise though, is that the outline her two buttocks 
and her vagina lips are clearly on show to Mr Williams directly 
behind her.

"See anything you can use, Dan?" asks my wife, wiggling her behind.

I wonder if she needs the toilet?

Mr Williams clears his throat.

"Well, they're not as big as my tools, but I guess I can make do."

"Just how big is your tool?" Michelle asks, turning her head, still 
bent over at the waist.

I can't really see the relevance of that question, but I guess she's 
just making polite conversation.

"Erm… well, it's a little over eleven inches", replies the new 
neighbour, who looks to be getting fairly hot under the collar.

It does seem to be getting pretty warm; the three of us confined in 
the small space of the utility room.

Mr Williams must have spotted what he was looking for, because he 
bends over Michelle and picks up a screwdriver out of the drawer. 
Michelle accidentally backs into him and lets out a little yelp, and 
they both sort of fall forwards.

Our new neighbour reaches round and grabs Michelle to steady himself. 
I'm sure it's an accident that it's one of her breasts that he's 
holding. Likewise, I'm convinced Michelle didn't put her hand back 
and squeeze Mr William's crotch on purpose. She was just trying to 
steady herself.

"Christ, you weren't joking were you!" exclaims my wife, slowly 
getting up off the floor and then eventually releasing her grip from 
the man's jeans.

"Joke? What's the joke?" I asked, cheerily.

I do like a good laugh, me.

Michelle turns to face me, a blank expression on her face.

"You are Simon."

I don't quite get the punchline, and I'm still thinking about it as 
Michelle and Mr Williams walk past me, giggling, into the lounge.

Following their footsteps I enter the room just in time to see them 
sitting down together on the settee. It's nice to see everyone 
getting on so well, especially as we've all only just met.

"Would you like a drink Dan?" asks my wife, the attentive hostess.

"Sure, something cold would be nice. It's kind of warm all of a 
sudden." He says, looking admiringly at my wife's legs.

I look down and see that Michelle's night-dress has ridden up, 
exposing a large quantity of thigh. I feel that I ought to warn her, 
but I don't want to be the source of embarrassment in front of 
company, so I decide to defer saying anything until a more discreet 
moment arises.

Michelle turns her head to me as I am just about to sit down in an 
armchair across from them.

"Simon?"

I look blankly at my wife and flop down into the chair.

"Drinks", she finally says.

It's obvious who she's expecting to prepare the drinks. We really 
must sit down and have a discussion about sharing the workload around 
the house I decide, as I get to my feet.

"And don't forget the apron." Instructs my darling wife as I leave 
the room.

That's another thing. Whenever I'm serving drinks or doing the 
housework, Michelle always insists that I wear a black and white 
frilly apron, which she's bought me. If I protest, which I did quite 
strongly the first few times I have to say, she tells me that it 
makes sense to protect my clothes from spillage. She points out that 
because I'm rather clumsy at times, (my co-ordination not being that 
great as I mentioned earlier), I'm more likely to ruin my clothes if 
I'm not careful, and hence the apron.

One thing I have to say about my Michelle. She's always got my best 
interests at heart.

And so I retire to the kitchen and put on the frilly apron over my 
dressing gown, which is in its usual place, hanging up behind the 
kitchen door. After pouring three glasses of lemonade and putting 
them on a tray, I return to my wife and our guest.

Curiously, as I walk through the door, I see Mr Williams hand between 
Michelle's legs. When they see me come in, they look up slightly 
startled, and Mr Williams removes his hand.

"Err… Dan dropped his keys down the side of the sofa. He was just 
looking for them", explained my wife.

"Oh right," I said, "Do you want me to help?"

Dan feels the pocket of his jeans.
"Oops, my mistake. They were here all the time."

I had wondered what that large bulge was in Mr William's jeans. Must 
be uncomfortable keeping a large set of keys like that in your jeans 
pocket, I thought.

I walk over to the coffee table and set down the tray, wondering what 
the small amount of sniggering was all about as I sit down and 
flatten down the front of my apron.

"Well, this is nice", I say, smiling and raising my glass.

Mr Williams and Michelle pick up their glasses after a little 
encouragement from me, and we drink a toast to our new neighbour.

"To Mr Williams. I hope we can make you feel very welcome in our 
neighbourhood", I cheer and tip back the glass of lemonade a little 
too quickly, sending bubbles up my nostrils.

Mr Williams looks at Michelle and smiles.

"I'm feeling very much at home already."

With that my wife leans over and kisses Mr Williams on the lips, in 
what I'm sure is just a very friendly gesture. However, I do think 
that when they open their mouths and exchange tongues, that this 
could be construed as being a little over the top.

During the fifteen-second kiss, I take another couple of sips from my 
drink, and consider what I should make for lunch.

Eventually Michelle and Mr Williams untangle their tongues and brake 
apart. I notice that my wife's breathing has become a little heavy, 
and I make a mental note to advise her to take a medical in the near 
future.

Remembering my duties as host, I get up and ask Mr Williams if he'd 
care for a top-up. In my rather over eagerness to take the half empty 
glass he's holding, out of his hand, I manage to spill the remaining 
contents all over his lap. Apologising profusely at my clumsiness I 
duck into the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth.

When I return Mr Williams is standing in the middle of the lounge, 
looking as if he'd just wet himself. I know I shouldn't have, but I 
couldn't help letting out a small, stifled chortle at the poor man's 
situation.

My wife snatched the cloth from my hand and went down on her knees in 
front of our guest. She very attentively begins mopping up the 
spillage on the jeans concentrating around the crotch area.

"These are soaked," she says, squeezing the material with her bare 
hand. "I think you'd better take them off." She looks up at a 
somewhat surprised Mr Williams and gives him a smile.

Mr Williams looks over at me, and I gave a little shrug. I know 
better than to question my wife's judgement about things. Once she 
makes her mind up, that's it.

Michelle begins unbuttoning the gentleman's jeans, which is very 
thoughtful of her, but I do think she can be a little less violent in 
the way she is ripping at his 501's. After completing the task in 
record time, Michelle then begins to ease the material down over Mr 
William's waist.

Pretty soon the jeans are around his ankles and Mr Williams stands in 
a somewhat tight fitting pair of briefs, which show a rather large 
outline of his penis. Unfortunately it seems that the lemonade has 
also penetrated the material of the jeans because I can see a large 
damp circle forming, which I point out to Michelle.

"Mmmm yes, I think these need to come off as well", she says, rubbing 
a finger round and round the damp patch.

I thought it rather inappropriate that my wife is peeling down our 
next door neighbours underpants, and I'm just about to say something 
when I see what is contained in them.

My wife and I both gasp as an enormous penis springs into view, 
slapping my wife in the face.

"Oh my God!" cries Michelle, literally gob-smacked by the over-sized 
appendage.

"Err… quite impressive." I manage to say, thinking about my own, 
rather smaller counter-part.

"Jesus, it's beautiful!" My wife is totally mesmerised by the large 
piece of meat dangling between Mr Williams' legs.

I too, am fairly amazed at the size of the man's penis and so am not 
totally surprised when my wife reaches out her hand and clasped 
around as much of the circumference as she can. What I don't count on 
though was when she says:

"Oh look, there's some lemonade on the tip", then dips her head and 
sticks out her tongue.

Before I can point out to her that it's probably not actually 
lemonade, but in fact far more likely to be a natural lubricant 
originating from the hole of the penis (I'd read a book on that sort 
of thing once), it's too late.

Her eyes cast up towards Mr Williams' face, she runs her tongue over 
the tip of his penis and then, lifting the shaft so it points to the 
ceiling, continues to run her tongue along the underside towards the 
base.

Things are getting rather out of hand I access, and so seek to bring 
proceedings to a halt.

"Erm… my dear, shouldn't we get Mr Williams something to wear. He 
must be getting rather chilly standing like that."

Reluctantly removing her mouth from our guest's penis, Michelle 
mumbles something under her breath.

"Well, that's one hell of a goosebump then."

"Sorry, my dear? I didn't quite hear what you said." 

Michelle turns and grins at me, like she does when I've just given 
her a present.

"I said, well you'd better put his clothes in the washer then." With 
that she throws the pairs of jeans and briefs at me, making a direct 
hit with the underpants which hit me square in the face.

As I wrestle to remove the offending article of clothing from my 
face, I can't help noticing the strong manly odour exuding from the 
crotch. Michelle and Mr Williams laugh heartily as she remarks that 
it looks like I'm wearing a Balaclava. My wife has a terrific sense 
of humour at times, and I have to agree that the situation was 
amusing.

Gathering Mr Williams' clothes in my arms, I announce that I will put 
them on a short wash before transferring them to the dryer. This 
seems to be widely accepted as a good idea, as neither he nor my wife 
makes any adverse comments. Instead Michelle leads Mr Williams out 
into the hall by his penis, and they head towards the stairs.

"We're going upstairs to find Dan something to wear", informs 
Michelle when I enquire where they were going.

Satisfied that my wife can handle things admirably without my 
assistance, I go out into the kitchen to attend to our neighbour's 
washing.

A couple of minutes later I'm sitting back down in the living room, 
wondering what to do next. Then suddenly I hear a noise coming from 
upstairs. It sounds a lot like my wife screaming.

Fearing of an accident I run out of the room and up the stairs, 
stopping on the way to retrieve the First Aid box from a hall 
cupboard.

It's always best to be well prepared for the worst, I think.

When I reach the top of the stairs I call out my wife's name and 
suddenly everything goes quiet. A door slams, the sound coming from 
inside our bedroom, and so I rush in there only to find the room 
empty and the door to the en suite bathroom firmly closed.

"Michelle? Are you all right my dear? I heard screaming."

There's a slight pause, and then I hear my wife's voice from the 
other side of the bathroom door.

"It's OK Simon. I err… just banged my leg."

"Oh, right", I reply, and then a thought occurs to me.
"Where's Mr Williams?"

"Oh, well he's in here. He's aaah… just giving it a rub for me."

It's very nice of Mr Williams to try to assist my wife like that, but 
he doesn't have any medical equipment in there, so I decide it would 
be best if I help.

I open the door and find Michelle sitting on the edge of the bath, 
her legs spread apart, night-dress tucked up around her waist. Mr 
Williams is kneeling in between my wife's legs, apparently massaging 
Michelle's inner thigh.

What is a little disconcerting for me is the fact that Michelle's 
vagina was on full view to our neighbour, and because her legs are 
placed so far apart, her lips are spread wide open. However I don't 
want to draw attention to it and so I keep my mouth shut.

I must confess, seeing my wife's genitals like this is a considerable 
turn-on for me. Michelle doesn't normally show her naughty bits off 
to me because we found that I was liable to ejaculate rather 
prematurely, as was demonstrated on our wedding night. So, in an 
effort to prolong the pleasure for my loved one, I make sure that my 
wife is safely tucked under the covers, out of sight, before I come 
into the bedroom (as it were).

Standing there in our bathroom, I put the medical box down on the 
toilet seat and open it up. Meanwhile Mr Williams continues to rub 
his hands all over my wife's thighs, concentrating on the insides. 
Michelle makes a slight groaning noise now and then. She's obviously 
in some pain.

"Would you like me to take over?" I ask Mr Williams, who I notice is 
still very much naked from the waist down; his large weapon dangles 
between his legs.

"No!" Snaps Michelle, "Pass Dan some ointment that he can rub in."

I rummage in the box, looking for some appropriate medication for my 
loved one's ills, without much luck.

"I'm sorry dear there doesn't seem to…"

"There!" she points to a plastic tube on the windowsill.

I picked up the container and read the label.

"But this is moisturising lotion!" I say quizzically, fearing that my 
wife's pain was making her delirious.

Mr Williams twists round and grabs the tube from me, immediately 
squeezing a large amount into the palm of his hand.
"This'll do fine", he says.

Cupping his hand slightly, Mr Williams smoothes the cool cream on 
Michelle's inner thigh, very close to her you know what. Working his 
hand in a circular motion he moves it higher and higher up my wife's 
leg, until eventually his hand is directly over my wife's pink 
vagina.

Incidently my wife keeps most of her pubic area clean-shaven except 
for a small amount at the top of her mound. She tells me that it's 
more hygienic like that.

When Mr William's fingers start gently rubbing my wife's inner labia, 
I started to get a little concerned. Not feeling that this is quite 
proper, I clear my throat and speak.

"Is that really where you're hurting, my love?"

"Oh yes! Don't stop. That feels so good!"

Mr Williams now appears to have several fingers inserted into my 
wife's vagina and is thrusting them in and out. It occurs to me that 
his two fingers are about double the thickness of my penis, so I'm 
very concerned that he might be hurting my wife.

I take great care when making love to my wife that my penis doesn't 
cause too much friction when moving in and out of her vagina. She 
often remarks to me not to worry, as there's no danger of that 
happening.

However, despite my misgivings about the situation, the treatment 
offered by Mr Williams seems to be doing some good, if the cries from 
my wife are any indication.

"Yes! Oh yesss!" she pleads, and actually takes hold of Mr Williams' 
hand and pulls it harder towards her.

My penis is making a dent in my dressing gown by this time and I fear 
that I might not be able to hold out much longer. I know it isn't 
right to get a sexual kick out of my poor wife's situation, but I 
just can't help it. I try to think of cricket and tax returns but 
it's proving very difficult.

My train of thought iss broken by a rather strange request from Mr 
Williams.

"Quick, Simon. Rub some of that lotion on my dick!"

It takes a few moments for the words to register, and even longer for 
me to react. But before I have a chance to ask "Why?" he picks up the 
tube and squirts a big dollop in my hand.

"Come on Simon, your wife is waiting."

I look perplexed over at Michelle who's leaning back over the bath, 
bracing her hands against the wall behind her. I notice that one of 
the straps of her night-dress has fallen off her shoulder, exposing 
one of her large, firm, breasts.

"Do as he says!" she hisses.

Not wanting to displease my darling wife, I drop to the floor and 
reach between the new neighbour's legs. Taking his hot, giant member 
in one hand, I'm amazed at the monster's girth. Holding it up, I 
smooth my other hand over the head of his penis.

"That's it. Work it all over", instructs Mr Williams, and I 
immediately comply, covering the whole of his big shiny weapon with 
the moisturising cream.

My neighbour, satisfied with my application, nudges me out of the way 
and shuffles towards Michelle. He removes his fingers from her vagina 
and then to my horror, lines his big, fat, penis up with my wife's 
gaping hole.

"Wha- what are you doing?" I ask incredulously.

"What does it look like?" he replies casually.

I look to my wife who pleads to me with her eyes.

"Please Simon, I need this man's cock inside me. You do understand, 
don't you?"

Well I do pride myself on being a caring and understanding husband, 
it's true. However, I wasn't sure that this is altogether right. But 
looking into my gorgeous wife's eyes, I know that her happiness is 
more important to me than anything else and I could tell that this is 
something that she really wants. The fact that her hands are clenched 
around Mr Williams' buttocks, pulling him closer towards her, is a 
fair indication too.

And so I just smile weakly and say nothing.

"Tell you what sport, you can put it in for me," says Mr Williams, 
who I think is feeling a little sorry for me.

Michelle grins and nods her head enthusiastically at me, urging me 
on.

"Go on Simon. Put his big prick in me," she enthuses.

I reach over and take hold of the big staff for the second time. 
Michelle moves her legs forward to accept her prize, and I position 
the huge, bulbous head against my wife's sticky entrance. Slowly I 
ease the well lubricated head inside my wife, her vaginal walls 
stretching to accommodate the big snake, until about three or four 
inches are inside my wife.

"OK Simon, I think I can take it from here", quips Mr Williams, 
taking hold of Michelle's bottom cheeks resting on the side of the 
bath.

With that he pushes his large penis inside my wife of three weeks.

"Oooh yes! Oh my God, you're so fucking huge!" 

Mr Williams pulls his greased-up weapon out slightly, then slams it 
deeper inside Michelle's accommodating vagina. Soon he's building up 
a steady rhythm and giving my wife long, deep strokes.

"Argh yes! Fuck me! Your cock is so beautiful!"

My wife is writhing and making all sorts of funny noises as our 
neighbour continues to pummel his penis in and out of her hole.

"Oooh I'm cuming! I'm cuming! I…"

Michelle's face grows all contorted and at one point I fear that she 
may have done herself some kind of internal injury. This is all too 
much for me though, I'm afraid. My little five-inch penis, tucked 
away beneath my apron and dressing gown, can finally take no more.
Inexplicably I feel my minnow penis erupt without me even touching 
it, and a thin stream of watery semen runs down my leg.

I'm proud to say that Mr Williams wasn't very far behind, and it 
makes me wonder what his personal best is.

"Oh Michelle, I'm gonna cum!" he exclaims, still thrusting in and out 
of my wife.

Michelle pulls our neighbour tightly to her with one hand.

"Don't pull out. I want you to cum inside my cunt! Put a baby in me 
please!"

I'm extremely alarmed at this, but I put it down to over-enthusiasm 
on my wife's part. She seems to be getting carried away with her love 
making, which is funny because she never says anything like that when 
I make love to her.

"Oh, oh, oh! Here it comes!"

Mr Williams makes one final thrust, pushing his gigantic member as 
far into my wife as it will go. Then he freezes as he empties a sac-
load of sperm into my wife. I can tell there's a lot because some of 
it begins seeping out Michelle's vagina and drips onto the bathroom 
tiles.

"Oh my God," my wife eventually says after regaining her composure. 
"I think I'm going to have triplets!"

"Are you feeling any better now dear?" I ask.


*** THE END ***


You can find my stories at:
ftp://ftp.asstr.ml.org/pub/Authors/mrpornwriter